Page 78 of Ronen
Mason pressed his lips together, trying to keep his smile contained. “It’s short for honey badger. You know because you’re a honey badger.”
“That will not become a thing.” Rolling my eyes at him, I tugged at my own pale green shirt. “I’m impressed you said that with a straight face though.”
It was Easter Sunday, and we were dressed in pastels because my grandmother insisted on it. Just like she had insisted I bring Mason in a very demanding text message.
G’ma Mary:RoRo, I expect you to bring that lovely sheriff of yours to Easter dinner.
Me:Who is this and how did you get my number?
G’ma Mary:Very funny. Is your sheriff allergic to anything? What’s his favorite dessert?
Me:First of all, he is not MY sheriff. I’m fairly certain he is employed by the town of Sweet Alps and belongs to all the residents.
G’ma Mary:Well, my intel says he is yours.
Me:Your intel? Okay, Double O Grandma, stop talking to my dad. He’s sucha gossip!
G’ma Mary:Of course he is, but he gives me all the best tea, and he is never wrong. Favorite dessert? I’m waiting.
Me:How would I possibly know that? And what if he has to work that day? Sweet Alps is a hotbed of anarchy you know.
G’ma Mary:If I wanted sass and attitude, I would have texted Quinn or Wade.
Me:Feel free to text them. I need to get back to work. Busy, busy. Lots of books to deal with.
G’ma Mary:Ronen Sawyer Sinclair, do not annoy me. I’m making the menu and grocery list and I need to know these things.
Me:What menu? We’ve had the same menu for Easter dinner for as long as I’ve been alive. Thought if you wanted to know something you just asked dad? What does he think?
G’ma Mary:Still waiting.
Me:*sigh* All his livestock are named for desserts so I would imagine he hasn’t met one yet he doesn’t like.
G’ma Mary:I’ll just call the sheriff’s office and ask him myself.
Me:Youwill not!
G’ma Mary:It’s like it’s your first day in this family. See you Sunday. With your sheriff. Love you!
My fingers scrolled my contacts then typed furiously.
Me:Dad, control your mother!
Dad:*laughing emoji* Sorry, that woman terrifies me. Best to just do whatever she wants.
Which was how we came to be standing in my grandma’s foyer, the sounds of voices and laughter drifting to us from the kitchen and dining room. The house smelling of baked ham, mashed potatoes, and a plethora of other delicious things.
“Can you see my belly?” I asked Mason quietly, fighting the urge to yank my shirt from my pants and leave it untucked.
Everything felt tight today, and the button on my slacks had been a struggle. My belt hid the straining button, but it was digging into the tender skin of my belly.
Mason shook his head. “You look the same as always. I mean, I can tell you’ve put on a couple of pounds, but I’m looking for it. I don’t think anyone else will notice.”
And he was looking. Mason loved looking at me naked, running his hands over my belly, seeing the tiniest little change in my body.
Giving him a shrewd look, I warned, “You don’t know my grandmother. Legend has it she always knows when the omegas in the family are pregnant. She told my Uncle Lachlan and Quinn they were pregnant before they even knew it. She knew Becca was pregnant as soon as she and Rory walked in for family dinner before they announced it. I’m telling you, she’s going to know.”
Mason placed his hands on my shoulders, rubbing gently. “Would it be so bad if we told them now?”
