Chloe

I wish he'd put on a shirt, and I don't at the same time. Before I moved here, I used to spend most of my time on the beaches of San Diego among surfers, so I'm pretty much immune to the sight of hot, muscular shirtless guys. But the sight of this one stirred pure desire in me of the kind I haven’t felt in years. Nor let myself feel. He's big and tall, his biceps wide, and his stomach sporting an eight pack, not just a regular six pack. He has a pretty conservative number of tattoos, but they still add to the allure. I've had zero inclination to bring a guy to my bed, since breaking up with my ex and all that happened afterwards, so the flash of desire to change that for this guy when I first looked at him was as surprising as it was momentarily enjoyable. And the pull he has on me is still persisting now that I'm sitting close enough to feel the heat he gives off.

Maybe all that's just from the way he was looking at me. He's still doing it now, eyeing me like I'm naked and not found wanting at all. Like he'd enjoy getting naked with me. But I'm thinking clearly again. He was very quick to say he's an experienced construction worker, and coupled with this sexually charged look he's giving me, I'm afraid it was just a lie.

"So you know about buildings and construction and stuff?" I ask, inwardly cringing at the airy, valley girl way I delivered the question. All that was missing from the picture was me flipping my hair back as I said it.

The left edge of his lips curls up in the sexiest grin I've seen this side of a magazine spread. His sparkling green eyes aren't helping either. They're the color of freaking emeralds and the more I look at them, the more I want to look at them. I take a long swallow of my beer in a vain effort to compose myself again.

"Yes, I know about construction and stuff," he says, still grinning. "But I thought we'd start this conversation on a different note. What's your name?"

"Oh, yeah," I mutter, nearly spilling my beer as I set it on the bar to extend my hand. I don't know what it is about this guy, but he's turning me into a bigger klutz than I was as a teenager. "I'm Chloe."

"Rider," he says, shaking my hand firmly. And the touch of his warm, rough skin sends a bona fide shock right through my stomach. I haven't felt that this strongly in a dog's age. Possibly never.

"What kind of name is that?" I ask before thinking.

He's not grinning anymore. "My real name's Michael, but no one calls me that. So, what kinda help do you need?"

I shouldn't have made fun of his name. The sparkle is gone from his eyes, and I want it back.

"The rain is making streams all over the mud at our settlement and they're seriously eroding the ground. Since all the buildings are on stilts, I'm afraid they'll just topple down."

He's squinting at me now, nodding his head slowly. "A settlement of houses on stilts? Where do you live? In a pilgrim community?"

I can tell he's trying not to laugh at his feeble little joke, but that doesn't make his question any less annoying.

"It's an orphanage," I say. "Practically completely volunteer based. We grow our own food and generally do the best we can to get by. This problem is beyond any one of us to solve, and I've just spent the last two hours going door to door in every village near here trying to get someone to help, but no one will," I glare at Fernando, as I say it, since he was my last hope, but he's wiping down a glass and pretending not to listen.

"An orphanage?" Rider asks and his tone alone makes me look at him. It's wistful and there's no trace left of the sexual bravado it was full of before.

"Yeah," I say, taking another sip of my beer.

"In that case, I'd love to help you even more," he says.

"How so?" I ask, since this change in him is totally perplexing.

He grins again, but it's softer than before. Even his eyes are like two tiny peaceful mountain lakes right now.

"Well, I won't just be helping out a pretty girl. I'll also be making orphans happy. But I need to see the place first, before I make promises I can't keep."

Something in his tone tells me he's not big on making promises, or keeping them, but I won't ask him about that.

Instead I ask Fernando for a pen and a piece of paper.

"I'll draw you a map and we can meet there tomorrow morning," I say to Rider.

His face lights up with a wide smile, which just transfers to my face without any conscious control on my part.

"What?" I ask, taking the pen and paper Fernando's offering me, but keeping my eyes locked on Rider's.

"We can just go there tonight."

And bam, there it is. He's not hiding what he's really saying at all. He wants to share my bed tonight. I know it as well as if he'd actually said it. And the carefree, happy-go-lucky surfer girl I used to be is saying go for it, take him home, it's been a long time, he's hot as hell, hotter than any guy you've ever been with.

But no. I'm nowhere near even close to trusting another man enough to get intimate, and when I am ready again it certainly won't be this bad boy. He's got "Hook-ups Only" written all over his rugged yet gorgeous face. Three years ago, that wouldn't bother me at all. But I'm not that go-with-the-flow girl anymore. And sex is something I associate with the apocalypse now, and not pleasure. Besides, if he really is a construction expert, I need him to stick around and fix the flooding problem at the orphanage.

"It's just a bunch of very basic bungalows with no running water," I say and start to sketch the map, so I can stop looking into his eyes and getting ideas. "I'm sure you'll be much more comfortable at your hotel."

"What hotel?" he says and laughs. "I was forced to stop here because of the rain. Else I'd still be riding, or bedding down on some beach."

"Interesting holiday you got planned there," I muse, but I actually mean it. Getting in my car, just me and my surfboard, and riding off into the unknown in search of the perfect waves was how I spent most of my weekends back in the day. I haven’t done that since I moved here, but right now, the desire to do it again very soon is filling my whole body. I haven't even gone surfing yet, let alone spent more than a day away from the orphanage. And even when I did, it was on some errand for it.

"My whole life's more or less a holiday," he says, laughing. "So I'd call this an adventure."

I stop sketching the map. "You're saying you need a place to sleep?"

He nods, grinning at me again in a way that makes me sure sleeping is not what he has in mind.

I drink the rest of my beer, hoping its coldness will cool me down some. Because his idea sounds very appealing. But nothing will happen between us. I'm not ready, and he's not the one to change that.

I slide off my stool. "Let's go."

Fernando gives me a warning sort of look while I wait for Rider to pay, which is taking a long time, since he's got Colombian and Mexican money mixed in with the Brazilian Reals. I shrug, mouth a "what?"

Fernando inclines his head towards Rider, who's still busy sifting through his cash. "Tem certeza? Esse cara cheira a encrenca."

Yeah, Fernando, I can see that this guy is trouble. I wasn't born yesterday. But I need someone to help fix our home and no one else is volunteering.

But I don't tell him that. I just nod.

Rider has paid, and he follows me outside, where the rain has miraculously stopped. The full moon is even shining through the clouds, bathing everything in a soft, dreamlike white sheen.

“I think there'll be enough light for you to check out the problem tonight,” I say.

He's put on his shirt and the leather, sleeveless jacket he was drying out at the bar. And while I'd prefer to still be looking at his muscles, this looks bad ass too.

"Yeah, maybe," he agrees. "I'll get my bike, then we can go."

A bike? But I have no time to ask any questions before he wheels out a shiny black and silver Harley from under the bar's overhang. The chrome parts are gleaming in the moonlight, and the only thing I'm thinking of saying is that I've never ridden on the back of a bike, and I really want to. But that's the old, wild surfer girl in me talking.

"Alright. My jeep's over there," I say and unnecessarily point to it, because it's the only car in the parking lot.

He makes a disappointed sort of sound. "Pity. I hoped I'd get to give you a ride."

"I bet you did," I hear myself say with all the flirtatious coyness of the girl I used to be back when I still trusted men.

"Another time then," he says, swinging his leg over the bike.

No, right now.

I ignore that annoying voice inside my head and just head to the jeep. By the time I reach it, I'm already back to normal. All this guy will be doing at the orphanage is fixing our problem. I don't need casual sex, because that will not fix my personal problem. It'll just make it worse. I've gone years without sex, and that's not about to change for Rider, despite all his muscles, his green eyes, and his magnetism. I'm actually surprised he didn't recognize me from the sex videos that were all over the Internet when I left the States, and might still be, for all I know, since I don’t check anymore. But he seems like a guy who doesn't watch a lot of porn, since he's too busy doing the real thing.

* * *

Rider

Man, if she won't let me share her bed tonight, I probably won't sleep. She's definitely the hottest chick I've met this side of the last decade. Wholesome, and hotter than most strippers, with an all-natural body. It's hard to find those kinds of curves free of silicone, and on a woman that doesn't fret over every sip of beer she takes. But I don't know if she's interested in me too. Her eyes say, “Yes”, but everything else is more like, “Hell, no”. She also reminds me of someone I was once close to, but I can't put my finger on who.

We've been driving down a pitch dark road for almost half an hour now. The moon's still high in the sky, but this road is bordered by thick jungle on both sides and so muddy I'm starting to worry about my bike. But I'd risk even my bike for a chance to peel those wet clothes off Chloe. I can fix my bike, but this hard on she gave me can only be fixed by her.

We turn a corner and suddenly the jungle opens up into a huge, terraced moonlit clearing. She stops and gets out of the car to unlock a huge metal gate in a wire fence. The gate's total overkill, since I'm sure a child could kick a hole in that fence. Even in moonlight, I can see the rust.

"It’s just a little further. Go straight down when you enter," she yells, and then gets back in the jeep.

Despite her instructions, I stop by the side of the road and wait for her to lock the gate again. Apart from the moonlight and our headlights it's very dark and we're in the middle of the jungle. Who knows what kind of beasts are lurking in the trees, and I want to keep her safe. It's a weird thing to feel for a girl I just met, or any girl I ever met, but I do. The fact that this is where she lives makes no difference.

She smiles faintly as she passes me, and then I'm following her down a muddy road that feels like I'm on a slide. So I go slow, because the last thing I need is to fall off my bike and make a fool of myself in front of her. The idea downright frightens me, since I want to impress her.

The settlement she was talking about finally comes into view. It's made up of about ten thatch covered, wooden houses on stilts, some larger some smaller, arranged in a circle around a wide open area. In the distance, atop an elevation behind the settlement, a huge, mansion-type house glows white in the moonlight.

She drives the jeep into the only building that's not on stilts.

"You can leave your bike in here," she says, coming out of the structure.

"I was just gonna do that," I say and grin at her since she seems to like it when I do that. Or at least her eyes say, “Yes” more clearly when I do.

She nods and goes over to the long table lining one side of the garage then comes join me with an armload of flashlights.

"I don't know which ones work," she says and smiles sheepishly at my questioning look. "Let's go look at the water now, OK?"

"Sure," I say and take some of the flashlights from her hands. "But let's not carry a bunch of non-working flashlights with us."

I try the first one and it works, revealing her blushing cheeks.

"Yeah, why didn't I think of that?" she says breathlessly.

She starts checking the flashlights too, still flustered and breathing a little fast. I'm the one having this effect on her, which is encouraging.

A few moments later, we're each holding a working flashlight, and she's leading a path through the mud towards one of the larger buildings. I should be using the flashlight to illuminate my way, but it looks better lighting up her heart shaped ass as it sways in front of me. I can't wait to watch that perfect ass bouncing on my cock. I'll take a look at this problem of hers, and then she's gonna solve the one she's causing in my jeans.

"Here," she says and turns abruptly, catching me staring at her ass.

She gasps, her flashlight illuminating one of the building's stilts and mine on her thighs, just below her pussy. I clear my throat, and focus the beam of my flashlight on the problem she's trying to show me. The water is coming down the incline in a frothing stream, running right past three of the rickety-looking stilts holding up the house on one side.

"You're worried this water will erode all the soil and make the whole building collapse?" I ask, shining the flashlight up the ravine to see where the water is coming from. This isn't the only stream rushing down the hill

"Yes," she says. "And it's happening with some of the other buildings too. But this one is the worst."

"Well," I say turning to her. "I'm afraid you're probably right."

She gasps again, her face falling like she just got the worst news of her life.

"But all you need is a good ditch to divert all this water," I hasten to explain, since, damn it, I don't want her looking that scared, ever.

"A ditch? So it can be fixed?" she asks.

"And pretty easily too. A couple days of digging should do it. I don't know much about houses on stilts, but when I lived in Alaska we had a similar problem. It was fine in the winter, but when the spring thaw came there was suddenly so much water it washed the tool shed clean away," I'm rambling, since I want her to know I can fix this for her. But I never meant to go into personal details. I never do. With anyone. My life and my story is my business.

"Alaska, wow," she says. "It must be beautiful there."

I shrug. "It's incredible. But also very cold. After one winter there, I realized I'm more of a warm climate kinda guy."

"Me too," she says, then sort of shakes like she said too much. "I'm glad this is an easy fix though."

"Well, I don't know about easy," I say and laugh. "I'm not exactly looking forward to a week or more of digging in this humidity. I assume you don't have any heavy machinery."

She grimaces, then smiles widely right after, moonlight making her teeth glow and my cock twitch from the radiance she's giving off. Her smile is like noonday sun. "I'm not even sure we have more than one shovel."

I'm grinning again, since I'd dig this ditch with my bare hands for her. I'm just about to tell her that when she says, "Better get some rest, so we can start bright and early."

"Right," I say, since she just ruined my chance to let her know I'm hers all the way if she wants me.

"Great, I'll show you to your bungalow, " she says and smiles again, not as brightly, but still plenty bright.

"Lead the way," I say, and if she doesn't soon, I'll just kiss her right here. Seems like the good news I was able to give her has chipped away most of her standoffishness and coldness, and now she's back to the perky southern Cali girl. But it's more than that. She's like a ray of sunshine when she's not trying to be distant, and it's warming me right now even though it's the middle of the night.

She stops at the foot of one of the smaller bungalows and illuminates the steps for me. "You can take this one. It's unoccupied right now."

"And which one's yours?" I ask, grinning at her. I'm one of her smiles away from picking her up and carrying her up these stairs. "I think I'd prefer that one."

I get no smile, just a sharp intake of breath, and the look on her face is chillier than all the ice in Alaska. I don't know if I scared her, offended her, or just killed someone she loved. Her face is that unreadable. And that sunshine she was offering just a minute or two ago is gone.

But then she finally grins at me and taps my bicep. "Easy there, Rider. You'll need your strength for tomorrow, and I'm spoken for. I'll see you in the morning. Good night."

Then she walks away, her heart shaped ass swaying off into the darkness. I left all my things on the bike, but I don't need anything. I just need her to come back and tell me she's free to be with me. That she's not really spoken for. Or at least that it won't stop her from spending the night with me.