The Keeping(104)

Damn! He’d been hoping to avoid this for a few more hours, though why he didn’t know. It wasn’t going to be pretty, no matter when it happened. Steeling himself for what must be done, he walked to the entrance and leaned against the door frame.

When she was a few feet away, she caught sight of him and stopped. “Ryne.”

“Melody.”

They stared across the open space for a few moments, assessing each other as one might before entering a battle. He wondered what she was thinking. Her eyes were narrowed, her lips compressed. An aura of determination surrounded her. She’d definitely come here expecting to kick his ass, he decided.

“I’m not here to talk about yesterday. That’s over and done with. All I want is to finish this interview and then I’ll leave you alone.” She waved the steno pad at him while delivering her message in clipped tones, with no emotional undertones. He mentally congratulated her on her self control.

Shoving his hands in his back pockets, he shrugged and set out to be as obnoxious as possible. “What interview?”

“The one you agreed to give me about your work.”

“Yeah, well...I’ve changed my mind.” Ryne let his gaze slide away and feigned interest in the truck that was parked across the street. He detected a slight change in her breathing pattern and wondered how she would respond.

“You’ve changed your mind? Just like that? Can I ask why?”

“Ask away. I may or may not answer.” He looked at her blandly.

“But we had an agreement. You said—”

“I said I had complete control and I’m exerting it. I’ve decided I don’t want to be interviewed. I don’t want or need the publicity and you’re not paying me, so...it’s off. Sorry you wasted your time.” He shoved away from the door frame and stood straight. “If you don’t mind, go home. I have work to do.”

“But that’s not fair! I’ve done nothing to warrant you cancelling our agreement. In fact, I’ve been very patient and spent a lot of time waiting for you, humouring you... I’ve never complained about all your teasing and innuendo. It’s only fair that you give me a bit of your time in return.” He could tell she was close to losing control. Her breathing was rapid, the colour rising in her cheeks.

“Life’s never fair, sweetheart. You were...moderately...entertaining, but now you’re bordering on boring. It’s time for you to leave.”

“I’m not leaving until I get my interview!” She stepped into his personal space, poking him in the chest with her finger. He had to give her credit. Very few people were brave—or foolish—enough to do that. It was fortunate that he had a soft spot for her. The last person to poke him in the chest like that had ended up with cast on their hand.

Ryne loomed over her, keeping his eyes narrowed, his expression cold. Even before he spoke, he saw how Melody responded to his aura; there was a faint tremor running over her and she had difficulty maintaining eye contact. Good. She was nervous and unsure of him. He pressed his advantage, delivering his message in icy, clipped tones.

“You’re very lucky that I have such good control over my temper. Most people wouldn’t be walking away from an encounter like this.” Casually, he reached forward and chucked her under the chin, causing her teeth to click together. “Now, run along, little girl, before my benevolence disappears and I take exception to your attitude.” He heard her gulp and gave a minute nod of satisfaction. She was definitely getting the message. Feeling he had done his job, he turned and went back inside, completely ignoring her.

Even with his back turned, he was aware of her continued presence. He bent over to pick up a ratchet and glanced behind him. She stood there gaping at him, no doubt processing what had just happened. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her snap her jaw shut then toss her hair back from her face before striding inside. Oh great, he muttered under his breath, now she’s going to try and show off the fact that she had a backbone. Why couldn’t women be meek and obedient, running the other way when a wolf growled at them?

He kept working, resolved to ignore her, even when she stood directly behind him.

“Where did you grow up?”

Ryne didn’t answer.

“What schools did you go to? Do you have any family? Do you see them often? What do they think of your work?”

Clenching his teeth, he yanked the rear wheel tire off the car he had up on the hoist, and then sent it rolling towards a pile destined for recycling. Turning, he grabbed a new tire, forcing Melody to step back in order to not get hit.

Appearing unfazed, Melody continued her barrage of questions, waiting only a moment after each before asking a new one or rephrasing an older one. Where had he lived previously? What were his favourite colours? Did he have a favourite artist who he admired? Where had he sold his art? What was his first camera? Where had he taken most of his pictures? What was his favourite picture? Did he plan on another exhibit in the future?