by Lisa Plumley
Dreamy? His heart softened. He wanted Jayne to feel dreamy, wanted her to… Hang on. He was getting sidetracked.
“It must be the mall deprivation, making you loony,” he told Alexis firmly. “You’re imagining things.”
“Oh, yeah? Did I imagine the goo-goo eyed look you were giving Jayne when I got here? Huh? Huh?”
Riley shoved a hand through his hair. Hell. All of a sudden, this was looking like a very long trip. Still prodding—literally now—Alexis jabbed him in the shoulder.
“Huh? Huh? Huh?”
“I have a workshop to get ready for,” he told her with dignity, raising his jaw. Then he strode away before he could get himself into even more trouble.
Alexis sat on a bunch of logs with the other women that afternoon, waiting for the next anti-heartbreak workshop to begin. Beside her, Carla, Kelly, Mitzi, Doris, and Donna all held the hairbrushes Jayne had requested they bring. So did Alexis. She could hardly wait for things to get started. She needed a break. That loser Lance had been following her around the campsite almost from the moment she’d gotten there.
He’d even tried to impress her by showing her some stupid tree branches he’d whittled. As if. Alexis had told him she preferred Jayne’s ribbon-wrapped, polka-dotted (with red nail polish) marshmallow toasting sticks. Which was true. Jayne’s sticks had style. Even Uncle Riley had agreed—once he’d recovered from an inexplicable laughing attack.
But once Jayne’s workshop began, the guys’ workshop would begin, too—which meant Lance would leave her alone for a while. Alexis waited impatiently for Jayne to take her place in the center of their group.
Finally, she did. The breeze tossed her ponytail and the sun glinted off her blonde highlights (Alexis had to get highlights exactly like those, she decided), and from somewhere she’d produced her leopard-print compact. Alexis palmed her identical compact tightly in her non-hairbrush-holding hand. It felt good to be part of the group.
At the camp’s edge, Uncle Riley quietly led Lance, Bruce, and Mack beyond some trees to another nearby clearing. With a knowing nod, Alexis watched him go. His innocent act hadn’t fooled her a bit. She knew darn well neither he nor Jayne had been able to resist her superior matchmaking skills.
At Jayne’s call, they primped. Alexis spent most of her primping time trying to cover a monster zit. Then all the women yelled out, “If you look good, you feel good!” and high-fived each other. The whole thing gave Alexis a warm and fuzzy feeling, sort of like the last five minutes of “7th Heaven.” Only this was better, because this wasn’t TV—it was real.
“This workshop is based on one of my original techniques—shampoo therapy,” Jayne said. “It’s called ‘Really Wash That Man Out Of Your Hair.’”
Everyone hooted and hollered. Alexis did, too. Take that, Brendan!
“Now, since somebody wouldn’t let me bring actual shampoo bottles on the trail,” Jayne continued, shooting a disgruntled frown in the direction the men had gone, “and the bathing facilities here leave so much to be desired—”
“I heard that!” came Uncle Riley’s voice from within the trees.
“—we’re going to have to improvise. I have one container of dry shampoo, and I’m going to share it. What you do is—”
She went on to explain the technique. Before long, the dry shampoo had been passed, the hairbrushes were being wielded, and everyone was muttering the mantra Jayne had given them.
“Get out of my head, Brendan, you weasel,” Alexis said. The scent of cinnamon still gave her twinges of heartbreak-by-association, and she’d had enough. “Get out, get out, get out!”
“Get lost, Marty,” Doris and Donna chanted as they vigorously massaged the dry shampoo through their graying curls.
“You can’t, like, hurt me any more, Paolo,” Carla said, rubbing her scalp.
“I’m over you Rodney,” Mitzi recited. Her gaze drifted to the men’s location. She spotted Bruce in the distance and winked at him, as though proving the technique miraculously effective.
“Bye, bye, Tim,” Kelly said. “You’re no good for me.” Beneath her shampoo-squeezing hands, faint tears rolled down her cheeks. Her voice broke. “Sorry…Mrs. Tim.”
Witnessing Kelly’s heartbreak, Alexis couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. Tim had obviously been a scumbag. She scooted nearer to Kelly and gave her a hug.
“It’ll be okay,” she whispered. “And your hair looks amazing.”
Kelly brightened. “You think so? Thanks!”
Alexis felt better already.
Jayne walked among them, offering encouragement, demonstrations, and effectiveness boosters. “Coming clean” was good for body and soul, she told the breakup-ees.
Jayne looked sad as she said it, Alexis noticed. Almost as though she believed she might never be squeaky clean again. Being on the trail had that effect on some people, but it seemed doubly tough for Jayne. She was a regular bathaholic.
All the same, the author rallied. “Who’s feeling better?” she asked when everyone had finished.
Alexis instantly raised her hand. “Me!”
Mitzi did the same. So did Doris and Donna.
Carla only hung her head, but Kelly sniffled and raised her hand partway.
“Excellent!” Jayne beamed at them. Then she swept a compassionate gaze over Carla and Kelly. “The rest of you, take heart. There are more techniques on the way. I’ll be with you for every step. Remember, I’ve been there. I understand what you’re going through, and I’m here to help.”
Everyone cheered. In the center of the group, Jayne blushed and stared at her shoes. Alexis felt a surge of affection for her so strong it was startling. Yes, she decided, Jayne could definitely become her aunt. Definitely.
She’d be perfect.
And she even came with a bonus makeup kit to share, Alexis reflected. What could be better?
Chapter Fifteen
After her workshop, Jayne found Riley and the other men sitting in a nearby clearing with their backs against several thick-trunked pines. They held out their arms in front of them, palms turned partway up and fingers slightly curled, and gazed determinedly into the distance. Flickers of movement caught her eye. Their thumbs, she realized. Every last man was wiggling his upraised thumb.
She frowned in puzzlement. “Riley?”
“Shhh. I’m conducting a workshop here.”
“A workshop for what?” she whispered.
“Thumb development. I call it the ‘Remote Control Relay.’ Useful for when you need to whip through a hundred and fifty channels while your girlfriend gets another Diet Coke.”
Jayne rolled her eyes. “Unbelievable.”
His smile was boyish. Appealingly boyish. “Thanks.”
He kept his profile toward her, apparently concentrating on his technique. She let her gaze travel over the beard-shadowed edge of his jaw, the assertive line of his nose, the amused quirk in his lips. A sigh nearly escaped her. He’d kissed her with those lips. He’d kissed her, eased her onto the pine needles, trailed his mouth down her neck as he slipped his hands beneath her multitudes of outdoors-wear layers to unerringly cup her breasts. He’d stroked her there, making her dizzy. If she hadn’t remembered the buggy hazards surrounding them, Jayne wasn’t sure what would have happened.
But she was sure she would have enjoyed it.
“I’m considering a ‘Barcalounger-Fridge Beer Dash’ next,” Riley said, breaking into her thoughts. “The guys and I can run up the trail with boulder-sized ‘beer can’ standins in each hand for training.”
She pictured it. “Gee, Riley. The potential usefulness of that…well, I can hardly describe it.”
His grin widened.
“You should think about writing your own book,” Jayne went on mock-seriously, giving him a teasing nod.
“Nah. That would mean staying in one place.” He frowned. “Working on one thing.”
She considered his dual careers as nature photographer and trail guide. Both fit perfectly into his
stay-on-the-move lifestyle. “But you already work hard,” she said, deliberately misunderstanding. “You could do it.”
“Thanks.” Riley swept her with a hasty, grateful glance as he got to his feet. “I appreciate your vote of confidence, but the settled life isn’t for me.”
There was nothing to say to that.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes. If you’re done with your workshop, we’ll head out after that.”
Jayne agreed, wondering what she’d said to cause Riley’s rapid exit. She watched him stride away, his shoulders straight and his movements steady. He nodded at the other guides as he passed them, but didn’t stop to talk. For the first time, it struck her that Riley spent a lot of time away from the group. Alone. On purpose. He isolated himself on purpose.
The very idea was alien to Jayne, who did everything she could to avoid feeling as lonely and out of place as she had while growing up. It wasn’t as though Riley was unpopular with the other adventure travelers or guides—on the contrary. Bruce and Mack, for instance, obviously liked and respected him. So what, she wondered, was the rest of the story?
Curious now, Jayne resolved to find out. And she knew exactly how to begin.
That evening, Riley hunkered down beside Mitzi’s Coleman-fueled camp stove, watching the frizzy-haired waitress maneuver its fold-out supports into position. Performing the steps he’d shown her, she connected the fuel line. She struck a match. In the center of the stove’s supports, a tiny blue flame burst into life.
“I did it!” she cried. Exuberantly, she hugged him. Bubblegum popped in his ear. “Thank you so much!”
“You’re welcome.”
“And after only six tries this time, too. I swear, I thought you might give up on me after that whole water purifying mix-up—”
Riley remembered his struggles to explain the filtering process to Mitzi, after Bruce had gotten too frustrated to go on. With an effort, he kept the smile on his face so her feelings wouldn’t be hurt.
“—but you didn’t. You’re the greatest, Riley!”
Her hug tightened. Tentatively, he patted one hand on her back. Then he leaned away quickly, feeling awkward but pleased to have helped. Adventure travelers needed to trust their guides—and he’d detected some serious antagonism coming from a few of the group members. Now, Riley was making progress with them.
Mitzi, for instance, beamed at him.
A muffled “hmmph,” came from nearby.
He turned his head. The only person close enough to have spoken that loudly was Jayne, who sat on a folded tarp beside her own camp stove, looking mildly betrayed. She caught him watching her and went back to waiting for the water to boil for her instant macaroni and cheese.
The vaguely disgruntled pucker of her lips remained, though. Riley wondered at its cause.
“How are things coming along for you?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow. “Need any help?”
She lifted her chin. “You would have to ask that, wouldn’t you?”
“Huh?”
“It’s not nice to gloat, you know.”
Again, “Huh?”
“I’m doing fine.” She folded her arms over her chest, glaring into her pan of water as though her angry gaze could boil it. “Just fine. In fact, I’ve never needed less help than I do right now. Never, ever.”
Was she upset because he hadn’t helped her work her camp stove? He didn’t think so. And yet…no. It was probably best not to think about it too deeply. Thinking about it would only lead to talking about it—which, with women, often devolved into A Serious Discussion About Things.
Riley nodded. “You’re probably right. You’re getting the hang of things,” he told Jayne. “Bruce told me you navigated him and Mitzi all the way here—”
“With only one tiny detour,” Mitzi put in.
“—and with no help from him at all.” He gave Mitzi a not now look. “And you set up your tent much faster today, too.”
Jayne’s skeptical gaze collided with his. “I poked a hole in my air mattress with a bivvy sack.”
Riley still didn’t know how she’d managed that. He suspected she’d brought along contraband stilettos inside the soft fabric bag, but confronting her about it now was pointless.
“Easily fixed,” he assured her, “with some duct tape.”
“I dunked my flashlight in the wash-up pail.”
“That’s what waterproof casings are for.”
“I screamed when a squirrel came into my tent.”
“They’re sometimes fairly ferocious looking.”
“I got lost coming back from a nature break.”
He kept as straight a face as he could. “You found a little extra privacy, that’s all.”
“Oh, what’s the use?” Jayne flung her hands in the air. “I’m terrible at outdoors stuff!”
Okay. This required further intervention. With a keep-up-the-good-work nod for Mitzi, Riley moved closer to Jayne. He sat on his haunches in silence, hands loosely clasped between his knees. He waited.
“I’ve never been able to get the hang of ‘guy things,’” she complained, going on just as he’d known she would. “My dad knew it, my brothers knew it, and now…everyone else knows it, too!”
She buried her face in her palms, shaking her head. “I want to do girl things,” Jayne said defiantly. “I’m good at girl things. Really good.”
He hated seeing her upset. But in an odd way, the fact that Jayne was bothered by her difficulties reassured him. That meant mastering those skills had begun to matter to her. A little. It was a start…a start to forging a potential love of the outdoors they could share.
“Camping and hiking aren’t ‘guy things.’ They’re fun things. I promise.” He put a hand to her knee. “You just need more wilderness training.”
Jayne’s head came up. She regarded him through suspiciously moist blue eyes. She sniffled. A cautious hopefulness edged onto her expression.
“Wilderness training?”
Riley nodded. “That’s right. With your wilderness instructor.” He pointed at himself, then pitched his voice to a husky, private timbre. “I know things about…nature…I can hardly wait to show you.”
Comprehension dawned. A small smile curved her mouth. “I’d like that.”
So would he. “Okay then. Come on.”
They stood together, Jayne wiping her eyes with her fingers. She followed him to the edge of the evening’s campsite.
“Hey,” Mitzi called from behind them. “What about your boiling water? What about dinner?”
“I’m not hungry,” Jayne shouted over her shoulder, waving to Mitzi. The conspiratorial smile she gave Riley made his blood run hot. Her gaze never left his as she yelled out, “I’ll have a little something later.”
“I’ve got a big something for you right now,” Riley promised in a low voice.
She laughed with delight over his teasing. Her attention whisked past his chest and lower, in an assessing, deliberately provocative arc. There was one thing about Jayne—she could give back as good as she got.
“I’ll just bet you do,” she said. “I can’t wait to see it.”
“I can’t wait to show you.”
Caught up in the connectedness their bantering engendered, warmed by it, Riley took her hand. Moments later, they’d entered the privacy of the wooded area far beyond the camp. Riley shook out the thing he’d tucked beneath his elbow before leaving.
“My tarp?” she asked, looking puzzled.
“You bet.” He spread it over a soft carpet of fallen leaves, then gestured toward it as anticipation simmered through him. “Your bug-free haven awaits.”
Jayne bit her lip, staring downward. “But…can’t the bugs just crawl on top of the tarp and get me that way?”
“Not if we work fast,” Riley said, and carried her down.
Jayne giggled as he kissed her, then moaned as their familiar union deepened. They rolled over. In an instant, Riley had playfully pinned her arms over her head.
“I guess you caught me,” Jayne said, smirking. “What are you going to do with me now?”
“Make up for lost time,” he promised. He wedged his knee between her parted, track-pant-covered thighs, then lowered until his chest barely grazed her breasts. Riley looked deeply into her eyes, overcome with tenderness for the woman lying so trustingly in his arms. “And make you regret every minute you won’t be spending right here. With me.”
She sighed. “Oh, Riley.”
“Save your breath,” he instructed with a kiss. “You’ll need it for screaming with pleasure later.”
And with that he began…making time irrelevant to both of them.
Later, Jayne trudged dispiritedly back to the campsite, running her fingers through her bedraggled hair in an attempt to lose her involuntary “big-haired crazy woman” look. Recognizing the effort was futile, she gathered the strands in a fresh ponytail and snapped her covered elastic over it.
She sighed. She should have been lying blissfully in Riley’s arms right now, enjoying the afterglow of fabulous spontaneous lovemaking. She should have been snuggled against his blast-furnace heat, complimenting him on a job well done. She should have been prostrate with satisfaction, unable to move a muscle except to grin. But no. She wasn’t. And why not?
Because she was a girly-girl, that’s why.
Riley hadn’t said as much. In fact he’d been very considerate, very understanding about the sudden mood-wrecking realization Jayne had had partway through their “wilderness training.” But the truth was, they hadn’t come together in the intimate way they’d both hoped for. And it was all Jayne’s fault. She was disappointed…but it had to be this way.
After all—how could she possibly make love with him, when she hadn’t bathed for two whole days now?
During those two days, she’d hiked. She’d labored to set up tents and blow up injured air mattresses. She’d even climbed a tree (sort of, to the lowest branch), to try and discover her navigation error today. She had to be stinky, or at least less than fresh. And although Riley’s frequent use of the pre-moistened towelettes he’d introduced her to seemed to have left him clean and appealing, Jayne couldn’t say she felt as confident about herself.
