by Lisa Plumley
Around her, the women continued to sing. Apparently Kelly needed another round of “Your Cheating Heart” for her song to be properly karaoked into submission. Joining in to keep everyone on track, Jayne glanced sideways, hoping to see that her pack—and the essentials-only makeup kit inside it—were within reach after all.
Instead, to her horror she saw Riley…headed straight toward her. Straight toward her ordinary self.
Chapter Eighteen
Riley strode nearer, bemused by the women’s enthusiastic singing. They’d chorused together so loudly, all the guys had started humming along from a distance. Of course, he was still confused by Jayne’s “Born To Be Wild” routine—having heard the subject of the workshop—but he figured that must have been her and Bozo Boy’s “song.” It would be just like that heartbreak camp loser to saddle Jayne with an unromantic “romantic” song. He and Jayne had shared a much more romantic tune.
He stood to the side until they’d finished singing. As the group started to break up, Riley approached Jayne. Despite her impromptu Steppenwolf routine, he wasn’t convinced she was okay.
He’d seen her skip the primping, after all.
“Never knew you were so ‘wild,’” he said, grinning.
She looked away, as though distracted. “It’s just a song. And I’m, uh, pretty busy right now, Riley. Don’t you have a workshop of your own to do?”
“I’m tag teaming with Bruce. My session was Perfect Poker Faces. His was Catcalls, Hoots, and Hooters: Impress Her With Streetwise Sweet Talk. I aced wolf whistles, but I’d had all I could take after the hey, babys started.”
Jayne nodded seriously. Then she seemed to remember something. Rapidly, she visored her hand over her eyes to shield them.
“Well, uh, good for you,” she said, looking down at the ground as though searching for something. “See you around.”
“I came to make sure you’re okay.”
“Fine! Fine.” Now she tugged her hair with her free hand, smoothing it. “I’m fine. Just busy.”
Riley hunkered down, trying to look into her face. “Are you sure you’re all right? Because this morning—”
“I’m great. Just peachy. So you can go…do whatever you were planning to do. Thanks for stopping by!”
She shooed him away with her hands. The motion seemed to remind her that she’d left her eyes unshaded and her hair unsmoothed, because Jayne jerked her hands back into place. If possible, she huddled even more into herself.
Now he was really worried. She was acting so strangely. Riley took her hands gently in his and tugged. Jayne yelped, and moved them back into place.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, frowning.
“My eyes! I…I have something in them.”
“Both of them?”
“Ow! Ow! You’d better…leave, right away.”
She swiveled on her log seat, turning away from him. He examined her. Having apparently decided to leave her hair alone, she’d covered her entire face with her hands.
“Let me see,” he urged. “Maybe I can help.”
“No!”
Riley rocked backward slightly on his heels. Recovering from her vehement refusal, he said, “I don’t mind. Come on.”
“Don’t look at me!”
“I’ll have to look at you,” he said reasonably, “to help you.”
“Not now!” Jayne surged to her feet, hands still over her face. She moved them to fix her hair, to tug her shirt, then to cover her face again, all in rapid succession. Nearly jumping with frustration—or was it pain?—she clapped her palms over her eyes again. “I’ll take care of this. You…go find Carla and see if you can help her, okay? She’s not feeling well.”
“Oookay.”
The minute he agreed, she galumphed to the pile of backpacks, pulled hers free with an expression of profound relief, and then scurried to the edge of the trail. Riley would have sworn Jayne muttered something about, “Can’t believe I’m a ‘before!’” but that didn’t make sense. Did it?
He got to his feet, and went to find Carla.
The air was cooler high in Catsclaw Canyon. The surrounding territory felt remote, even though it was closer to a settled area. Riley rounded a stand of trees and found Carla exactly where the other guidance groupies had said he would—alone on a boulder.
She had her feet propped on a pile of rocks. Her nose ring gleamed in the early-afternoon sun. Her hiking clothes were ripped, layered, and twisted in unique ways that lent them a punk edge. As he watched, she stuck the end of a pen in her mouth and stared thoughtfully at the tablet of paper on her lap.
“I brought you some instant chicken soup,” Riley said, approaching. He eyed her carefully, noting the wariness in her gaze. Carla was the only group member he hadn’t been able to win over yet. It didn’t sit well with him. “Here. It’s not bad if you put enough Tabasco in it.”
He produced the miniature bottle that was always part of his gear and handed it to her along with the cardboard carton of hot soup. “Every camper’s best friend.”
She accepted both with a nod and a distinct lack of eye contact. “Thanks. See you around.”
Riley frowned as he watched Carla balance the soup and Tabasco on her lap. What was it with women today? Every one he encountered told him to get lost. Surreptitiously, he checked his breath. That wasn’t the problem. He tried another tactic.
“That’s a cute nose ring.”
“Save it. Men think my nose ring blows.”
“Well, isn’t it kind of tough to blow with a nose ring? I once photographed a Kikuyu tribesman who said—”
Interrupting his joke, Carla shook her head. She actually paused in her Tabasco-ing of the soup, too. “Look, I’m, like, trying to have a little privacy here. So if you don’t mind…?”
He did mind. He was going to earn her trust, damn it! Now, what else could he do?
Riley rubbed his hands together. “I’ll bring you a blanket to cushion that boulder. Jayne said you’re not feeling well.”
“Don’t bother.”
“Some water?” He offered the bottle strapped at his hip.
“Not thirsty.”
He frowned. “Soup taste okay? I made it myself.”
Pointedly, Carla set down the carton. As ridiculous as it was, Riley’s feelings were hurt.
“Could you just, like, leave me alone, please?” she asked.
“I could.” He sat down beside her instead.
“But you’re not going to. It figures.” She threw up her hands. “The one man I want to pay attention to me won’t, but I’m a magnet for everybody else.”
“Not everybody. Just me.”
She sighed. “You don’t really want to be here.”
“Neither do you, I’m guessing. Why’d you skip Jayne’s workshop?”
“I’m sick. See?” Carla gave a feeble cough.
“I’m not buying it,” Riley said. “You look fine to me.”
Wondering what was going on, he glanced at the pad of paper on her lap. “Who’s the letter to?”
She hesitated. “My Paolo.”
“I thought the workshop participants weren’t supposed to contact their exes.”
“We’re not.” She raised her chin defiantly. “But I only signed onto the workshop to, like, bother Paolo. I thought as soon as he knew where I was going, he’d realize what he’d done to me and—”
“And take you back?”
Carla nodded. “But he didn’t. He only shrugged and said, ‘Whatever you’ve gotta do, Carla.’” Her gaze shifted from her forbidden letter to his face, pleading with Riley to understand. “Not everybody is strong like Jayne, you know! The rest of us could never buddy up to an ex, like she’s done with you, and be okay with it. She knows how to keep things casual, so she doesn’t get hurt.”
Casual. Then Jayne was fine with things as they stood. She didn’t want more from him. Didn’t want him to settle down. Didn’t want him to change. Not that she’d asked him to before, really. It had been im
plied in their increasingly serious relationship, though.
He waited for the relief he expected to strike. Oddly enough, it didn’t. In its place came a sense of…disappointment?
“I guess that’s why she’s the author,” Riley said, dismissing it.
“Yeah.” Carla picked up her soup. She began spooning it into her mouth. “Jayne’s really smart. And totally strong. I really admire her.”
“Me, too.”
Carla gawped.
“It’s true. Coming here has been a challenge for her. But she’s tackled things head-on.”
Beside him, Carla’s expression turned thoughtful. She squinted up at him. “Are you sure there’s not something more serious going on between you and Jayne? Because when you talk about her, you look sorta dreamy and—”
“Me? And Jayne?” He made a dismissive sound. “We tried it once, and it didn’t work. Remember?”
“Same thing goes for me and Paolo. That doesn’t mean it might not happen again.”
They both looked down at her letter. Filled with large loopy script and heart-dotted i’s, it covered the entire page.
“Do you want it to?” Riley asked quietly.
“Well, I do and I don’t.” Carla took a deep breath. She wiggled on the boulder, as though settling in for a long talk. “See, Paolo and me were meant to be together from the start. It was all, like, a misunderstanding when we split. See, it’s—hey, are you sure you want to hear this?”
Riley smiled at her eagerness, at the flood of words that had spilled the minute he’d expressed more than a passing interest. Clearly, Carla needed to be heard. And even though socializing wasn’t his strong suit, he was the one she’d chosen to talk to. He couldn’t bail out now.
“I’m sure,” he said.
“Okay. Well, like I was saying—”
Carla’s words tumbled out, coming faster as she warmed up to her topic—and her audience. Riley smiled and nodded. He almost regretted not taking Jayne up on her “conversation lessons.” But what Carla really needed, it seemed, was someone to listen. He figured he could do that as well as anyone.
“Then what happened?” he asked when she paused.
“Oh, boy,” Carla said. “You’ll never believe it!”
It was ten more minutes before he got another word in edgewise.
That afternoon, more hiking followed. A trailside lunch came and went. Striking out again with her pack strapped on, Jayne tried to focus on the path that brought her closer to the canyon lodge—and the end of her journey—with every step. Instead, she was continually distracted by Riley.
He’d been acting strangely all day. Especially since returning to the workshop campsite with Carla. They’d strode in together arm in arm—Riley nodding, Carla beaming and talkative. Another member of the Riley Davis fan club, Jayne had thought at the time. But now she wondered if something else was going on with Riley. Because he hadn’t left her alone for a minute.
When he’d gone to help Carla, Jayne had managed to fix herself up a little bit. She’d had time to slick on some lipgloss, brush on mascara, and bundle her hair into a ponytail. But before she could do more than turn her fleece right-side-out, Alexis had come to her for advice about Lance. After that, she’d had no opportunity to improve the way she looked.
Well, she had tied her shoelaces. But beyond that—nada. And Jayne didn’t want Riley to realize it.
She tried ditching him by joining Mack’s trail group. Riley rearranged the match-ups. She tried avoiding him by lagging behind. Riley waited for her, a concerned look on his face. She tried jogging ahead, turning her fleece collar up, and staring at the scenery instead of at him whenever he spoke to her. None of it worked. Wherever she went, whatever she did, Riley was there.
It was almost as though he was worried about her. Almost as though he was shadowing her on purpose, like a private detective with a specialty in makeover wanna-bes. If she hadn’t been so preoccupied with trying to avoid showing Riley her worst side, Jayne would have thought his diligence was sweet. As it was, the way he looked at her—as though nothing had changed—just gave her the heebie jeebies. Couldn’t he tell she needed a good blowout? A facial? A manicure?
As though she’d cued him to resume his efforts, Riley matched his pace more closely to hers. He pulled something from his fleece pocket and handed it to her.
“A bandana?” Jayne asked, puzzling at the square of soft cotton she’d accepted.
“Not just any bandana. A baby blue bandana.”
He looked incredibly pleased by this. Why, she didn’t know.
“What’s it for?”
“Well, I pack it in as part of my regular supplies, but I figure it qualifies as an accessory.” Riley’s eager hazel-eyed gaze searched her face. “I thought you might want to wear it.”
Still mystified by his continued watchfulness, she shrugged. “Well, I guess it would protect my highlights from the sun. Thanks.”
They both stopped beside a juniper bush, letting Mitzi and Alexis take the lead in their small group. Jayne folded the bandana, then wrapped and tied it around her head in a way she’d once seen in In Style. She modeled the effect for Riley.
“Beautiful.”
Jayne snorted and started walking again.
“I mean it.” He caught up, matching her pace with no visible effort at all. “You’re beautiful to me no matter what you wear.”
“You don’t have to sweet talk me, Riley.”
“It’s the truth.”
“Come on, I—”
“We didn’t exactly meet under the most glamorous of circumstances, remember? You pushed me—and my camera—out of the path of an incoming wave, and wound up on the pier soaked yourself.”
Jayne remembered. The cold, salty-tasting seawater had drenched her from head to foot. “My stiletto got stuck between the planks in the pier.”
“It’s probably what kept you from being washed away.” Riley gave her a fond smile. “I like stilettos.”
“And then you gave me your coat, and bought me a cup of coffee. Remember the look on that woman’s face when you snuck into the ladies’ room at that café to help me dry off with the hot air dryer?”
“It was like she’d never seen a man before.”
“Not a man trying to talk a woman he’d just met into accepting his pants and shirt—and socks!—until hers dried.”
He grinned. “I’d have given you anything, just to hear you laugh again the way you did when that wave surprised you.”
“And I would’ve happily seen you naked while you switched clothes.” Boy, would she have. Riley was then—like today—a major hunk. “But your pants would never have fit—”
“I still would do anything for you, Jayne. Especially today.”
“—and I wouldn’t have been caught dead in a muscle T, however nice it looked on you.”
What he’d said registered. It was so surprising that Jayne risked exposing her pallid, no-blush face to peek at him. “Today?” she managed. “Why especially today?”
“Because I think you need it. You’ve been through a lot. And because—” At a shout from Alexis up ahead, Riley paused. He scanned the landscape. “Never mind. I’ll show you what I mean instead. We’re here.”
Then he grabbed her by the hand and hustled them both along the trail, toward the log cabin lodge just visible between the trees.
At the canyon lodge, a sense of celebration zinged through the air. Jayne felt it, too. They’d made it to the end of their journey, and from here on, their survival was assured. Jeeps were scheduled to pick up everyone for transport back to the Hideaway Lodge, but they wouldn’t arrive for another day. Until then, there was nothing to do but relax.
With relieved smiles, the women collapsed on the rustic upholstered furniture in the lodge’s common room, unshouldering their backpacks and groaning as they removed their ATSes. The men set about their duties, checking the firewood, fuel oil, and water supplies, inventorying groceries, and scouting the bedrooms on seek-an
d-destroy missions against marauding spiders. Jayne made a special request that they keep their eyes open for any possible javelinas in the room she’d share with Kelly, then fell into an armchair beside the unlit fieldstone fireplace.
Soon, a rag rug cushioned her stockinged feet against the cold hardwood floors. A cup of coffee—courtesy of Mitzi and Bruce, who’d disappeared into the kitchen together, ostensibly to brew the stuff—warmed her hands. A grandfather clock ticked off the length of her blessed indoor sanctuary.
Alexis and Lance left the group and, fortified by the knowledge that the lodge had electricity, went on the hunt for a radio so they could tune in some “decent music.” The breakup-ees gradually scattered. Kelly agreed to let Mack demonstrate the lodge’s solar panels for her, in a move that Jayne figured had to be the granola-and-Timberlands version of “want to see my etchings?” Doris and Donna argued over the best way to assemble a jigsaw puzzle they’d found. Mitzi and Bruce returned to the kitchen to “make toast.” Carla announced that she needed to think things over, and planned to do it on the lodge’s wide front porch.
Within a half hour of arriving, Jayne found herself alone. Spooked by how quickly everyone had abandoned her, she got up. She paced. She worried.
Sure, she’d told her breakup-ees that the workshops were finished. And she’d explained that their final get-together would be an informal session in the morning, geared toward gathering feedback about her techniques. But just because they weren’t officially required to spend time with her, did that mean they didn’t want to?
Apparently so. The realization disheartened her.
Frowning, Jayne went to the window. She had to do something about this. She just had to.
“I’d have thought you’d have had enough of the view,” Riley said from behind her.
“I’m not looking at the view.”
“That’s pretty much all that’s out there.”
“I’m looking for neighbors. People to chat with. People to borrow a cup of sugar from. People to invite over for a kaffeeklatsch.”
“People who haven’t deserted you?”
She wheeled around. Riley was watching her perceptively. Maybe too perceptively. “I never said that.”
