Page 59 of Ronen
Chapter Eighteen
Ronen
“You look nice,” Mason told me, opening my car door and waiting until I was buckled in before shutting it. He had pulled into my drive in a sparkling red F150 truck I had never seen before.
“Thank you, so do you,” I said, when he was settled in the driver’s seat. He was wearing a cobalt blue sweater, dark jeans, and his cowboy boots, which looked like he had cleaned and shined them. Sadly, he’d gone hatless tonight, his thick auburn hair gelled and styled.
It had taken about another two weeks before either of us had a night free at the same time. Mason was already scheduled to work some night shifts, and after being off for a week on medical, didn’t feel right about asking someone to switch with him. He could have pulled the boss card, but I had to give him credit for notdoing that.
I was in the same predicament, having scheduled some nights for myself, plus I had inventory and a deep cleaning of the library to do.
This was our first official date, though there had been a ton of texting and flirting that had happened leading up to tonight.
Mason was funny, and sweet, and I found myself truly liking the man, and even looking forward to our date. Though that had more to do with just being able to spend more time with Mason. I hadn’t been joking when I said I wasn’t good on dates.
I liked the chase, the exhilaration that led to being caught. Once an alpha had piqued my interest enough that I let them catch me, the trouble would begin.
Because I got bored very easily, and when the excitement of the chase was over, I pretty much was too. Moving on to something else that caught my interest.
Maybe if we just skipped the dating part, that wouldn’t happen.
“I’ve never seen this truck before.” I commented.
He pulled onto the highway. “No? I’ve had her for about six months now. The Bronco is technically a work vehicle, and I needed something that was good for hauling hay and feed.”
“Is she named after a dessert too?” I asked, running my hand over the supple leather seat.
Mason grinned at me, and my heart started that annoying pitter patter thing it did whenever he smiled at me.
“Cherry pie,” he told me, amusement in his voice.
“Because she’s red?”
“Well, yeah,” He turned left at Main Street and I wondered where we were going for dinner. “Look when I get a theme going, I stick with it, just so you know.”
“Noted,” I said seriously, but a small smile tugged at my lips.
“So, you live next to your parents?” he asked, conversationally.
Nodding, I told him, “Technically, yes, but as you saw, I’m far enough away I have my own space and freedom.”
I had built my house about two miles from my parents’ large A-Frame cabin, carving out a place in the woods on our land. The drive split off to the left once you reached my parents’ place, and that’s where my house was. The two houses were concealed from one another with tons of trees. It was my own little piece of peace, but still close to my family.
Most of the Sinclairs lived on our land, which encompassed about a hundred acres, with my grandmother’s mansion basically in the middle, and my uncles scattered close by. They too had put enough distance between each other and my grandmother that they were close, but not that close. Rory and Becca had built a house not far from Rory’s parents, and my cousin Logan was planning to start on his house this summer.
We drove a few more minutes in silence, but it wasn’t awkward, surprisingly. It was nice, actually. Neither of us felt a need to fill the silence. The radio was on low, but I couldn’t tell what song was playing unless I used my shifter hearing.
“I made reservations at Mamma Mia’s,” he told me, breaking the silence. Glancing over at me, he said, “I guess I should have asked if you like Italian food.”
“I love it, and I enjoy the food at Mamma Mia’s. It’s quite good.” My hand rested on the seat between us, and when Mason placed his hand next to mine, palm up, it seemed only natural that I placed my hand in his. He didn’t say anything, but his eyes were warm, his smilesoft.
“Good. Phew, that would have been awkward.”
“Don’t worry,” I teased, “I was raised with enough manners that I wouldn’t have complained. At least, not on the first date.”
“Does that mean there will be a second date?” Mason inquired, navigating us easily through traffic with one hand. “Since you’ve stated more than once how you feel about the term dating. Or dates, in general.”
Tilting my head, I pretended to put some thought into it. “We’ll see how tonight goes. I’m open to you changing my mind about it. I don’t even know what you have planned.”
