My Name is Rapunzel(54)

The sound of Pepper's car brought my attention back to the gravel lane. She honked when she got closer and waved out the side window. “Hey, chic. I haven't seen you in a few days. I was worried about you,” Pepper said.

She was worried about me? Nobody had worried about me in a long time.

“Oh, I'm sorry. I've been a little preoccupied lately. I’ve taken up a writing project and it has kind of consumed me. That's all.”

“Well, that's good, because I have a special delivery for you.” Pepper's eyes twinkled.

The gravel crunched as another vehicle approached.

“Here he comes now. And let me tell you something, he's a hottie.” Pepper giggled like a schoolgirl.

“Special delivery?” I tried to peer into the car window, but the glare from the sun blurred my view. “What's going on? Who is that?” I pointed to the car as it pulled to the roadside just behind Pepper.

“I don’t know. I just saw him driving up behind me. Looks good, though. I want to know all the details.” She grinned as she handed me a small bundle of magazines. “I've gotta go, chic. Have fun, and remember, I want to know everything,” Pepper waved out the window as she left.

My stomach was doing flips inside my belly. Nobody came to visit me! I didn't know anyone. I wanted to run, but it was too late. Nothing good could come of this. The vehicle pulled to the side and the driver stepped out.

“Hello.” The man stepped toward me and reached out a hand. “My name is John Jenkins. I work for the local newspaper. I'm looking for a lady named Rapunzel,” John chuckled, the lines around his bright blue eyes crinkling.He winked.

Ignoring his hand, I squared my shoulders, stuck my chin out and glared up at him. Eyes say a lot about a person and he was looking directly into mine. Oh, he was good. John portrayed himself as a confident adult and couldn't be more than twenty-five years old. He had a lot to learn about winning people over. First, never make fun of a person's name, especially a woman's name. John definitely started off on the wrong foot and wasn't going to get any points for gentlemanly behavior from me.

“I know who you are,” I said, refusing to shake his hand. Why was this man here? I warned him not to come after he made fun of my story. How could this be happening? The last person I wanted to talk to was him! He needed to leave. Now. “I didn't invite you to my home. Actually, I warned you not to come. Please, leave.”

Pepper said he was a hottie, and I had to agree he was very pleasing to look at. Not at all the old codger I’d assumed he was after reading his letters. But those letters told a lot about his attitude. That was all I needed to know about Mr. John Jenkins.

I held the magazines close to my chest and turned on my heels to leave. How dare he show up unannounced? How rude. I'd had enough rudeness for one day—first the spy on the hillside and now this reporter.

I thought reporters were supposed to be smart? I begged to differ. I’d warned him and he ignored my warning. If the dragon scorched him or the witch cursed him, it wasn’t my fault.

“Look, miss?” He eyed my hair. “Rapunzel, if that's your real name, I didn't drive all the way out here to be turned away. I just wanted to talk to you. Give me ten minutes of your time, please. I'd like to interview you for my next story.”

I should make him beg.

I stopped then looked over my shoulder. “You made fun of me.” Tears rose to the surface. The memories flooded my mind like a wave of water refusing to yield. I forced the tears back, willing them not to fall. I would not cry today. I would not! How could this man, this stranger, bring me to tears? No chance I’d give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry. “Please leave.” I had the upper hand here, not John Jenkins.

“Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make fun of you. That wasn't my intention. It's just my nature, how I am. I want to know the rest of the story,” John said. “I want to know about the dragon and how it all ended. I need to know.”

That stopped me in my tracks.

“Why? Why do you need to know?” I turned around to face him. Why did this man feel the need to drive all the way out here, in the middle of nowhere, just to hear the rest of my story?

“I can't explain it.” John shrugged as he dug his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “I just need to know is all.” His eyes looked sincere. But would I know if he was insincere? I'd been tricked before, and look where that got me. I refused to be made a fool of again.

I looked toward the hillside, where the stranger had stood earlier. Of course, he was gone.

“Fine. I’ll talk to you, as long as you promise to take my story seriously.”