"So you just took off on the bike?" I've probably asked her the same question about a dozen times now but I haven't gotten tired of hearing her talk yet.

"Yup." Jordan stands in front of my kitchen sink, washing dishes as I hand them to her. "It was probably a pretty dumb thing to do, now that I look back on it."

She looks up at me with her hand held out for the next dish to wash but it's just the two of us, there weren't many dishes to do.

"All out of dishes," I hold up my empty hands with a shrug.

She points at the pots on the stove, "Start giving me the pots and pans then," she tells me nonchalantly.

"You really don't have to help clean up, you know." I've been trying to take over this job since we finished dinner but she refuses to let me do my own damn dishes.

"I know I don't have to," she flicks soapy water into my face with a movement of her fingertips. "Now start handing me the pots and pans."

So it turns out Jordan isn't an angry man-hater at all and I'm a big, fat, idiot. A big, fat, idiot that almost lost out on an opportunity to get to know this incredible woman.

"I didn't mean to come off like it was an insult, you know," I start another lame apology as I reluctantly hand her the big stock pot I cooked the sauce in. "It's just that I--"

"Yeah, yeah," she says with a knowing nod, "you weren't expecting a chick."

"Kids cut across the hills all the time, underestimate their fuel capacity or how far they are from home-- every so often I wake up to one camped out by the pump. If I'd known you were a girl, I'd have invited you in when I got home last night."

Jordan laughs, "I'm not sure if I'm insulted that you think I'm too delicate to handle a night in a tent or if I'm skeezed out by the thought of being lured into some creepy dude's lair."

"Creepy dude?" I drain the beer from the bottle I had with dinner and watch her dry her hands.

"Creepy dude," she says affirmatively as she looks back at me and then winks.

"How am I creepy?"

I follow her back to the living room and watch her sit on one end of my ratty old, hand-me-down sofa and pull her feet up under her.

I really want to sit down next to her. I want her to lean against my chest and let me stroke her hair while she tells me the rest of her story, but we're just barely friends now...and she just called me "creepy."

There's not any other furniture out in the front room though. I look around and contemplate my options, and then decide to risk taking a seat on the opposite end of the sofa.

Jordan watches me with eyes that have held me captive since dinner. They're a sort of green-gray combination that change color with her moods. Right now they're a stormy gray as they watch me settle in on the other end of the couch from her.

"You live all by yourself?" She says as she casts a quick glance around my place. I don't know if that's her answer or if she's avoiding the question.

Nodding toward the mop of black fur that's laying on the kitchen tile mournfully staring at me as though I forgot to feed her, I answer with a simple, "Yup."

"In the middle of nowhere?" She smiles as she says it, like pointing out my own life to me is supposed to make me realize something.

"Yup," I say again.

"How'd you end up out here all by yourself?"

The sarcasm drops out of her voice and she shifts on her end of the sofa so she's facing me fully. Her legs unfold and stretch out toward me till her bare feet are against my knee casually.

She seems genuinely curious which, I guess is only fair since I've made her repeat her own story several times since we started talking over dinner.

"Well, I came up to help the old lady out," I start at what I figure is the beginning.

"Old lady?"

I know what she's thinking when she repeats the words.

"Nah...not like my old lady," I wave the thought away. "A fucking wife is the last thing I need in my life."

"Your mom?"

I shake my head, "nah...Mom died when I was in high school." I wait for the inevitable and she gives me a sympathetic frown.

"That sucks," she tells me softly with a gentle shove of her foot against my leg.

"Yeah, she had cancer. It was rough but life has to go on, you know?"

My hand drops down and she doesn't flinch when I pick her foot up and start rubbing her toes.

"Dad didn't take it too good though. I mean, like not good at all. He kinda shut down and never really got his shit together after she died."

I don't think I've ever really talked to anyone about it. Not really. But Jordan's listening intently and it feels good to sit here with her so I keep talking.

"The old lady was my aunt-- Dad's sister. She bought this place as a sort of a retirement thing in her 60s. But the place needed a lot of work and Dad's about useless for anything. I was coming up here every summer to help her out until she got sick. Then I moved up here full time to help run the place."

Jordan stretches out her other foot and sinks low enough to get both feet in my lap while she rests her head on the arm of the sofa. "What happened to your aunt?" she says softly, like she's worried I'm going to shut up if I realize I'm talking.

That almost makes me laugh.

"Aunt Dorreen passed away a couple years back," I tell her. "I mean, she got sick and then she got better but she couldn't run this place on her own anymore and being out here in the middle of nowhere wasn't a good idea if she needed an ambulance or something. She moved into town and I stayed out here. When she finally passed away, she left the place to me."

"Wow." Jordan crosses her arms behind her head and watches me rubbing her feet, "So you like it out here, huh? Never thought about selling the place and going back to civilization?"

"Can't say 'never,'" I tell her honestly, "but never seriously enough to actually do it, I guess."

I think about yesterday and how done with this place I was when I got home last night. Done with living in the fucking boondocks with shit for internet and going weeks sometimes without seeing a woman, let alone getting a chance to feel one wrapped around my body.

Not that that's what I'm looking for. Nothing permanent, anyway. Fuck that. I said it already and I meant it, I watched my dad lose his mind when Mom died. He hasn't been right since. I'm not looking for a woman to move in here and turn this dump into a home-- no matter how much it needs it-- and I sure as hell ain't looking for a woman to turn it into her home.

"It's gotta get lonely out here though?" Jordan's foot seems to stretch dangerously close to my crotch and I wonder if I'm imagining it, "Maybe you should invest in a mail order bride or something?"

"No way, I don't plan on getting married ever. My mom was everything to Dad, when he lost her, he lost his mind. I'm never going to let some woman be the center of my universe like that. Too big a risk. Staying out here in the sticks is a solid bet for avoiding getting into a relationship and that's how I like it-- Ninja's the only girl that gets to call this place home."

I guess I should know better by this point, but I still expect Jordan to give me a big lecture about how important falling in love is and how everyone wants it, deep down.

Hell, by the time I'm done telling her my take on love and how it can go fuck itself, I'm steeled for the standard speech I've been getting from women since I was 15.

Which is probably why I'm so damned surprised when she crawls over my lap and starts kissing me instead.