Her mouth hangs open. I can tell she recognizes me too. There’s shock on her face, and something else… Fear?

Sure, the way she disappeared on me wasn’t very nice. But there’s no reason for her to fear me. Just because I’m a big guy doesn’t mean I’m a violent neanderthal. Of course this common assumption comes in handy sometimes, allowing me to get my way without actually getting into any altercation. But if she’s afraid of me, that would annoy me big time. What does she think I am?

“Don’t I know you from somewhere?” I balance my helmet on the Harley while I size her up.

She’s different in many ways, but she’s still as sexy as ever. My eyes roam all over her body. She’s still got that dancer’s body. Lean and tight, with curves in all the right places. Even in a simple pair of skinny jeans and a cotton shirt, she looks like temptation on a stick. And I’m definitely tempted.

I wonder what she’s doing here. Is she traveling like I am? Does she live and work here now? Would a small town like Ashbourne even have a strip joint?

“I… Uh… Maybe?” She hesitates, then shrugs and tries to change the subject. “My car died on me. Do you know anything about car repairs?”

Oh no, Missy. You’re not getting away that easily.

“Scarlett, right?” I stalk closer and take a good look. I watch her squirm, biting her full lips and swallowing.

“You’ve got me confused with someone else,” she says, challenging me with her big green eyes.

No way. I’ll never forget those eyes. I still remember the way they glaze over when she shivers from pleasure underneath me, her hands grabbing my arms and her muscles clenching around my cock.

“I’d never forget a girl like you,” I say with a smirk. “Maybe I’m not as memorable to you. Maybe you’ve had many interesting nights with many more interesting men, but that one night was pretty special to me.”

Her eyes flick to the side, like she’s thinking of something to say, searching for inspiration from our surroundings.

Too bad. There’s nothing else here but you and me. And we both know you’re not going anywhere with your car in that state.

“You’re going to stand there and tell me you’re not Scarlett? We both know that’s a bald-faced lie,” I say, trapping her gaze with mine.

“If you’re not here to help, you can continue on your way,” she snaps.

“Oh, no. I’m happy to help you. I’m really good with cars. And other things, as I’m sure you know. I’ve shown you how good I am with other things.” I raise my eyebrows.

She blushes. Oh yeah, she knows.

“I’m not the kind of guy who’d just leave a lady stranded by the side of the road in the middle of nowhere when I can help. I just want you to know, even if you don’t want to admit it, that I remember you.”

“Okay, fine. Maybe you know me,” she says while looking away. Jesus, it’s like pulling teeth. And all I want is for her to admit that we’ve met.

“But you’re not Scarlett?”

“My name’s Jessica.” She takes a deep breath, defeated.

“Well, Jessica. Nice to meet you again. I’m still Jacob.” I shoot her a crooked grin while I step closer to the car. “Now, let’s look at this car of yours.”

“It was running fine before, but then out of nowhere it just started to slow down and finally stop. I couldn’t get it to budge no matter how much I press on the gas pedal.” Now she’s suddenly found her voice.

She looks relieved that I’ve stopped asking questions about herself. Apparently, we’ve moved on to talking about the car instead. She’s definitely determined to keep the conversation on the same track.

As I peer under the hood, it quickly becomes clear to me what’s wrong with her car. It’s a common enough problem for old cars. It would take me less time to fix it than it did for me to get her name.

I’m definitely not done with her, though. She thinks she can walk away from me just like that and pretend nothing ever happened? Think again.

“I have the tools, but it’s going to take a whole day for me to fix it.” I turn to the side to watch her face fall.

She’s leaning against the front of the car beside me, looking at the same engine I’m looking at, but definitely not seeing what I can see. Which is great for me.

I can tell her whatever I want and she’d have no choice but to buy it.

“Oh. Well. Forget it then,” she says. “My friend should pick me up soon. I’ll go home and tomorrow the mechanic can come to fix it.”

Home? That’s interesting, That means she lives here now.

I can’t let the mechanic see the car. One look and he’d know it’s a simple fix. If he were to tell her, she’d know I’m bullshitting her.

“It’s okay. I have time. I’ll fix it for you. If you don’t want to wait here, I can take you home on my bike. I’ll come back to fix the car and bring the key back to you. Tomorrow we can come back to get it.”

I imagine her sitting on the back of my Harley, her thighs spread wide by the seat, the wind wrapping her top tight around her body. Maybe if I speed up she’d hold on tight and press her perky tits against my back.

She bites her bottom lip and stares at the engine, as if she’d get some divine inspiration and suddenly understand the inner workings of a car.

Her body is slightly bent at the waist, making her ass stick out deliciously in the air. Damn. The view makes me want to grab her hips and fuck her right here against her old, fucked-up car.

“If you’re worried I’m going to bail, I can leave my stuff at your place. You don’t have to worry about me stealing this car.” I chuckle, which makes her shoot me an angry look.

Hey, it’s not my fault you don’t find it funny. Your car isn’t worth shit and you know it.

She takes one last look at the car engine under the hood, sighs audibly, and finally meets my gaze. “Okay.”

Okay? I’m doing her a big favor and all she has to say to me is okay? If she wasn’t so fucking sexy, I would’ve laughed at her while riding away. She’d be watching my ass getting smaller and smaller in the distance while she stands here helpless and alone.

As it is, though, she’s got my full attention. Ever since that night, she’s haunted my dreams. I’ve woken up with my cock hard and my hands running over cold bed sheets, wishing I was touching her soft, creamy skin instead. I’d jerk off to memories of that one night, conjuring images of her writhing in the throes of ecstasy while I lie alone in the dark.

“Okay.” I shrug like it’s not a big deal and slam the hood down. The sound makes her jump and I stifle a laugh as she glowers at me. “You may want to lock your car. It’s unlikely anybody would want to steal it, but you can’t be too careful.”

I open the hard-plastic luggage bag mounted on the back of my motorcycle and grab my spare helmet. It takes up a lot of space, but it comes in handy sometimes.

Some girl bought it so she could ride with me. When I left her town, she told me to keep it because she wasn’t going to use it with me gone. I had a feeling she was hoping I’d remember her whenever I see the helmet—I do, in a way, but it doesn’t evoke any particular memory about her. I don’t even remember her name.

Now, this girl in front of me who’s grabbing her stuff from inside her beat-up Toyota, I know both her names and I’ll remember them for a long time. I check out the curve of her ass that’s hanging outside the car while she bends down with one leg on the ground and one knee on the car seat.

I could walk over there and push down on her lower back right now, yank her jeans down and plunge deep inside her. There’s nobody here but wood critters. No vehicles passing by. Nobody’s going to stop us.

Besides, I remember how responsive her body is to my touch. I’m sure she’s going to push back against me and scream out my name in no time.

Beep! The sound of the car doors being locked pulls me away from my imagination. Scarlett—no, Jessica—is walking toward me, her full hips swaying with every step. She has put on a green hoodie on top of her shirt. Yeah, baby. This is happening.

I hand her the spare helmet. She takes a quick look at it and gives me a confused frown. Okay, so the helmet is a little girly. It’s black with flowers all over and hot pink skull and crossbones at the back.

I shrug. I don’t have to explain anything to her.

She went away with no explanation after giving me one explosive, unforgettable night and leaving me hungry for more. After her, no matter how much I indulge myself with other women, I could never get any lasting satisfaction. I’d always compare them with her.

If I give women the impression that I’m the kind of guy who’s just gonna fuck them and dump them, it’s only because of this one woman who’s now putting on the ridiculous helmet and climbing onto my Harley Davidson.

I know some women who still hold on to some kind of deep-seated grudge toward me. Well, if nothing else, now that I’m about to find out where Jessica lives, I’ll be able to give them an address where they can send their complaints.

“Ashbourne, right?” I look back to see her nod as I start the engine. I smirk as the engine roars to life and glance over the shoulder. “Hold on tight.”

We glide onto the deserted country road, the air cool underneath the canopy of the trees. As I pick up my speed, she tentatively touches my waist and then wraps her arms around me.

If it wasn’t for my damn leather jacket, I’d be able to feel her tits squished against my back, maybe even her nipples as the wind hardens them into little pebbles.

As it is, I just get a vague sensation of a warm body behind me. Still, as I glance down at her dainty hands clasped in front of my torso, I can’t help but feel my cock harden in my pants. I’ve fantasized about this sometimes, as I cruise down empty, lonely roads on my own.

I slow down as we enter the town so I can hear her shouting the directions above the roar of the engine. I quietly take mental notes of the street names, the landmarks, the number of turns we take before we reach our destination.

I’m a little disappointed when she unclasps her hands and hops off the bike, but I remind myself that we’ll be seeing each other again very soon. I can stay in town for a while and invent some excuses for not-so-random encounters.

“Thank you,” Jessica says as she hands back the black-and-pink helmet and walks toward a cute little house with yellow siding, a little wooden porch, and a glossy black front door. There’s a small lawn in front with nothing but short grass.

I stop my bike so I can put the spare helmet back in its usual place. As I scan my surroundings, I notice a sign hanging in front of the house next door to Jessica’s.

For Rent, it says.

Perfect.