Page 6 of Ronen (Sweet Alps Legacy #1)

Chapter Five

Ronen

Matty had spent the last year bouncing around Europe, doing research on fated mates for a book he was writing.

He’d only been stateside since just before Christmas, but I was glad he was home.

He might be older than me by almost ten years, but he was one of my favorite people, and I’d missed him while he’d been gone.

Giving a cursory knock, I opened the door, peeking cautiously around the door. Since we were meeting here before heading over to my grandmother’s house for a family dinner, I felt it was safe enough to enter.

My brother and I had learned quickly after we had moved out, to always knock and wait if our parents weren’t expecting us.

One time of walking in on them having sex on the dining room table was enough to scar me for life.

I still didn’t like eating at that table.

I didn’t care how many times my Papa claimed he had cleaned it.

I smelled him a second before a heavily muscled arm wrapped around my neck from behind, and a large body tried its best to take me down to the floor.

Honestly, would my brother never learn?

He might have over six inches on me in height, and close to seventy pounds in weight–mostly muscle–but in a few quick moves our parents had taught us, I freed myself and Matty was staring up at our parents’ living room ceiling, blinking his light blue eyes at me.

For good measure, I rested my foot on his chest and stared down my nose at him.

“It never gets old,” I commented dryly.

From the corner of my eye, I caught sight of our alpha dad, Jamie, moving silently down the stairs. The way the man still managed to move without making a sound, at his age, was a mystery none of us had yet to figure out.

“What doesn’t?” Matty grinned up at me, his eyes dancing with merriment, his voice carrying a distinct English accent like our papa’s did. He had lost it somewhat growing up in Sweet Alps, but all it took was him spending any amount of time across the pond and it instantly came back.

“Putting you on your arse, son,” our omega papa, Bash, told him. He was carrying a mug, steam wafting off the contents, which I knew was tea. Papa was a Brit clear to his bones and refused to ever entertain the idea of coffee passing his lips.

Dad pecked Papa’s lips, grinning wolfishly. “Reminds me of when you laid me on my ass in Mom’s kitchen. ”

Papa settled his thin frame at the dining room table, taking a sip of his tea. “Such fond memories.”

Removing my foot from Matty, he jumped to his feet with a speed and flexibility that most men his size couldn’t achieve.

Like Dad, Matty was a wolf shifter, and built just like him.

Standing six-foot-five, he was tall and broad, with the same black hair and cool blue eyes that came from the Sinclair side of our family.

In truth, my brother was the spitting image of our dad and had been since the day he was born.

Hell, Matty looked more like our dad’s twin than dad’s three brothers did now, and they were a set of identical quadruplets.

There were times, looking at photos of them, that I could only identify my brother from our dad by the clothing they were wearing, or the hairstyle.

That and Matty had a more easy going air about him than Dad did.

Even when Dad was relaxed and smiling, there was always a cloud of danger that hung over him.

“Boys, come sit and tell us about your day before we need to leave for your grandmothers’. There won’t be another opportunity, because I think all the cousins will be there and it will just be controlled chaos,” Papa ordered softly.

Sliding into an empty seat across from Papa, I sighed loudly. “Just the usual. Sheriff Caldwell destroying books again. The man is beyond infuriating. Just looking at his face annoys me.”

“I thought he just liked to lose them,” Matty took the seat next to me, while Dad sat next to Papa, putting his arm around his thin shoulders.

Papa snuggled closer, resting his head on Dad’s shoulder.

Even after twenty-five years of marriage, they still acted like teenagers.

“He’s moved on to destruction of property? Upping his game, I see.”

“This one took an unexpected bath,” I quipped, “after he tried to argue that he wasn’t missing turning in any. As if I can’t clearly see there is an outstanding book.” Giving my brother some serious side-eye, I demanded, “What do you mean upping his game?”

“You know he probably does it on purpose, don’t you?” Matty sounded extra smug, like he knew some secret about Mason Caldwell that had escaped my notice.

“To what purpose?” What on earth was my brother going on about?

Matty might be a certified genius–the ‘we know your son is in third grade but how about we move him to high school’ kind of genius–but sometimes his logic truly baffled me. Book smarts did not equal common sense some days, and my brother was a prime example of that. At least in my opinion.

“Ro,” it was Matty’s turn to sigh dramatically, “the man probably thinks you’re hot, and is just using lost books as an excuse to talk to you.”

“That’s…” my brain was so boggled by this notion, it lost all power of speech for a few seconds. “No, surely not.” Shaking my head, I tacked on another, “No,” for good measure.

Dad reached over and took a sip from Papa’s mug, then made a face, remembering that he still did not like tea after all these years.

“You’re not exactly the most approachable person sometimes, Ronen. And I mean that in the best way, because I love you. But sometimes…” Dad’s voice trailed off.

“A bit cold,” Matty supplied, not at all helpfully.

“Reserved,” Papa added his two cents in, then tried to save it. “Very British on occasion. Nothing at all wrong with that. ”

“Bit uptight,” Dad said, holding his finger and thumb about an inch apart from one another.

“Fussy,” Matty agreed, a bit too cheerfully. “I mean, if someone did like you, in an ‘I would like to ask that man on a date’ type of way, but you won’t give them the time of day, I’m just saying it’s a good way to get your attention.”

What utter nonsense was my brother babbling on about?

Folding my arms across my chest, I glared at them all defiantly.

“Losing or destroying books to get my attention is the worst way to get my attention, ever. I can’t even fathom this kind of behavior.

I can assure you that Sheriff Caldwell is not interested in me in that way.

Or in any way other than checking out his books.

Though the man has developed some weird fascination with learning my middle name, which I cannot understand why.

” Pointing a finger at my family, I ordered, “And no one is to tell him what it is.”

Matty made a gesture like he was locking his lips.

“Why don’t you just tell him what it is?” Papa questioned. “It’s not like it’s something horrible. Seems like the quickest way to get him to move on and stop pestering you, if he bothers you as much as you claim.”

“What does that mean?” Huffing, I glared at my papa, who just gave a smile but offered nothing else in way of an explanation.

“It’s a great name,” Matty declared.

He would think so, since he had been the one to pick it. Actually, he had wanted it to be my first name, but my parents had compromised and used it as my middle name.

“It’s not about the name,” I drummed my fingers against the tabletop, wondering if we could all just head over to dinner yet. Surely, it had to be time. It wasn’t like anyone would care if we showed up early.

Matty and Dad shot each other matching, knowing looks.

“Ahhhh, it’s about the game,” Matty declared, a knowing look in his eyes. “You always did like the thrill of the chase, Ro.”

“Always has been,” Dad said matter-of-factly. “Those two have been playing this ‘I hate you’ game for over a year now.”

“Just fuck it out, get it out of your system, and move along with your lives,” Papa offered. “All your problems solved, and you’ll have gotten a good shagging out of it.”

Goddess, my family gave the worst advice. Ever.

It seems like solid advice to me , my badger chimed in. Fuck that man out of our system.

“No, thank you,” I said, indeed sounding every bit as fussy as my brother had said I was. “That won’t be happening. May we please not talk about me…having relations with anyone. Ever again, but especially with Mason Caldwell. Matty, how is teaching going?”

A change of subject was needed, and I needed to get the focus off of me.

And Sheriff Caldwell. Annoyingly hot Sheriff Caldwell.

Dad snorted, “Having relations? Who the fuck even says that?”

Matty rolled his eyes, “Told you. Fussy. Wound tight. No one would ever guess what you’re hiding under that tightly buttoned up shirt of yours, Ro, or what an absolute adrenaline junkie you are by the way you talk. And teaching is good. Interesting. I’m having fun with it.”

Matty had taken an adjunct professor position at our local college, teaching a class on fated mates.

Our cousin Rory’s mate, Becca, was the assistant dean, and had begged him to teach for the spring semester when he had come back to the states.

Since Matty hadn’t been able to say no to Rory since the first time they had met–which in turn meant he couldn’t say no to Becca–he had agreed to it.

“Becca has asked me to consider staying on for next year,” Matty told us. “We honestly weren’t sure how much interest there would be in this class, especially since it’s a filler elective, but apparently there were so many signups, they ended up with a waitlist.”

“Are you going to do it?” I asked. It would be really nice to have him home for a while, not that I was going to tell him that.

He nodded, “I think so, yeah. I know we’re only a few weeks into the semester, but I’m really enjoying teaching. Plus, it gives me time to work on my book.”

“So, you’re going to stay in Sweet Alps for a while then?” Dad asked, trying hard to not show his excitement at the prospect.