Nick Montagu stopped by her side. He was dressed in faded blue shorts, a T-shirt and deck shoes. Surveying her for a moment, he said, “Hello again. Can I help?”
What incredible bad luck, she thought. It was almost funny.
Larissa swallowed hard. “I just had a slight problem with my bike, and I was wondering if someone could help. I didn’t realise it was you.”
He gave a ghost of a smile. “You mean if you had known it was me you wouldn’t have waved for help?”
“No, that’s not what I meant…”
He got off his bike and put it to one side. “What’s this problem, anyway? Your pedals, by the look of it.”
“You don’t have to bother – I know what’s wrong…” But he was kneeling by her bike, inspecting the damage.
“Your cotter pin is broken,” he announced after a moment.
She sighed. “You don’t say. I know what’s wrong.”
She gave his bike a quick glance. “I was hoping whoever was riding towards me might have a repair kit – but apparently you don’t.”
“Nope. You’ll need a bit more than a tyre patch to fix this, though.”
“I know how to replace a cotter pin, thank you. I need a small spanner and a wedge of metal to act as a temporary pin. I’ve got all that stuff in my repair kit.”
“Where is your repair kit?”
She hesitated. “Well, it’s at home,” she admitted, feeling foolish.
He gave her a look from his kneeling position. “Not much good there, is it?”
She didn’t trust herself to reply. Why didn’t he just go away?
“Are you going out to this Cape – Vlamingh, is it? – further on?” he asked, straightening up again.
“Yes,” she said, and them immediately regretted saying so. It wasn’t any of his business.
“So am I. Would you like a lift?”
She looked at him, incredulous. Surely he couldn’t be serious! She wasn’t going to accept any help from him.
“No, thank you,” she replied frostily. “I’m quite capable of walking.”
He must have detected the chilly note in her voice. “Fine,” he said abruptly. He got on his bike again, and pedaled away from her without so much as a backward glance.
She looked balefully at his back as he rode up the final crest. She could see the muscles in his legs working as he smoothly tackled the hill. His arms, too, showed some muscle as he gripped the handlebars…
With an impatient shake of her head she grasped her bike and began trudging towards the Cape.
Nick had better not pester her while she was there, she thought ferociously. If he followed her around she would tell him in no uncertain terms to remove himself.
After ten minutes of brisk walking she reached the Cape. The road stopped at a couple of picnic buildings, and a wooden walkway led out further to the edge of the cliff. Down below were sandy, inviting stretches of beach. Larissa knew from her past visits that, although the Cape seemed quite small in size, there were numerous nooks and crannies that you could explore for the whole day.
There could have been a great scene with her perched on his handlebars.
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stay tuned...who knows what could happen in the next 500 words...Sex on the Beach?
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