Javier clinked his beer against mine as we looked out over the view. “I told you the hike up would be worth it, didn’t I?” he said.

I sighed and shook my head, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips. “Javier, it’s beautiful—but I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you that,” I said. I picked at the label on my beer bottle. “But if you think this’ll make me stay . . .”

“Oh, no, I know I couldn’t do that to you,” Javier said, laughing. He sighed, though, and wrapped an arm around my shoulders, hugging me impulsively for a moment—but just for that fleeting moment.

It was a summary of exactly how our relationship had been over the past two weeks: we were close, but there was nothing overtly sexual about it. It was as though we were both skirting around the idea of it. There had been that one night after the bar, of course . . .

“Come on,” Javier said laughingly. “They finally managed to clear the dam; let’s go for a swim. We could both stand to get a little cleaner.”

I laughed, but I had had maybe one more beer than I’d needed, and the idea of stripping down and going for a moonlight swim with him was certainly appealing. “We have a shower,” I reminded him, ever practical.

“We can’t shower right now,” Javier said, rolling his eyes as though it were obvious. “Everyone else has already gone to bed; we wouldn’t want to disturb them.”

I shook my head. “All right,” I said. “But no funny business. If you run off with my clothes and make me walk back to town naked, I swear there’ll be consequences.” There was a definite part of me that was unsure about this, remembering everything with Oliver. Even though I’d been out here for a little while now, it felt as though things back home were unresolved, like he might still be waiting for me.

Which was ridiculous. I knew Oliver would have moved on by now. And I liked Javier. Where was the harm in having one fun night skinny-dipping with him in Argentina? Maybe it would help me make my mind up once and for all about the Oliver thing.

Not that I still needed to make up my mind. I knew that Oliver and I weren’t suited for each other. We were fundamentally different people.

Javier laughed. “I would never steal your things,” he said, even though I’d heard enough stories of his mischief—and seen enough of his harmless pranks around the camp—that I didn’t know if I could really trust him.

But I let him lead me away from the road, towards the river. Sure enough, when we got there, the water was crystal clear, enough so that we could see the rocks at the bottom of the deepest part, as the water churned sluggishly along, a change from the flooded, swollen waters that had met us when we’d first come there a week earlier.

I stripped down to my bra and panties, debating going in just like that. When I glanced over, Javier was already fully naked, like he didn’t have a care in the world, and after taking a deep breath, I joined him in the cool water. It was a nice change, after sweating in the sun all day working on the houses.

When I looked over, Javier was watching me with an obvious hunger. I froze for a moment and then moved hesitantly towards him. Javier swam towards me as well, meeting me in the middle, his hands slipping along my skin and drawing me close to him.

I clung to him even as we both kicked our feet to stay afloat, drifting sluggishly with the current. All I could focus on was the heat of his body against the chill of the water, the frictionless way his hands stroked across my sides, exploring my curves.

He pulled away, giving me an unreadable gaze. Then he broke the moment by splashing water in my face and beginning a race back upstream to our clothes.

I shook my head, coming back to the present. “The thing is, I’d be happy to stay here,” I admitted. “I like the work that we’re doing.”

“You’re miserable at building houses,” Javier said bluntly.

I snorted, remembering how I had misread his plans a couple days before and cut a bunch of poles too short. “Well, if you would just write legibly,” I countered.

Javier laughed, but he sobered quickly. “You have other projects that need your attention, though,” he said.

“I do,” I sighed. I paused. “I sometimes wish I could just give my full attention to each project that I work on. But in the background of this project, there’s our initiative in Nepal that’s just wrapping up, plus a couple other projects that are in various different stages. I can’t focus on it all, and I only left my assistant with plans for three weeks without me. It’s time that I got back.”

“If you devoted your full attention to each project you came across, you wouldn’t be half as effective,” Javier said. “You’ve done the hard part: making sure that this project got off the ground. Now it’s time to leave it to the grunts to finish it.”

I watched the sun dip lower in the sky, hardly believing that it was my last night there in Argentina—at least for now. My last night with Javier . . .

“Do you think our paths will cross again?” I asked speculatively. The world of volunteers isn’t that large, at least not with people who do this kind of thing habitually rather than once, to earn some brownie points with their religion or whatever.

Javier shrugged and gestured around. “There’s still a lot to be done here,” he said. “And they’ve got me in a leadership position, so I imagine I’ll be here through all of it. I can’t walk away yet . . .” He paused. “And once all of this is finished, it’ll be back to Asia for me, to return to my work there.”

“Of course,” I murmured, even though I could feel a surge of disappointment inside myself.

What were you expecting? I thought. That he would drop everything and come back to New York with you?

The truth was, if Javier were the kind of man to drop everything and come back to New York with me, I wouldn’t have been half as interested in him. I liked that he was just like me. I liked that he knew what he was passionate about, what he wanted in life, and that he devoted his full attention to it. But I felt a little tearful, thinking that I would probably never see him again. In another time and place . . .

* * *

“You seem upset,” Jeri said, peering at me over her glasses the following Friday morning, after she’d given me the run-down of everything that had happened in my absence. “Wasn’t Argentina everything that you thought it would be?”

I thought of the true source of my unhappiness: the fact that Javier and I had never had a chance to explore whatever it was that was between us. But I wasn’t stupid enough to tell Jeri that I was upset over a man. Instead, I just shrugged. “I’m still worn out,” I lied.

“Well, was it at least worth giving up the chance to date a billionaire?” she asked teasingly.

The last thing I wanted to think about right then was Oliver, even though it seemed that there was no escaping thoughts of him. He’d been on my mind since I’d gotten back into the city early Thursday morning, and it was another thing that had me torn up inside and feeling somber.

“Jeri, why don’t you stop worrying about my love life and just focus on your own relationship?” I asked. “Jackson is a great guy.”

“He is,” Jeri said laughingly. “But he’s no billionaire. And he’s got muscles, but not like Oliver’s muscles.”

I rolled my eyes and went into my office, shutting myself in and trying to focus on my work. The words seemed to blur together. I put my head in my hands, digging my fingers into my scalp. Oliver and Javier; Javier and Oliver.

My mind raced, comparing the two of them. On the one hand, there was Oliver. He was loud and brash. More interested in business than people. He didn’t seem to care about anyone or anything—except the chase, maybe. But once he had achieved his goal, whether some business venture or tumbling into bed with some new girl, he seemed to lose interest entirely.

Or maybe you’re just telling yourself that so that you don’t have to see where things go with him, my inner voice said snidely. I pushed that thought away.

On the other hand, there was Javier. His work was methodical and passionate. He truly cared about people, and he gave everything he had to the causes that he stood for. He had never meant to stay in Argentina for as long as he was now planning to, but he had changed his schedule to allow that to happen. He understood that when people needed help, there was no standing back and watching, no time to waste.

He wouldn’t have been kissing my ear and trying to get me in bed when I was trying to figure out how to help in Argentina, after seeing the news.

But then again, he also wasn’t the type to make a bold move like Oliver had in the cellar. For all that Javier was passionate, there was a reserved side to him, at least where romance was concerned. I had spent nearly three weeks in Argentina, and the most we had done was touch, and that had only happened that one time. It had left me constantly wondering where I stood with him.

With Oliver, I knew exactly where I stood. Even if I didn’t particularly like that I was just one in a string of meaningless flings for him.

But there were similarities between the two of them, too. I couldn’t stop thinking that maybe I’d misunderstood Oliver when he’d said that thing about helping people that I didn’t even know. Maybe he really didn’t understand. Maybe he thought I should be helping people that I did know, right there in New York City. Of course, there were so many problems in the city that I could focus my attention on as well . . .

If Oliver could get to know the people that I was helping, maybe he would understand. But I shouldn’t have to make him understand, should I? I wondered . . . Maybe the only reason I empathized with these people was because I knew exactly what so many of them were going through. Maybe that was the only reason Javier empathized with them as well: because he had grown up in a village like Peoria.

Was it fair to be mad at Oliver for not understanding, when he had no way of understanding?

Regardless, it seemed useless to keep thinking about Oliver. Javier was far more suitable for me, but he was halfway around the world, and we weren’t likely to cross paths again soon.

Not that Oliver and I were any more likely to cross paths. There had been no more messages from him when I’d returned, and I knew that I had probably burnt that bridge for good.

Part of me was sure that I was just destined to be alone. Without a family, without a childhood home, without a lover, without children. I swallowed hard and dragged my eyes back to my work, forcing myself to focus on the numbers and words. No matter how much I might want to wallow in misery, there was work to be done.