Page 63 of Ronen
“You sound so shocked,” I teased, and a pink hue flushed his cheeks, before he looked away.
There was something there; I had definitely touched a nerve of some kind, but it appeared it had taken Ronen unaware. I’d give him a few minutes to sort himself out before I poked that particular bear.
“Do you have any siblings, and are you the oldest, middle, or youngest child?”
I already knew the answer, at least I knew he had an older brother, but I really didn’t know if he had any other siblings.
There were a shit ton of Sinclairs in Sweet Alps, and even after living here for over a year, I still couldn’t put all the faces with names. Or who exactly belonged to who.
Ronen was always hanging out with Charlotte–Charlie–Sinclair, a local tattoo artist, and I knew they were cousins. But I wasn’t sure exactly how he was related to some of the other Sinclairs. Cousins, uncles, siblings?
“One older brother, Matthew, Matty. Which makes me the youngest.”
Putting the card face down on the table, I took a swig of my beer. “I’m gonna be honest, I’m still not always clear which Sinclair belongs to whom, or how you’re all related. Like siblings, cousins, uncles?”
“There’s a bunch of us,” he agreed. “My alpha dad is the youngest of a set of identical quads. They are all mated and spawned demon seeds. Some more than others. So uncles, cousins, and my grandmothers live here. Do you have any siblings, Mason?” he asked dutifully, at least playing the game, even if he wasn’t all that happy about it.
“I do,” I told him, keeping my tone light and making sure he knew I was enjoying myself with this game. “I too have an older brother, Connor. He’s three years older than me. I’m also the youngest. That’s two things we have in common.” I felt the need to point that out.
“Insignificant things,” he muttered, grabbing one of his cards at random, and quickly reading it. “What’s the most spontaneous thing you’ve ever done?”
“Hmmm,” I tilted my head, thinking hard. “I guess probably joining the police academy. No, that wasn’t really spontaneous, because I knew I wanted to be a cop from a pretty young age. It was more I sprang it on my parents after I hadbeen accepted to the academy after college. They weren’t exactly pleased with me. Let’s see most spontaneous?” Nibbling my lip, I put some more thought into it.
Honestly, I wasn’t that spontaneous of a person. I liked knowing what I was doing well in advance. I liked routine, too. I didn’t really suffer from wanderlust, happiest at home in my space. “Probably accepting the job in Sweet Alps and leaving Colorado.”
Ronen peered at me over his wine glass. “Why did you apply for the job?”
“I didn’t,” I told him, “Grayson Beckett called and offered me the deputy spot, with the caveat of me taking his position when he retired later in the year. Obviously, he told me it would depend on how well I meshed with the team already established, and I guess him, and the town. And he explained that even though the town council had agreed to let him hire his replacement for the duration of his contract, I would have to campaign for the position when that time was up. If I chose to.”
Ronen seemed thoughtful for a minute, and I could almost see the wheels in his head whirling. “Huh, Uncle Becks must have come across your resume somewhere. He’s got contacts all over, so that’s not surprising.”
Uncle Becks?
“Wait, Becks is your uncle?” I was trying to work that out in my head, when Ronen shook his head.
“Not biological,” he told me, “but he and my dad go way back. Like way, way back, from before I was born. They worked together for years, and when dad retired and came home to Sweet Alps, Uncle Becks showed up one day. And just sorta never left. I have a handful of biological uncles, and a handful of found family uncles. Holidays are loud and ridiculous.” Therewas a fondness in his eyes though, and he tacked on, “But also fun.”
“It’s always just been my dads, me, and my brother,” I admitted, wondering what a family holiday like he had just described would be like. “We usually end up with a handful of ranch hands that don’t have family, but both my parents’ immediate families are gone.”
“I complain about my family,” he said softly, a small smile tugging at his lips, “but I wouldn’t trade them for the world. They are kind of the best. But don’t you dare tell any of them I said that. I will deny it.”
“Ranch?” He asked, perking up at the word. “So the boots and hat aren’t just a fashion trend?”
I snorted, running a hand over the back of my neck. “My family owns a little ranch just outside of Denver. We breed horses. Dad is one of the best horse trainers around too. Connor is about as horse crazy as Dad, so he’s at least fulfilling some of my parents' dreams.”
“You really are a cowboy,” Ronen sighed happily. “How many acres?”
“About six thousand, give or take.”
Ronen’s eyes were huge as he stared at me. “Six thousand? You made it seem like it was a tiny place, with a few horses. Fate really must know what she’s doing.”
“How about you, Ronen? What’s the most spontaneous thing you’ve ever done?” I steered us away from talk about my family.
He thought about it for a minute. “A couple of years ago, I took off for a weekend to heli-ski the Chugach Mountains in Alaska. That was pretty spontaneous. I’d never done it before, but it looked like fun. And it was.”
Brows knitted, I asked, “What exactly is heli-skiing?”
I was totally going to skip over the fact that he had just randomly flown to Alaska to do something I had never heard of, on a weekend whim. Just the thought of that gave me a twinge of anxiety, without throwing in the rest. I was a Colorado boy who hated skiing and paid no attention to any of anything that related to it. This sounded like it might involve skiing from a helicopter? Hell to the no. No thank you.
