Reconsidering Riley (21 page)

Riley did. Intensely interested, he lowered
to a hunk of rock behind the tent Jayne and Alexis occupied.

"Sure, I do!" his niece said. "Come on,
spill."

"Well..."

Jayne's hesitant voice betrayed pain she was
reluctant to speak of. It made him ache to comfort her. To tell her
he
thought she was beautiful, inside and out. To erase
whatever indifference her family had hurt her with. But he
couldn't. Not now. Not until he knew the whole story.

He'd met her gruff father and three brothers
while in San Francisco—for brunch, a Giants game, and an
ill-advised just-us-men trip to Hooters (there was nothing more
awkward, Riley had discovered, than watching your current fling's
father ogle a busty waitress). But his interactions with Jayne's
family had been brief, relatively impersonal, or both. He didn't
really know much about them...or about Jayne's relationship with
them.

He'd left before things had gotten that
far.

Now, he listened.

"I grew up in a house full of men," Jayne
said. "The toilet seat was always raised, 'the game' was always on
TV, and the closest anybody ever came to being affectionate was
high-fiving each other after a touchdown. My dad wasn't cold—don't
get me wrong—he was just...clueless. He had no idea how to raise a
girl. Especially one like me."

"One like you?"

A wistful sigh. "One who begged for a baby
blue bedroom. One who worshipped every cartoon princess, who
outfitted Barbie from head to toe, who considered slumber parties a
weekend necessity. I'm afraid I was always a girly-girl. In my
family I couldn't have been more of a square peg in a round
hole."

"They should have thought you were unique,
then," Alexis insisted. "
Extra special
."

Riley recognized Gwen's philosophy in that
statement, and felt proud of Alexis. His grandmother had her
old-fashioned moments, but she knew what was important. Apparently,
she'd passed that knowledge on to her great-granddaughter, too.

"Extra special?" Jayne repeated. There was
amusement in her voice...amusement covering something else,
something like longstanding hurt. "That's what I'd always hoped, I
guess. It didn't quite turn out that way. But by the time I
discovered that, it was too late. I was hooked on beauty products.
Hot for hairspray. Bananas for bath accessories. I couldn't
quit."

At her attempt to lighten the conversation,
to turn it away from her disappointing past to the moment at hand,
Riley felt a wave of tenderness. Jayne might have been hurt.
Had
been hurt. But she wasn't bitter, and she didn't blame
anyone for that hurt. Instead, she bravely moved on, being the only
kind of woman she knew how to be.

"Well, I'm
glad
you couldn't quit,"
Alexis said, evidently wise enough to realize when a sad moment
needed glossing over. "So is my baby unibrow. And so are all your
workshop women. They're looking better every day." There was a
shuffle against the tent floor. "
Prrriimp
!" she
mimicked.

They both laughed.

"The only thing more important than looking
good and feeling good is having good friends," Jayne said.
"Remember that, okay? Because being alone—being lonely—is just
about the worst thing there is."

A solemn silence fell. Riley imagined Alexis
nodding, her brows puffy but well-groomed. He imagined Jayne giving
his niece an affectionate hug, the two women bonded forever in
familial misery and tweezer trauma. More than likely, Alexis shared
Jayne's dread of being alone, having experienced it more than a
thirteen-year-old ought to have since her parents' divorce.

"I'll bet
you're
hardly ever alone,"
Alexis said after another murmured
ouch
. "You have tons of
friends."

"I'm alone sometimes," Jayne confided. "It's
hard."

She'd been alone after her bozo
ex-boyfriend bailed
, Riley thought.
Alone, and hurting
.
Silently, he cursed the jerk who'd left Jayne lonely. His
determination to make up for that loser's shortcomings grew twice
as strong.

Then a terrible thought occurred to him,
blotting out the rest of Jayne and Alexis's conversation. Had
Riley
left Jayne alone and hurting, too?

He'd always believed theirs had been a
casual affair, steamy and sexy and filled with good times. He'd
always believed she'd viewed their relationship the same way he
had—temporary and enjoyable. What if, Riley wondered for the first
time, she hadn't? What if Jayne had wanted more?

Shaken by the question, he stood. His
fingers trembled on the packet of towelettes. After one last glance
toward Jayne's tent, Riley made himself start moving. He could
deliver the towelettes to her any time. Right now, he felt an
overpowering urge to do something else. Anything else.

Anything that didn't involve staying still.
Wondering. Or feeling the confusion that coursed through him like
river water past a kayak's smooth hull.

What if Jayne had wanted more
?

He needed to move, that was all. His only
mistake had been staying and eavesdropping on something that was
none of his business in the first place. Determinedly, Riley tossed
the towelettes into his tent as he passed and then just kept going.
There were plans to be made, equipment checks to be performed. The
sooner he got this group to the canyon lodge—where rendezvous Jeeps
were scheduled to return everyone to the main Hideaway Lodge—the
sooner this trip would be over with.

The sooner he could head on to Antigua, and
return to the life he understood.

Chapter Thirteen

The wilderness was out to get her.

So was this trip.

Jayne came to those conclusions naturally
enough, after a morning filled with one calamity after another.
First, there'd been no pancakes. Or waffles. Or even corn flakes.
Instead, for breakfast there'd been gluey reconstituted oatmeal,
coffee made with treated water, and dried apple slices. Not even
pretending she was eating muesli at an exclusive Swiss spa had been
enough to convince Jayne the stuff was palatable. And this, after
having earned a real, honest-to-God
splurge
with all that
hiking? It was some kind of cruel outdoorsy joke. Her thighs might
have appreciated it, but she did
not
.

Second, there'd been the guide switch. Riley
had announced that the hiking groups would be shuffled—this time,
he would lead Doris, Donna, and Lance. Mack would lead Kelly,
Alexis, and Mitzi. And Bruce (with his double entendres and
cheerful ribaldry) would lead Carla and Jayne. That might not have
been so bad in itself...except Bruce seemed determined to set a
land-speed record for distance hiking. He wouldn't settle for
anything less than the equivalent of a level eight on Jayne's
health club treadmill.

Then there were the bugs, the bug bites, the
dirt, the constant incline, her sore, overworked muscles...clearly
this whole scheme was insane. She was trying to make the best of
it. Honestly. But if not for the necessity of researching her
techniques' effectiveness for her anti-heartbreak workbook, Jayne
would have turned around and used her last remaining energy to hike
back to civilization where she belonged.

However, if her group re-entered
civilization now, it could be disastrous. Civilization meant her
breakup-ees would have easy access to their exes—
and
to
resolve-destroying "our place" drive-bys, "our song" replays, and
"our past" remembrance wallows. For the sake of all the women in
her care, she had to carry on.

Dreaming of gardenia-scented body powder,
she trudged onward in Bruce and Carla's wake. Longing to test the
effectiveness of her peppermint tranquility bath set with a good
scrub down, she navigated past the increasingly tall pines and
twisty oaks. Craving a movie, a shopping spree, a research trip
that
didn't
require getting slapped in the face with
evergreen boughs and tripping over half-buried fallen trees, Jayne
kept going.

She hadn't had time to do anything more with
her hair beyond a basic ponytail. She hadn't had the resources to
put together more than a rudimentary, mostly-baby-blue hiking
ensemble, and today wore soft track pants, a camisole with a fleece
top, and her ATSes. Her makeup consisted of mascara, an all-in-one
emergency color stick, and lip gloss. This was probably the worst
she'd looked since emerging from awkward teenagerdom, and Riley was
partly to blame for it.

He'd appeared suddenly at the campsite after
a mysterious absence, his expression rough and his eyes evasive.
Gone had been the teasingly seductive man she'd flounced away from
after their morning conversation. In his place had been a brisk and
professional guide...a stranger. He'd announced his plans for the
day's hike, asked everyone to be ready to leave in ten minutes, and
then had stonily spent their remaining time helping the women pack
up.

He hadn't helped Jayne. Instead, he'd
avoided her. She didn't know why. She'd caught him watching her
once, a speculative tilt to his head. Upon noticing she'd noticed,
though, he'd instantly averted his gaze, his face tightening.

She should have been relieved. Glad, even.
If Riley kept his distance, avoiding the temptation of rekindling
their relationship would be that much easier. Even so, Jayne wasn't
relieved. She was concerned, and distracted, and even a little
disappointed. It seemed a part of her had
enjoyed
wrangling
with him, had looked forward to testing her resist-the-hunk skills
against Riley's disarming smile, merry eyes, and undeniable
charisma.

She probably just missed the challenge,
Jayne told herself. She detected the sound of running water nearby
and cocked her head to listen more closely. She missed proving to
herself that she could resist Riley. It had been good for her
self-confidence to resist him, a balm to her pride to confront him
and sometimes emerge the victor. Sure, that was it.

Right
.
And wedgies would be back
in style any minute now
.

They came to a bank overgrown with tall
grasses, studded with wildflowers. It sloped sharply downward to a
stream-fed pool of clear water, the source of the sound she'd
heard. Just above it, Bruce and Carla paused.

"Time for fishing!" her guide said.

Fishing
. Great. Belatedly, Jayne
remembered Riley saying something about hiking, fishing, and
getting deeper into nature today. Probably, she'd blocked out the
memory.

Unfortunately, she'd also forgotten her
gummy worms.

She glanced around the perimeter of the
water. The other groups had stopped too. The other guides—like
Bruce—efficiently unpacked the fishing gear. They assembled rods
with practiced motions, set out bait, surveyed the lazily swirling
water with eyes that probably saw more than a postcard-perfect
view.

And it
was
perfect, Jayne realized.
Serene and bucolic, with sunshine splashing over the water and
leaves rustling in the breeze. She could almost begin
to...appreciate this. Grudgingly, Jayne forgave Mother Nature for
the potty ambush she'd suffered this morning (after having
forgotten to pee downhill), and sat on the bank to watch the
action.

A few yards away, Doris and Donna stood
beside Riley and Lance, arguing in low voices about something Jayne
couldn't make out. The sisters had vowed before hitting the trail
this morning to make life difficult for their new guide, and none
of Jayne's protestations had changed their minds. Driven by loyalty
to their anti-heartbreak coach, the two women seemed determined to
punish Riley for what they saw as his months-old abandonment of
Jayne.

She didn't approve. But she did understand.
And a teeny tiny part of her appreciated the thought behind Doris
and Donna's plan, too. Misguided as it was, her breakup-ees
faithfulness made Jayne feel she'd truly forged new friendships
here. There was no
way
Riley would get past those two. Not
when they had mayhem on their minds.

Of course, Riley had changed Kelly's mind
about him pretty quickly, she remembered.
I'm glad to be part of
your group
, Kelly had said shyly yesterday.
Thanks, Riley.
You're really understanding
.

Well, that didn't mean he could work similar
magic on Doris and Donna. Those two were determined, their fidelity
unshakable.

"Come on down, Jayne." Bruce waved his arm,
indicating the fishing pole and bait he'd set out beside Carla's.
"Time to catch some lunch."

She shuddered, but gamely made her way down
the rock- and grass-studded slope. The rushing water grew louder. A
fresh fragrance rose from the banks, tinged with a hint of mossy
green. Bruce explained that the plan was to catch some fish, then
the guides would clean them while Jayne conducted her next
anti-heartbreak workshop. Afterward, they'd all enjoy grilled fish
for lunch, and head on their way.

Within no time, Jayne was gripping a pole.
She dangled her line in the pool of water, watching skeptically as
the bait Bruce had hooked for her eddied in the current. Some poor
fish was about to have the shock of its life. And it would be all
her fault. Poor fish. She enjoyed a tasty plate of sea bass with
miso glaze as much as the next girl, but this...well, it was too
much.

She yanked her pole from the water.

Suddenly, Riley was right beside her.
"Problem?"

"Yes. I just became a vegetarian."

"Anything to do with that fishing pole in
your hands?"

"Of course! How can I dupe some poor fish
into snacking on my bait and then...and then..."

"Club it over the head and eat it?"

Jayne felt her eyes widen. "Do you really
do
that?"