‘Not really.But thanks for cooking.You go ahead.’He didn’t even look at her, drinking mouthful after mouthful of his beer, as if settling in for a session.
She sat on the spare deckchair beside him.‘What’s wrong?I can see something is bothering you.’
‘You’ve just met me.How would you know?’
‘You’ve been weird with me ever since we left Chook’s place.’
‘You were almost killed today.You were put at risk—when you should have been safe.’His brow ruffled.It wasn’t promising, but at least it was better than the stony-faced expression from earlier.
‘But I’m okay now.’Especially after having the courage to walk past the boys.
‘You weren’t then.’
‘I know.’She’d never known true terror until that moment.‘But you were there.You saved me.’
‘Not my job.’Stone’s voice was so controlled, yet so surly, as his upper lip curled with fury.
‘I never said it was.’She sat back.‘I think I should stay elsewhere.’
‘Good idea.The pub has rooms, and it’s just across from the train station that can take you back to the city.Or you can catch the mail plane to Darwin.I’ll drop you off in town in the morning.’He approached the bar and dropped his empty beer bottle in the bin with a clink.
‘What happened?’
Ignoring her, he turned his back on her to dig around in the fridge for another beer.
‘Where is the happy-go-lucky, cheeky and charming chopper pilot?Where did this surly, whatever mood you’re in, come from?’
‘I can have moods.It is my house, Romy.’He tossed the bottle cap into the bin, and took a deep mouthful from his fresh beer, still with his back to her.
‘I know it is.And you’ve been so incredibly generous.I will pay you for your time.’
‘I don’t want your money.Keep it for your film.’He flopped back onto the chair, cranked the handle and lay back.‘Hello, ol’ mate.’He scooped up the turtle to let it rest across his chest.‘What grand adventures have you been up to today, Finley?Did you get into a fight in the jungle?Or did you meet some old pirate, and save some fairy princess from a man-eating crocodile, too?’
‘I’m not afairy princess!’ Her outraged words echoed around Finley’s Pond.‘I can handle the hard stuff.’
‘Sure, you can.’But the way he looked at her made her feel useless.
‘I can.And I have, when I’m out in the field filming.’
‘That’s because you don’t get involved.You observe life from a distance—hiding behind your camera like it’s a bloody shield.’
Arsehole.‘Is it any wonder why?Today’s a prime example—a crocodileflewat me.’She stabbed at her chest.
‘It was after the fish, not you.’
‘I was up close and personal with that beast.If I’d been safely behind my camera, like Iusuallyam, you wouldn’t have had to save me.Remember?Youput the fishing rod in my hand.’
‘I was giving you a chance to learn a simple life skill.’He was so cold, even if he was being tender with the turtle.‘Which proves my point.You hide behind that camera because you’re scared of the real world.’
She gritted her teeth, to stop snarling with anger at the smug prick.‘What are you doing?Picking a fight with me on purpose or something?What is wrong!’
He put the turtle on the ground.‘Watch your tone, you’re scaring Finley.’Who seemed fine.
But she did lower her voice, to not scare the poor turtle.‘I am not moving until you tell me what your problem is.’
‘Why do you want to know?’He adjusted the back of his chair, crossed his legs and cradled his beer against his chest.‘Going to put it in your movie, are you?I’m not your test subject.’
She gasped as the fury built at the insult.‘I would never do that.I know what not to share.’
