The Keeping (27 page)

Rubbing, his
forehead, he tried to ease the headache he could already feel
building. This wasn’t going to be easy. He’d have to come up with
some cock-and-bull story as to why he wouldn’t answer what were
basically simple questions.

Ben Miller
sauntered in, Harley leading the way and wagging his tail,
obviously pleased to have completed his mission. “Hey, Ryne, you
look worried. What’s up?”

“Nothing much,
Ben.” He folded the list and stuffed it in his pocket, then bent to
pat Harley as a reward for following orders.

Ben nodded towards
Ryne’s pocket. “That letter you were reading—it was from the new
girl in town—Mel, I think her name is. Anyway, she was here bright
and early wanting to give it to you so I said I’d make sure you
read it.”

“Thanks, Ben.” He
turned to go.

“So, is she your
new girl?”

Ryne rolled his
eyes, but turned to face his boss. Ben didn’t usually indulge in
idle gossip so maybe there was some point to this conversation.
“Girl? No. Melody isn’t my new girl. She wants to interview me
about some pictures I took a while back.”

Ben nodded.
“That’s what I heard. I also heard someone say you were planning on
leaving with her, on heading back to the States because you’re
really a famous photographer.”

“Famous? Hardly.
If I was, would I be working here?”

“Now don’t be
putting down this fine establishment of mine.” Ben unsuccessfully
tried to look affronted. “But I suppose you’re right. If you were
famous, you wouldn’t have started fixing up the old Nelson place or
be getting your hands dirty, changing oil for me. I just wanted to
check to make sure you weren’t planning on suddenly taking off with
that girl and leaving me in a lurch.”

“Rest assured,
Ben. I have no plans of taking off with Melody. Stump River is
where I’m staying.”

“Good to know. Now
quit standing around here yakking and get to work.” Ben headed back
towards his office and Ryne shook his head. Nothing ever happened
in Stump River, so Melody’s presence was a big event and lent
itself to the production of rumours. He just hoped the attention
died down when Melody left. The last thing a werewolf pack wanted
was attention.

By the time noon
rolled around, Ryne had a few ideas of how to avoid certain
questions that Melody had on her list. He just hoped he’d be able
to pull it off and that she’d accept what he said at face value and
not press too hard for more details. Mentally, he rehearsed his
plan. Keep things light and simple. Don’t be too friendly. Give her
some basic information and send her on her way as quickly as
possible. And, no more sex!

He still couldn’t
quite believe how he was acting towards her. First there’d been the
incident at her cabin, when he had snuck in during the night and
then yesterday morning... His judgement seemed to be slipping where
she was concerned, his wolf side pushing to the foreground. That
usually didn’t happen. Sure, the beast wanted out, but he’d always
kept it in check, until now. So, why was he suddenly having all
these conflicting feelings? What was it about Melody that drew him
to her? Her warm brown eyes? Her lush breasts? Her quirky
personality? Whatever it was, he needed to keep it under control.
The woman could very well turn out to be public enemy number one as
far as his people were concerned. Involvement with her was nothing
but bad news.

As if on cue,
Melody wandered into the service bay. She was wearing a denim
jacket, tight jeans, and a loose red top that was gathered at the
base of her throat by a tie and then flowed over her full breasts
to her waist where it swirled gently every time she moved. Ryne
wondered if he undid the bow at the neck, would the top fall from
her shoulders and puddle at her feet leaving her bare. He felt a
grin spread over his face at the idea and clenched his fists to
resist the temptation to see if his theory was right.

Obviously unaware
of his thoughts, Melody absent-mindedly played with the string that
held her top in place, drawing his attention to the rise and fall
of her breasts. “Hi! Did you get the list of questions I left?
They’re pretty simple, so I was wondering if you were ready to
start on them today.”

It took Ryne a
moment to realize she was waiting for an answer and forced his gaze
away from the interesting activity of her fingers. “Today?” He
pondered the question. There was no reason to delay any longer.
He’d done that all last week just for the perverse joy of annoying
her. But now the time for games was over. The sooner she was gone,
the better. “All right. Today is fine. I’m almost done work for the
day; I just have to put my tools away.”

“Great!”

“You can wait over
there.” Ryne pointed towards a group of chairs by a set of vending
machines selling pop, chips, and various chocolate bars. He watched
as Melody made herself comfortable—well, at least as comfortable as
the old plastic chairs would allow—and then concentrated on
cleaning his tools.

Grabbing a rag, he
wiped down the wrenches, removing dirt and excess grease, before
arranging them in the proper drawers of the tool cabinet. A sound
behind him drew his attention and he saw Melody was buying a
chocolate bar. The look of happiness on her face as she peeled back
the wrapper made him smile. From what he’d seen of her so far, she
was seldom without coffee in her hand. Apparently, when the coffee
was unavailable, she moved on to chocolate. She was a funny little
thing.

Concentrating on
finishing his job, he locked the tool box and put the keys away.
Moving to the sink, he turned on the water, poured some hand
cleaner on his palms and began to work the industrial strength soap
into his hands. Soon the layers of grease and grime were washed
away and he dried off.

Melody had just
finished her treat when he walked over to her.

“Ready?”

She nodded in
agreement. “Do you want to talk at the diner or...?”

He hesitated for a
minute. At the diner, everyone would be eavesdropping and the
chance of his neighbours interrupting with questions of their own
was highly likely; it was something he wanted to avoid. “No.
There’s a nice little place near the cenotaph with a couple of
benches. We could sit there.”

Giving a quick
nod, Melody stood and picked up her purse. He ushered her out,
calling a goodbye to Ben who was still working in the office. The
older man grunted in acknowledgement and Harley gave a woof before
settling down to finish one of his many naps.

They walked in
companionable silence down Main Street. A few people called a
greeting or waved from their vehicle as they drove past. Ryne
nodded in response thinking that within half an hour everyone would
be talking about him and the ‘new girl’ in town. Oh well, she’d be
gone soon enough and he’d no longer be at the centre of the rumour
mill.

Sitting down on
the bench, Melody pulled out her steno pad and a pen. Ryne braced
himself, hoping his answers would be sufficiently convincing to
keep her from probing too deeply.

“Ryne, we’re going
to start with some simple background information, like date of
birth, where you grew up, what your childhood was like—that sort of
thing. It will give readers a more rounded picture of you; make you
more real to them.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Oh.” Melody
blinked at him. “Um...why?”

Ryne assumed his
most arrogant expression. “Because, I did not truly
exist
before photography.”

“I beg your
pardon?”

“You heard me.” He
shifted uncomfortably, feeling like an ass. It was such a dumb
answer but he really hadn’t been able to think of anything
else.

“Yes, I did,
but...what does that mean?”

“That my life
before I started taking pictures was of no importance; just a vast
wasteland of ill-spent years trying to find my real passion, my
real reason for existence.”

“Are you pulling
my leg?” Mel set her pad and pencil down in her lap and gave him a
weird look that seemed to be half laughing disbelief and half fear
that he really wasn’t joking.

“No. I am not.
Next question.” He stared at her, allowing his wolf to show in his
eyes, demanding she accept his word as law. There was a flicker of
something in her eyes, an acknowledgement, or recognition of his
position and then she dropped her gaze, even going so far as to
slightly tilt her head as if offering her throat. Curious
behaviour, Ryne thought. Most humans just looked away or cowered.
Hmm. Brushing the little idiosyncrasy aside, he relaxed the force
of his will.

Melody gave a
sigh—it sounded like she was relieved to be released—and then
cleared her throat. “All right. So no background information.
Um...do you have any formal training in photography?”

“No. One day I was
out running in the woods and when I stopped to rest, I just really
started to look closely at my surroundings. The intricacies of
nature’s designs, the variety of hues; they all captured my
imagination. The next day I brought a camera with me and starting
taking pictures.”

“Really?” Melody
sat up straight, excitement washing over her face. “The same thing
happened to me yesterday afternoon. I was out walking around the
cabin, and trying to see the forest the way you might and it just
hit me. I really wished I had a camera so I could try some
different shots.”

The enthusiasm in
her voice caught Ryne’s attention. He noted how her eyes were
sparkling and her cheeks glowed. Before he realized it, he heard
himself not only offering to lend her one of his digital cameras,
but to take her on a hike and show her some photography
techniques.

“Oh, that would be
just awesome. When?”

“How about
today?”

“Sure, though...”
She paused and looked down at her feet.

Ryne stifled his
laughter. Her boots were the same four inch heels that she’d worn
sneaking onto his property that first day. “Definitely not the
proper footwear. Tell you what. I’ll go home and get a couple of
cameras and meet you at your cabin in an hour. That way you can
change into some hiking clothes.” He flicked the tie on her top and
watched how the bow relaxed slightly revealing just an inch more
skin. A low growl rumbled in his throat as he recalled running his
lips over the smooth slope of her shoulders.

“How do you do
that?”

Melody’s question
had him giving a start. He’d been so intent on her skin that—
“Sorry. How do I do what?”

“That rumbly thing
with your throat. I’ve never heard a man do that before.”

Ryne felt himself
flushing slightly and tried to casually pass it off. “Oh, it’s just
one of those weird habits people have. Some guys give a wolf
whistle when they see a pretty girl. I...er...growl.”

“Oh.” She paused
and seemed to be thinking over his answer, then brightened. “Then
you think I’m pretty?”

He smiled, noting
how nicely she blushed. It wasn’t an all over red, just a stain of
pink along her cheek bones. “Yeah. I do.” Leaning forward he gave
her a gentle kiss then stood abruptly. “I’ll just go get those
cameras.”

“Sure. I’ll see
you in a while.”

As he strode away,
he glanced back. Melody was still sitting there with her fingers
pressed to her lips. Damn! He’d done it again. What was wrong with
him?

*****

Back at the cabin,
Mel had pulled on a heavy sweater over her red cotton top, ditched
the fashionable boots, and put on sneakers, complete with a pair of
extra thick socks. She hesitated over a winter coat, but decided if
she was walking, the denim coat would keep her sufficiently
warm.

Sitting on the
steps, she waited for Ryne to arrive, excited to try some nature
photography and to see him again. She hadn’t been sure how their
meeting would go, but she had forced herself to not think about
their sexual encounter and to just treat him as a casual
acquaintance. Despite what Lucy had said, Mel wasn’t so sure that
Ryne saw her as anything more than a warm body to have sex with. A
secret part of her hoped there was more, but logically she knew she
shouldn’t hold her breath. Her main focus—as Aldrich had pointed
out to her during her daily report—had to remain on getting this
article done. Mr. Greyson was hoping for more than ‘I’m still
waiting.’

At least now she
could tell the lawyer that she’d started. Mind you, Ryne’s answers
had been less than satisfactory. That whole ‘I didn’t exist before
photography’ bit was just too corny, like something out of a badly
written script. Yet, even though she knew it was ridiculous,
something in the way he looked at her, the tone of his voice, the
angle of his head—it had compelled her to obey, to not question...
It was just weird. Even now, she couldn’t imagine asking him again.
Well, it had been an ‘airy fairy artsy’ type of answer, but she
supposed it might be acceptable to those who truly lived and
breathed art. Hopefully, she’d be able to get enough information
with her other questions that no one would notice a certain lack of
background detail.

Ryne’s truck
pulled up to the cabin and Mel got to her feet, walking over to
greet him. He gave her apparel a once over and then nodded in
approval.

“Much better.
Here’s a camera you can use. It’s an older model that I have just
as a backup, but it still takes a decent picture.”

Mel looked at the
small digital camera. Ryne might think it was out of date, but to
her it appeared relatively new. He showed her how to use the zoom,
flash and shutter speed adjustments. “Of course it’s only four
megapixels, but that’s sufficient for a starter like yourself.”

“Megapixels?”

“Yeah—it’s sort of
like how precise or clear your picture will be. Usually, the more
pixels, the sharper the image. The term comes from combining the
words ‘picture element.’ You know how pointillist artists, like
Seurat or Van Gogh use a bunch of little splotches of paint to
create a whole picture? Well, millions of pixels combine to create
an image.”