Reconsidering Riley (16 page)

Whoa
. Riley jerked to a stop. He
boggled.

To his left, Bruce was massaging the feet of
a chanting Mitzi. Catching Riley watching him, the rascal grinned.
Probably, Bruce had been laying the moves on Mitzi all morning, and
she'd given him pity foot-rub duty. Pathetic. So much for the
football talk. Maybe Mack...

But Mack was sitting cheerfully on the
ground in front of Kelly, rubbing her big toes. He hummed. Kelly
chanted something about "...Tim. And, I guess, Mrs. Tim?" The two
of them looked cozy as a manicurist and a favorite nail art junkie.
Unbelievable. So much for the Doritos talk.

Feeling almost desperate now, Riley spotted
Lance and strode toward the teenager. He was only fifteen. Surely
he hadn't fallen victim to whatever...
thing
...had happened
here. But when Riley reached him, he found the boy's dreamy-eyed
gaze locked on—Alexis! Terrific. So much for the big screen TV
talk.

The whole world had gone wacko.

"What the hell
is
this?" Riley said.
"I leave you people alone for a few minutes—"

"Forty-five minutes," Jayne said, consulting
her watch.

"—and—" He faltered, momentarily
discombobulated by the realization that she might actually have
missed him. Then, "For a few minutes, and what happens? An
ankles-down orgy!"

Alexis perked up interestedly.

He took three long steps toward her and
slapped his palms over her ears. "You ought to be ashamed of
yourselves."

As a group, they were unabashed. Several
people shrugged.

"It's not, like, just ankles-down," Carla
informed him. "It's hands, too. Hand reflexology."

Riley glared at Jayne.
You perpetuated
this
, his frown said.

To his aggravation, she seemed to be holding
back a grin. "It's just my Reverse Romeo Reflexology technique. You
see, areas in the hands and feet correspond with areas in the body.
Heels to intestines, mid-soles to solar plexus, big toes to
brains—"

"You'd need big toes
for
brains to
believe this works!"

Jayne drew herself up. "This is an ancient
and respected discipline. It helps bring the body into balance by
unblocking vital energy passageways. I added a new spin by
including a chant designed to help release thoughts of the person
who broke your heart. If you're too closed-minded to give it a
chance...well, that's your loss, Riley."

He scoffed.

Alexis yanked his hands from her ears. "Wait
'til I tell Gramps you let me go on an orgy!"

Doris, Donna, and Mitzi snickered. Given a
scowl from Riley, they slapped on straight faces.

"Gramps doesn't need to know about any of
this," he told his niece. It might break Bud's heart to know the
family's old-fashioned, tradition-driven travel adventure trips
were being used for...
this
. His grandfather still thought
ordinary therapy sessions were for "pantywaists and crybabies."
Riley didn't know what he'd make of group reflexology.

A giggle came from just behind him. Riley
turned. A squirming, smiling Mitzi and leering Bruce froze beneath
his gaze.

"He was tickling my foot," she complained,
pointing.

"You liked it, baby," Bruce said,
laughing.

More giggles.
Oh, boy
.

The whole scenario reminded Riley of
something else.

"And
you
," he said, rounding on
Bruce, and Mack too. "What do you think you're doing, rubbing on
your travelers' feet like demented cabana boys? You're professional
guides!"

They scrambled upright with satisfying
speed. "Sorry, boss," the said in unison.

"We didn't have anything else to do," Mack
added.

Bruce nodded. Even Lance transferred his
lovesick gaze from Alexis long enough to agree. All three of them
defended the scene Riley had walked in on.

Stupid as it was, to Riley their actions
felt like a betrayal. It was as though they'd gone over to the
other side—the feminine side—leaving him all on his own.
Alone
. He should have been used to it. Hell, he should have
like it. But instead, it bothered him.

"You need something to do during these
little trailside workshop sessions?" he asked, eyes narrowed.

The three men nodded. From the sidelines,
Jayne glared—probably at his use of the word "little" to describe
her techniques. He wished he hadn't, but it was too late now. He'd
do better next time.

"I'll give you something to do," Riley told
them. "From now on, when Jayne's conducting workshops from her
best-selling book
—"
Ha!
said the raised eyebrow he
offered her.

She smiled, happier.

"—we'll be...we'll be..." He searched for a
big finale. "Conducting workshops of our own!"

What?
Had that actually come out of
his
mouth?

Immediately, everyone started talking. Riley
stood amid the murmurs, hands defiantly on his hips. He faced them
all down. Sure, he'd come up with the idea under pressure. But now
that it was out there...hey, it wasn't half bad.

"Counter-workshops," he explained further,
speaking to be heard above the gradually-quieting chatter.
"
Male
workshops. Designed with the, uh, male perspective in
mind."

He drew a breath and smiled, feeling better
already. Sure. This could work. Why not?

This time, it was Jayne's turn to scoff.
"You're an amateur. You don't even know what you're doing."

"I'll learn as I go."

They all stared at him—the women dubiously,
the men warily.

"It'll be fun. Like bungee jumping. Or white
water rafting."

Mack, Bruce, and Lance relaxed. The women's
mouths gaped even wider.

Riley rubbed his hands together, feeling
almost cheerful about this new way to pass the time while Jayne
worked her magic. A few goofy, macho workshops...sure. What could
possibly go wrong?

Alexis shook her head. "It'll never work,
Uncle Riley. You're
way
too much of a loner to lead
workshops."

Silence fell. He glanced at her, stricken.
Okay, so maybe he spent a lot of time alone. That didn't make him a
loner. He just...wasn't comfortable around a lot of people. That
didn't mean he couldn't lead workshops, if he wanted to. And
yet...

Maybe she's right
, a tiny voice
whispered inside him. He'd spent so long on the outside. So long
trusting movement instead of stability, believing in distance
instead of closeness.

No
, Riley told himself. What did
Alexis know, anyway? The poor kid's idea of closeness was a
five-minute call to her phone-challenged divorced mother.

Yours used to be plastering your suitcase
with travel decals identical to your parents'
, that voice
prodded.
So they'd remember you belonged with them each time you
moved
.

Riley shook off the memories. "I can do it,"
he said. "You'll see. Now let's hit the trail."

He signaled for everyone to put on their
shoes or boots and load up their gear. "We've got miles to go
before tonight's big camp out."

Chapter Ten

Riley hadn't been kidding
, Jayne
realized right about the time her leg muscles began twitching to an
involuntary hip-hop beat.
He actually meant for them to hike
several actual
miles
before camping for the night
.

They'd stopped around noon for
lunch—sandwiches and juice eaten amid even craggier rocks than had
set the scene for her first workshop. Then they'd continued onward,
their groups in the same lead-middle-rear order—this time, with
Alexis joining Jayne and Riley and Kelly.

For most of the day, Jayne had actually felt
pretty good about things; increasingly confident in her ability to
handle the hike and to be a good role model for her breakup-ees.
Now that it had begun, their adventure felt easier than she'd
expected. It turned out, to her relief, that she possessed stamina
she hadn't even known about. She could hike for hours!

In gratitude, Jayne blessed the spinning,
kickboxing, and power yoga classes she'd taken for years at the
gym. She vowed to kiss her treadmill when she returned to
civilization. She smugly informed Riley that maybe she
wasn't
in such bad shape, after all.

But then the afternoon struck. And with it
came her usual energy drag—the one Jayne typically combated with a
Caramel Frappuccino and a flip through the latest In Style
magazine. Out here in the dust and the cactus and the boulders, a
nice relaxing Starbucks break wasn't so easy to come by.

To make matters worse, it was her turn to
navigate. Craving caffeine, Jayne stopped in the shadow of a rock
overhang and squinted at the scenery around them.

"Need help reading the topo?" Riley asked,
stopping beside her.

His presence immediately sparked up
something inside her. Something fizzy and feminine and better left
ignored. It only got worse when he unfastened his pack straps,
pulled off his Polarfleece, and edged nearer wearing only a
close-fitting white crewneck with his trail pants. Eyeballing his
muscles, that old "Wow, have you been working out?" line came to
mind—except Jayne knew Riley's muscles were the real thing. The
result of strenuous activity and wilderness training.

"No, I don't need help reading the topo."
She frowned. Turned around the topographical map, which
may
have been upside down. It was hard to tell, with all those
squiggles. "I'm doing fine, thanks. How's Alexis?"

"Better, now that she's blackmailed me into
keeping her on the trip. She threatened to tell Gwen the 'orgy
story' if I made her go back to the lodge."

Jayne smiled. She didn't believe for a
second that blackmail was the reason Riley had let his niece stay
with them. She'd seen the look on his face when Alexis had asked to
stay—and the affection in his eyes when he'd watched her open her
new leopard-print compact. No matter how hard he sometimes seemed,
Riley was a real softie at heart.

Of course, he'd sooner chew Timberlands than
admit it, she was sure.

"How's Kelly?" she asked, giving the map a
quarter turn.

"Taking a nature break. I told her this
might be a good time, since you might be a while reading that
map."

Jayne made a face. She still hadn't
reconciled herself to the idea of a "ladies' room" that contained
dirt, rocks, and scrub brush instead of vanities, mirrors, and
liquid pink soap.

"Well, I won't be
that
long," she
told him, peering at her compass. She looked up. "The trail we want
is that way."

She pointed. He looked. She watched his face
carefully, but couldn't tell from his expression whether she was
within ten miles of the right trail.

She bit her lip. Pointed in another
direction. "I mean, that way."

Riley looked again, his expression
inscrutable. "Sure?"

Heck, no. Help me!
But she'd never
accepted help from the other men in her life—her father and three
bossy brothers, in particular. Not if she could, well,
help
it. She wasn't about to start now. She could do it. She'd navigated
all the breakup-ees to downtown Sedona shopping, hadn't she?

"Of course," she said. "That's the
path."

"Okay, then." He strapped on his pack again,
then made a show of double-checking the fit of hers. His hands
whisked over her shoulders, her arms, her waist; they curled around
her chest straps and checked for snugness. "Let's go wait for
Kelly."

He moved away, taking with him the warmth of
his touch. Jayne felt as though she'd been flirtatiously
frisked...and then denied the promise of a rousing strip search to
follow. She didn't
want
to want Riley to continue.

But she did, all the same.

Ahead Riley paused beside Alexis, at the
junction of the trail Jayne—as navigator—had chosen. In this part
of the wilderness area, various hiking paths crisscrossed each
other randomly. They intersected, ran parallel to each other, went
their own way, and veered into the distance, only to meet up again
later. The scenery was no help in getting oriented, either. To
Jayne's Pacific coast eye, everything looked alien and prickly and
desert-y.

Kelly caught up, sheepishly wrapping a
gardening trowel in plastic and stuffing it into her pack. Jayne
shuddered. Suddenly, she longed for a posh powder room with a
comfortable antiseptic commode and a jumbo roll of squeezable
Charmin. But no mirror. She didn't want to contemplate what she
looked like until she was in a position to repair the damage.

However, she told herself, when the going
got tough, the tough...put on some lip gloss and soldiered on.
Jayne applied some cranberry crush, flipped her hair over her
shoulders, and rejoined the group. They trouped onward, buddied up
in pairs, occasionally switching conversational partners. It was
almost fun at times. Like a moving slumber party, minus the popcorn
and the Clooney-vision...and plus the male perspective.

Reminded of Riley's vow to conduct male
perspective workshops concurrent with hers along the trail, Jayne
shook her head. She couldn't imagine what kinds of things he,
Bruce, Lance, and Mack would come up with. Better Bonding Through
Beer, maybe. Or "I'll Call You" 101. After all, she hadn't
subtitled her book
Getting Over The Good-Bye Guys
for
nothing.

Eventually, she glimpsed a group of four
hikers traveling toward them in the opposite direction. Using her
new knowledge of trail etiquette (and feeling oddly proud of it),
Jayne moved to the side to let them pass. So did Riley, Kelly, and
Alexis.

"Hey, fancy meeting you here!" At the head
of the group, Mack approached, trailed by Lance, Doris, and Donna.
As usual, he looked positively merry—if a little confused. "How
come you're going the wrong way?"