I'm excited to see the gas tanker pull into the lot this morning. I've been learning a lot about how the business works since I've been marooned here for the last few days and I know how much money Stryker loses out on every day that those pumps are dry.

First thing's first though; while the driver fills up the gas tanks, I head out back and grab my bike. For starters, it'll give us a chance to get the pumps back on line since they've been out of commission for awhile. I'm also eager to get gas back in the bike so I can let the engine run for awhile before the battery goes dead.

I'm explaining how I got stranded here to the truck driver and he's giving me a ration of shit about how I look like Stryker's been "taking good care of" me as we head back toward the store together.

The delivery guy's telling me how bad Stryker needs a woman to keep him from going crazy out here by himself, then he corrects himself to "crazier." We're having a good laugh at Stryke's expense as we head back to the man himself standing outside the store with a grim look on his face.

"Hey man," my new buddy addresses Stryker as I slip inside the store to grab the keys to unlock the pumps.

The keys aren't where they ought to be and I realize he probably has them so I start to head back out.

"No man, she ain't staying," I hear Stryker's rough voice say, "She's just been stuck here waiting on your slow ass."

His head is down, looking at the paperwork on the clipboard as he signs off on the delivery. The driver standing almost next to Stryker, his back turned to the store so he doesn't see me standing just inside the door anymore than Stryker does.

"Don't make it sound like work, Stryke," he says with an elbow into Stryker's shoulder, "sweet little thing like that's gotta come in handy when you're holed up out here with no one to keep you company but that damn mutt."

I hear Stryker grunt and watch him hand the clipboard back over to the other guy. "You know me, Dave," I hear him say, "I ain't looking for something permanent. Besides, she's got a life of her own to get back to too, ya know."

Stryker steps off the front porch of the store and I watch Dave, I guess his name is, follow with his clipboard in hand. The two men continue talking as they head back out toward Dave's tanker truck, but it doesn't take long till I can't make out the conversation anymore.

I just stand in the store and watch them go, trying to decide how I feel about what I just overheard. I guess I should be relieved, knowing that he's not expecting me to stay.

God knows the last thing I need is some guy getting attached to me, thinking I'm going to uproot my entire life and move to the middle of nowhere to play Ma and Pa Kettle's Country Store and Gas with him.

Not that there's much to uproot, but still.

I back away from the doors and head for the indoor stairs in the back room that lead directly up to the apartment.

As long as Stryker and I are on the same page, I might as well get my shit together and pack up the bike. It's still early, if I get started in the next hour I might even make it home today.

Ninja comes barreling at me as soon as I open the door into the apartment. She's a miniature tornado of black hair, wagging tail, and wet tongue that doesn't make it easy to round up my meager belongings.

Almost all my clothes have ended up in Stryker's room, except my riding gear. I gather things up and head toward the guest room with an arm full of clothes and Ninja running circles around my shins.

I pack everything into the weather proof bag that fits on the rear rack of the bike while Ninja helps.

Actually, "helps" isn't the right word. First, she brings me a mangled tennis ball and drops it next to my feet. I toss it back into the hallway but she just looks at me.

"OK fine, don't fetch," I tell her.

A moment later I feel something drop onto my boot and I look down to find a well-chewed green duck that used to have a squeaker in it on the ground and the mournful face of a little black dog staring up at me.

"Ninja," I laugh as I bend down for her duck, "he doesn't even squeak anymore." I squeeze what's left of the toy anyway and give it a playful toss into the hallway, expecting her to go after it.

Nope. Ninja's head turns and watches the thing bounce through the doorway and then she looks back at me and rolls over with her feet in the air.

"You know I'm leaving, don't ya, pup?" I almost manage to laugh when I say it as I reach down to pet her exposed belly.

By the time I've checked the entire apartment for anything I might have forgotten and have my bag ready to go, Ninja has delivered two more of her favorite toys, a bone I've never seen before, and one of Stryker's house shoes to my feet.

"Ninj," I tell her as I pick up the shoe and carry it back to its mate beside the door, "seriously. Stop helping."

When I return from the guest room with my bag in one hand and my helmet in the other, I find Ninja laying by the door that opens to the spiral staircase that leads into the store's back room.

"Hey pup," I coo at the dejected little face that looks up at me as I squat down and give up my helmet in favor of scratching the furrowed space above her eyes, "you take good care of him, OK?"

She's such an expressive thing. Ninja answers me with a little whine and I swear her eyebrows just knitted together like she's trying to tell me it's too big a job for just one little dog.

"You were doing just fine before I showed up," I remind her as I gather up my stuff again.

I close the stairwell door on the most heartbreaking set of eyes I've ever seen, watching me from and ink-black face resting on the floor between two paws.

"You guys are going to be fine," I promise her as the door latches. "We're all going to be just fine," I mutter out loud on my way down the stairs, "just like we were before."

My words are still being spoken to Ninja even though she can't hear me anymore but I'm not sure Ninj is the one that needs to believe them.

The back room of the store isn't very big, the stairs are kind of in the middle of the room, the door to the walk in fridge to one side that accesses the coolers, the other side of the room lined with shelves that store dry goods and non perishable stuff.

Stryker has an office back here. It's filled with file cabinets, a desk that's too big for the small space, and a computer that's still on dial-up internet because this place is in the exact definition of "nowhere." He doesn't use the office much. He stays inside the store during business hours-- in that makeshift living room at the back that I noticed when I first arrived.

He says he pulled out what used to be a couple shelves of VHS movies that his aunt used to rent out. Internet may not be fast or reliable out here, but apparently Fell's Valley isn't so backwards that the 47 people who live within a 50 mile radius of the store miss the opportunity to rent a bunch of 20 year old movies.

When I walk out the glass door of the store, I see Stryker standing at the gas pump next to my bike waiting for me.