Reconsidering Riley

by Lisa Plumley

  “Isn’t that the best?” Alexis gushed, grabbing Uncle Riley’s arm. “I love the ‘diva-in-training’ part, don’t you? Jayne so understands what it’s like to be a woman. She is like, my favorite person in the whole wide world right now!”

  Uncle Riley frowned. He handed back the book.

  His grouchy attitude was way beyond her. Then she realized. “Oh! Except you, Uncle Riley. You’re my standing favorite person. Unreplaceable.”

  “Irreplaceable.”

  “That too.” She put away the book and zipped her pack shut. “Really. Aside from you, the only other person I’ve ever talked to like this was Brendan, and he—”

  Too late, Alexis realized she’d opened her big fat mouth and nearly spilled everything. She shoved her arms through her pack’s straps and slung it onto her back. Maybe if she pretended she’d never spoken…

  “And he…?”

  Rats. So much for pretending. “Nothing.”

  Uncle Riley raised his eyebrows. “Who’s Brendan?”

  She ground the toe of her Skechers in a rocky crevice, and shook her head.

  He tried a leading comment. “If the little creep did anything besides hold your hand, I’ll break his nose.”

  She snorted.

  Uncle Riley cracked his knuckles. “And then I’ll break whatever he touched you with.”

  Alexis envisioned that jerk Brendan begging big, tough Uncle Riley for mercy. A small smile edged onto her face.

  “You don’t have to do that.” She sighed. “Brendan wouldn’t touch me with a ten-foot pole. Notanymore.”

  He leaned nearer. “What’s that?”

  Not anymore. No, she couldn’t say that again. Then she’d have to spill her guts about the Cinnabon incident. She might even cry. Alexis couldn’t risk crying in front of Uncle Riley. As understanding as he could be, she had a feeling crying would be pushing it. A guy like him might not understand, having never experienced the urge to curl up in a ball and sob, himself. He never let anything get to him.

  Heck, he’d even sounded okay while telling her how he didn’t believe in cozy, close-knit relationships. If that wasn’t diehard macho, she didn’t know what was.

  “Nothing,” she mumbled, and stood. “I’d better get back. See you around.”

  He examined her face. Nodded. “Okay. Thanks for the company.”

  Alexis gave a little wave. She began climbing back down the rocky slope. Halfway through her descent, her backpack slipped. She paused to adjust it, then glanced upward.

  Uncle Riley sat alone on his rock, forearms resting loosely on his bent thighs. He tilted his head at a thoughtful angle. A sad angle, even. While she watched, he raised his face to the breeze, eyes closed. Something about his expression, when the sunlight hit it, made her hesitate.

  He looked almost…lonely. As though he needed her. Or needed someone, at least. Drawn to him, but knowing that was stupid—after all, Uncle Riley hacked through jungles on photography assignments on a regular basis, so he didn’t need anyone—Alexis watched for a moment longer.

  Then the sound of car doors slamming reached her, followed by feminine voices. It had to be Jayne and the other ladies, back from shopping! Her head filled with thoughts of seeing whatever they’d bought, Alexis turned again and headed toward the lodge.

  Her Uncle Riley would be fine, she told herself. He always was and he always would be.

  Jayne sat on the floor of the Hideaway Lodge’s common area, dressed in her favorite baby blue pajamas. Although tomorrow she faced a grueling wilderness test unlike anything she’d ever experienced, tonight she had all the essentials to fortify her.

  She had newfound friends nearby. A bowl of microwave popcorn on her lap, for sharing with those friends. And a veritable film fest of special edition DVD movies starring the swoony George Clooney. Did it get any better than this?

  Well, sure, she thought. Not having to face potential survival issues tomorrow without so much as the solace of a Lean Cuisine nearby would have made things much better. But aside from that, she was feeling pretty good.

  Of course, Riley’s reaction to her “coming out” as a self-help guru had put a crimp in her day earlier…but she wouldn’t think about that now.

  Carla, who’d been manning the hot cocoa station, nudged her. “Jayne, it’s your turn. Truth or dare.”

  “Ummm, truth.”

  “Okay.” Mitzi, the game’s unofficial leader, leaned nearer. The movement made lamplight dance off the glittery silver stars hand-painted on her knee-length sleep shirt. “Which would you rather do…try on bikinis in a communal dressing room, or ask a man out on a first date?”

  “Ooooh.” The women huddled nearer, Kelly and Carla both dressed in flannel men’s-style pajamas with fuzzy slippers. They awaited her answer.

  “The date,” Jayne said decisively. “Potential rejection pales compared with public cellulite exposure. Besides, asking a man out on a date is a fairly low-risk activity.”

  They disagreed, passing around the popcorn bowl. On the TV in the corner, George delivered a dazzling smile.

  “It’s true!” She raised her hands to quiet the hubbub. “The average man isn’t going to turn you down. Provided you don’t make your move while he has a Pamela Anderson Lee clone on his arm, of course.”

  There was a general outcry about “Baywatch,” breast implants, and hooter-induced male motor function impairment.

  “I know, I know. Some men can’t seem to simultaneously blink, walk, and avoid drooling when confronted with a bodacious blonde. But really—”

  “My Paolo was like that!” Carla interrupted. “If you got him within fifty feet of a pair of breasts, his brain like, shut down. I swear, the guy couldn’t ogle and chew gum at the same time. It was like, ‘breast alert! breast alert!’ Completely overloaded his circuits or something.”

  Heads nodded all around.

  Jayne smiled. “Well, sometimes the breasts were yours, Carla. And I’ll bet you enjoyed his interest in them.”

  With a grudging wrinkle of her ring-studded nose, Carla agreed. “I guess so. At least until Paolo’s commitment phobia set in, we broke up, and he started dating a different sorority girl every few days. Then it was like, Greek Of The Week club. Ugh.”

  Making a face, she passed two mugs of cocoa to Doris and Donna. The sisters were attired in coordinating velour track suits—having refused to appear “in public” wearing actual pajamas.

  Jayne grinned. “To get back to what I was saying…men have their pluses, too. Let’s not forget that.”

  “Their ‘pluses?’” Doris hooted. “Never heard ‘em called that before. ‘Zip it up, hon. Your ‘plus’ is showing.’”

  Donna winked. “Almost gives me an interest in math.”

  Jayne smiled, wondering if the sisters realized they’d nearly agreed on something. “For instance,” she said, bypassing their more ribald slant on things, “who else would squish bugs for us?”

  Murmuring, the women nodded.

  “Warm up the chilly side of the bed for us?”

  Nods.

  “Carry our heavy suitcases?”

  Scattered nods.

  “Sleep in the wet spot?”

  Boggle.

  “Your guy does that?” Mitzi asked.

  “In the wet spot?” Carla clarified.

  “No way,” Kelly said.

  Jayne thought back to her last real relationship. Yes, Riley had actually been willing to….

  “That’s beside the point,” she said hastily. “The point is, we’re here to get over men—particular men—but not to bash all men in general. Let’s remember that.”

  Reluctantly, they agreed. The game continued, with Jayne’s turn.

  “Mitzi, truth or dare?” she asked.

  “Truth.”

  “How long has it been since you’ve thought about your ex?”

  “Two days.”

  “Truth!” the other women yelled.

  Sheepishly, Mitzi hugged her knees. “Okay, okay
. I think about Rodney all the time. He left me for another waitress at the restaurant where I work, you know. It’s been pretty hard to take.”

  Jayne knee-walked over to Mitzi’s spot in front of the weathered leather sofa. She gave her a hug. “You’ll be strong when all this is over with. Just coming here makes you stronger.” She spread her arms wide. “And that goes for all of you!”

  They cheered. The game went on. Donna accepted a dare—nibbling three pieces of non-Atkins-approved popcorn. Doris accepted a truth, and revealed the simultaneous relationships she and her sister had unknowingly been having with Marty, the handyman at their senior center…plus the messy breakup that had ensued when they’d discovered their unwitting man-share.

  “Since there are more women than men at our age,” Doris explained, “Marty seemed to think it was his masculine duty to ‘service’ as many girlfriends as possible.”

  Indignant outbursts were heard. Donna growled, and grabbed another handful of popcorn.

  They took a break to switch movies at Clooney Central, then went on. The next to take a turn was Kelly, who mumbled and twisted the hem of her PJs while deliberating her choice, then stunned them all by announcing, “Dare.”

  “Okay,” Carla said. “I dare you to…insult me.”

  Kelly hesitated. She peered through her dark bangs at Carla, then glanced around the room before ducking her head again. She drew a deep breath.

  “Ummm…”

  “Go on,” Carla urged.

  “Well…okay. I guess…the cocoa you made had too many marshmallows in it?”

  Donna smacked her forehead. Doris rolled her eyes.

  “Come on, Kelly. Really hit me. Insult me!”

  Kelly looked confused. “Why would I…?”

  “It’s a dare, silly,” Mitzi said. “Just to see if you’ll do it. We dare you.”

  Uncle! Kelly’s panicky expression said. I give up!

  “Truth!” she blurted. “Truth!”

  Jayne stepped in, giving a reassuring smile to her most timid breakup-ee. “Okay, truth. Why did you come to the workshop, Kelly? You’re the only one who hasn’t told us about your ex.”

  A hush fell over the women. Bathed in the glow of flickering Clooney-vision, they waited to hear Kelly’s answer. Even the popcorn came to a rest, on the floor near Jayne’s baby blue plush platform slippers.

  Kelly hugged a pillow to her middle. She glanced up. “I was having a torrid affair with a married man,” she admitted.

  Everyone gasped. Sweet, shy Kelly? A home wrecker?

  “I didn’t know he was married until a few months ago. And the way I found out…oh, it’s too embarrassing!”

  She buried her face in her hands. Jayne went to her and hugged her, too. “You don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to. Not now.”

  “No. No, I want to.” Sniffing, Kelly raised her head. “We were having a long weekend in one of Seattle nicest hotels. We…couldn’t keep our hands off each other. And just when Tim took off his shirt so we could, you know—”

  Everyone nodded, listening raptly.

  “—well, that was when I saw it.”

  “‘It?’ It what? What was it?” Mitzi asked.

  Kelly shook her head. “Someone had written on his back. With a permanent marker, I guess. Tim’s a very sound sleeper, so that’s probably how it happened without him knowing it, and—”

  “What did it say?” the women shouted.

  “Oh. It said, ‘Property of’—” Here, Kelly paused. “Well, to protect her identity, ‘Property of Mrs. Tim. Hands off!”

  They all gasped. “And that’s how you found out he was married?” Carla asked. She stared. “His wife, like, booby-trapped him for you?”

  Miserably, Kelly nodded. Jayne squeezed her hand.

  “That’s devious,” Mitzi said.

  “Very sneaky,” Donna agreed.

  “I’m going to have to remember that,” Doris announced, with a pointed look at her sister.

  “Terrible.” Carla handed over a second cup of cocoa to soothe Kelly’s nerves. “And that’s when he dumped you? When you found his wife’s lost-and-found message?”

  “No,” Kelly said. “That’s not when he dumped me.”

  Everyone commiserated. “Well, we’ve all been in relationships that went on too long,” Jayne said, “relationships we allowed to carry on until—”

  “That’s when I dumped him!”

  Stunned silence fell. Kelly blushed.

  Then, they all cheered. “Yay, Kelly!” everyone shouted, united in respect for her gutsy move. Carla pumped her fist, Mitzi shared celebratory pieces of Bazooka, Doris and Donna choose a new DVD, and Jayne gave Kelly another hug plus all the kudos she deserved for standing up for herself.

  They were six women dressed in comfy clothes, fortified by the remains of a cocoa-and-popcorn feast, and entertained by the ever-present gorgeous-George-ness of ClooneyTV. They were sharing, growing stronger, and preparing themselves for the days ahead. After this, Jayne realized, none of them would ever be the same again.

  Wilderness, watch out!

  Naturally enough, that was when the men arrived on the scene…and changed everything.

  Chapter Seven

  Riley paused in the doorway of the lodge’s common room. He’d come here to introduce the other guides to the women in Jayne’s group, but now…seeing the mayhem before him…well, he wasn’t too proud to admit he considered getting the hell out of there and breaking out the brewskis with the guys instead.

  Unfortunately, his fellow guide Bruce made the decision for all of them. One minute, he was standing there placidly beside Riley, Mack, and Bruce’s fifteen-year-old cousin Lance. The next, he was taking his big blonde lumberjack-type self straight into the group of women.

  “It’s a smorgasbord!” he announced gleefully, gazing from one surprised female to the next. “A buffet of women! I know you said you had a group here, Riley, but this…this is an unexpected treat.”

  Bruce strode further into the room, rubbing his hands together with undisguised eagerness. “Hell-lo, ladies!”

  The women responded mostly with raised eyebrows. Riley couldn’t say he blamed them. Although he couldn’t help but notice, Mitzi seemed intrigued. She actually smiled at the big lug.

  “He’s harmless, really,” Riley told them, slapping Bruce on the back. “Out here in the wilderness…well, Bruce doesn’t see much action. If you know what I mean.”

  “Hey!”

  “And this is Bruce’s cousin.” He urged Lance forward. The boy came, all gangly arms and legs, selfconsciously gelled hair, and overly logo-ed clothes. “As long as no one objects, Lance here will be coming along on our trip.”

  “Hi, Lance!” the women said, welcoming him with smiles and waves.

  “Lance’s parents took a cruise to Alaska, and left Bruce in charge of the poor kid.” Riley grinned. “I figure he’ll need some positive influences while they’re gone.”

  Oblivious to the teasing, Bruce nodded. He winked at Mitzi, mouthing something to her. She blushed.

  “And this is Mack.” Riley encouraged the final guide to come forward. “He comes to you with fifteen years’ guide experience, an unfailing knowledge of the Arizona high country—”

  “And cookies.” Mack held up a bag in each hand.

  “Oreos!” all the women cheered. “Yay!”

  They descended on a flustered Mack, chattering and sharing and munching. They took Lance beneath their collective feminine wings, encouraging the boy to join in the fun and making him feel welcome. They even included Bruce, despite his uncouth entrance, and endured his attempts to “chat them up.”

  Bruce was an excellent and trustworthy guide, Riley knew, having taken out several adventure travel groups with the man. But his social skills…well, they needed work. Bruce tended to say exactly what he thought at any given moment. His idea of small talk was, “Your place or mine, baby?” And he made no efforts to control his ogle reflex, no matter who noticed. Bruce
claimed this made him “all man.” Riley figured it made him impulse control challenged.

  Mack was another story. Red-haired, thoughtful, and relentlessly cheerful, Mack was like a sitcom sidekick come to life. Nothing ever got him down…but he never seemed to get very much screen time, either. Riley had a suspicion Mack’s “very special episode” was still in his future.

  “Hey, Riley! Come join the fun,” Bruce called. He spread his arms wide. “I can’t handle all these babes by myself.”

  Grinning, Riley entered the cluster of women. Someone handed him a cookie. He decided to settle in.

  The plan tonight was simply to let everyone get acquainted, since the group would respond better to guides they knew and trusted. The guides, in turn, would have a better understanding of the techniques to use with their group members if they knew the women personally. Satisfied that everything was satisfactorily underway, he choose a seat on the leather sofa to watch the proceedings.

  An Oreo-munching Jayne sat down beside him.

  “Glad to see you,” she said breezily, sending a gentle waft of her perfume his way. “After the way you left this afternoon, I started to think you might not come back.”

  “Of course I came back. I have a responsibility here.”

  She seemed to consider this. “So do I. These women are depending on me, Riley. I won’t let you mess things up for me.”

  “I don’t plan to.”

  “Good.”

  “Good!”

  Well. That was that. The sounds of socializing swirled around them, punctuated with laughter and the occasional risqué punch line from Bruce. Riley and Jayne sat stiffly, their apparent truce having affected nothing.

  He glanced at her. In her soft oversize pajamas she seemed fragile. Vulnerable, even. His heart softened.

  Riley was tempted to hug her, to cheer her, to make things easier for her somehow. But he refused to give in to the feeling. Everything was different now—now that he knew what Jayne was really here for. Knowing she was leading the anti-heartbreak agenda put an entirely new spin on his plans to show her how decent a man could be. He felt stupid for having thought up the idea in the first place. And he couldn’t help but wonder…