Reconsidering Riley (6 page)

Jayne didn't disappoint. "I hear the
workshop leader is
extremely
talented," she disagreed.
"Wildly popular. I guess you're not familiar with her best-selling
book?"

Her raised eyebrows dared him to bluff. He
couldn't.

"No. I tend to stick to the
non
mumbo-jumbo section of the bookstore."

"Hmmph."

"But hey—" He spread his arms. "—if it helps
people, I'm all for it. Obviously, there are six women here who
believe in those anti-heartbreak techniques." Riley tilted his head
thoughtfully at her. "I just didn't think you'd be among them."

Her temper flared. "Why? Because you didn't
think my heart could be broken?"

"No, because I didn't think you'd ever let
yourself be less than twenty miles away from your hair
colorist."

Jayne gawped at him. "These are only
highlights
!"

He'd forgotten she was touchy about her
"natural blondeness."

"Look," Riley said with a conciliatory
gesture. "You obviously don't want to be here. And I'm not crazy
about taking out your group tomorrow—"

"
You're
our guide?"

He nodded. She muttered and turned her face
heavenward, shaking her head.

"—but we both have to do what we came here
to do. So we might as well make the best of it. Right?"

He waited for her answer. A moment passed.
Another. It occurred to him that Jayne might be considering leaving
the retreat, rather than deal with his anti-psychobabble jibes. Had
he unknowingly hurt her feelings?

Riley hunkered lower, angling his head to
look into her face. "No more self-help potshots. Okay? Truce?"

Her gaze lifted. He could have lost himself
in her eyes, in her nearness, in her...
hey
.
Knock it off,
you mushball
.

Jayne sighed. "Truce," she agreed.

He wanted to whoop. Or at least give her a
we-have-a-truce kiss to seal the deal. But before he could, she got
to her feet, still clutching her wrapped towel.

"But we have some things to talk about,
Riley," Jayne warned. "Some...issues that still aren't settled
between us. Getting some closure would do us both good."

Geez, she'd already caved in to self-help
speak. He stood, too. "So let's talk."

"Later. I'm not talking to you dressed—" She
gestured toward her towel-wrapped torso, bare feet, still-damp
skin, and mostly-upswept hair. "—like this."

"So lose the towel." Riley waggled his
eyebrows.

"That's not what I mean."

"Then I'll even the odds." He reached for
the fly of his jeans. "Hand me that spare towel over there?"

"Be serious."

Feeling lighter than he had in months, he
put his hands on his hips and grinned. "I am serious."

"You're never serious. Except about hitting
the trail. That's part of the problem."

"Huh?"

"Nothing." Turning away, Jayne opened the
bathroom door. She peeked outside, then angled her head toward the
doorway. "All clear. Let's talk later. After things settle down a
bit."

Riley recognized an invitation to get the
hell out as well as the next guy. He headed for the door.

"How about five minutes from now?" he asked.
"On the deck at the back of the lodge? We'll talk, we'll—"

"Can't. Five minutes from now I'll be
talking to Gwen and Bud, asking for a reassigned trail guide."

"Ouch. You really know how to hurt a
guy."

Jayne's expression sobered. "No. I don't.
Maybe if I did, I wouldn't be in this predicament."

Something in her face struck him. Silenced
him. He wished he could erase whatever hurts she'd suffered,
however they'd come about. Intending to console her, Riley reached
for her hand.

At the same moment, she shoved him into the
hall.

"Hey!"

She shut the door behind him. He heard his
grandmother's oak dressing table being pushed beneath the knob with
a decisive jab meant to secure it against intruders.

Against him.

Riley stared at the door. He raised his
fingertips to its surface. He imagined the woman on the other side
of that polished wood—who was, at this moment, probably boring a
hole through the pine with the force of her defensive, semi-nude
gaze.
Let's talk later
.

Clearly, Jayne's idea of a truce and his
idea of a truce were a
little
far apart. Given time, though,
Riley figured he could bring them closer together.

Much
closer together.

And maybe he could help restore Jayne's
faith in guys like him, while he was at it.

Sure, he decided as he turned away and
headed down the hallway, a new eagerness to his stride. It was the
least he could do, given what they'd once meant to each other. He'd
show Jayne that not all men were no-good dirtbags like the one
who'd sent her to Heartbreak Camp...and in the process, cure
himself once and for all of his lingering longing for blue-eyed
blonde bombshells from the City by the Bay.

And his new motto?
No point trampling
over the past. It's over with
? Hell, this didn't even qualify.
This was just a favor for an ex. An ex Riley was going to be paired
up with for the next week or so whether he liked it or not. He was
only making the best of things, the way he'd suggested they both
do.

So long as he could help Jayne without
bringing his own vagabond ways under fire, Riley was perfectly
happy to do so. Mottos didn't come into play. And neither did an
interest in rekindling things between them.

Not a damned bit.

He passed by the lodge's office. His
grandfather glanced up. "You've got that foot tappin' again, son.
Who you tellin' a stretcher to now?"

Hell
, Riley thought.
Himself, if
he didn't watch it
.

He stilled his foot and kept going, all the
same. He could handle it. And Jayne? Her, too. Just wait and see...
.

Chapter Four

In her room, Alexis flopped onto her bed,
overwhelmed with the
unfairness
of being on the verge of
womanhood, pinched by her stupid braces, and stuck in the middle of
nowhere
—all at the same time. The ruffled pink bedspread her
Nana always hauled out for her visits fluffed around her, obscuring
the
Cosmo
she'd been reading.

If only Nana and Gramps owned one of those
posh resorts in Sedona, instead of this dump. Then there'd be a
swimming pool. T'ai Chi classes. Ayurvedic facials, like she'd read
about in her mom's
Allure
. Shopping nearby—even if it
did
consist mostly of art galleries instead of the Gap.
There'd be things to distract her.

Things to keep her from thinking
about...Brendan.

Alexis still couldn't believe he'd treated
her the way he had. Breaking up with her—with a note!—in front of
all their friends at the
Cinnabon
section of the mall food
court was
so
fifth grade.
So
juvenile. So mean.

So hurtful.

Closing her eyes tight so she wouldn't cry,
Alexis rolled over and grabbed the
Cosmo
. She wanted to read
more of that "Fifty Ways To Look Hot" article. She wanted to return
to school after spring break looking so amazing, Brendan would beg
her to take him back. She wanted to make him
so
sorry.

She wished she weren't alone. She wished her
friends were here. Her great-grandmother had guessed something was
wrong when Alexis had arrived over the weekend, and she'd tried to
help, but she didn't really understand. She'd been married to
Gramps for
decades
. Nana didn't know what it was like to
have a broken heart, and Alexis did.

No matter how much she wished she
didn't.

Heaving herself upward, Alexis hit the
play
button on her CD player. The latest dance hit from J.Lo
thumped its way through her room. If she closed her eyes, she could
almost pretend she was back home, with her mom and her stuff and
her cell phone nearby.

But her cell phone didn't work out here in
the boonies. The canyons messed up the signal. Her stuff didn't
matter as much as being without her friends did. And her Mom was
busy in Rocky Point, Mexico, vacationing with her latest male
"friend." So that left Alexis alone, with a whole
week
of
aloneness stretching ahead of her.

A movement outside her window caught her
attention. Pulling aside the curtain, she peered out. The
anti-heartbreak book author strode past, wearing a dress-and-heels
outfit straight out of
Elle
...but with an attitude straight
out of
Woman Power
. She kept her head high, her back
straight, and her eyes on her destination—the edge of the lodge's
back deck, where Gramps stood smoking a cigar. While Alexis
watched, the author—Jayne, she remembered—approached Gramps. They
turned to each other, smiling and exchanging a greeting Alexis
couldn't quite hear, even though her room overlooked the deck.

She let the curtain fall back and flopped
onto her bed again, still feeling misunderstood. Jayne probably
knew
all
about broken hearts, she reflected. She probably
knew all about getting over them, too.

According to Nana,
Heartbreak 101:
Getting Over The Good-Bye Guys
was a pretty good book. Not that
anyone had let Alexis read it for herself. Her family still treated
her like a kid—look at the
Cosmo
incident. But Jayne...Jayne
was a different story. She'd talked to Alexis in a woman-to-woman
way when they'd met earlier. She'd been nice and pretty and
so
not trying to "get down" with teenager "slang." Alexis
appreciated that.

She'd have bet anything Jayne had
interesting things planned for those women Uncle Riley would be
trail-guiding. Things to help them get over their broken hearts.
Things that...might help Alexis, too.

Hey
! Filled with new energy, she sat
bolt upright on her bed. The answer to her troubles was plain: she
had to go on that heartbreak cure trip. No matter what.

Jayne watched as Bud Davis tapped his cigar
into the ash tray balanced atop the deck's tumbled-stone wall. He
gave another thoughtful drag, then looked at her.

"I'm sorry you're havin' a problem with
Riley," he said. "I've had my share of tussles with him myself, but
I know he means well. If he's offended you—"

"No, it's not that."
He's seen me naked,
sir. Again. And I'm mortally embarrassed that he goaded me into a
show-all bath accessories battle, too
. "Riley and I...I just
think it would be better if another guide were assigned to my
group."

Bud squinted toward the desert landscape.
"How many people are in your group?"

"Six, including me."

"How many days will you be stayin'?"

"Six. Until Sunday."

"And how long did you and my grandson
date?"

"Six months, give or take a—hey!"

The older man smiled. Too late, Jayne
glimpsed the wiliness in his eyes. Until just this minute, Bud had
seemed merely a good-natured older gentleman, white-haired and
countrified in his flannel shirt. Now, all of a sudden, the rest of
the story was revealed. This was a man, she realized, who loved a
good adventure—whether it was a trek through the wilderness or a
fact-finding mission to uncover his unsuspecting guest's
secrets.

No wonder Riley had grown into the wanderer
he was. If his grandfather were any indication, seeking out
uncharted territory was in his blood.

"I thought so," Bud said, nodding. "And how
long since you two split?"

She couldn't resist the gruff understanding
in his face. "Not quite two years. I guess Riley didn't...tell you
and Gwen about me?"

At Bud's head shake, Jayne's spirits sank. A
part of her had hoped Riley had been compelled to talk about her,
had been unable to resist confiding news of the woman he'd met in
San Francisco and the whirlwind romance they'd shared.

"I'm sorry," Bud went on. His lined hand
covered hers, squeezed, moved away. He gazed at a distant red rock
formation. "I shouldn't have pried. But the truth of the matter is,
Gwen and I are pretty close to Riley. It was obvious something
about you got to him, even before the rest of your ladies ambushed
him."

At the memory of the way her breakup-ees had
leapt to her post-breakup defense, Jayne blushed. She'd have to
tell them to lay off Riley. He was her problem, and she'd handle
him her way.

By avoiding him.

Which brought her back to...

"I didn't mean for that to happen," she
said. "Riley and I have already talked about it."
While I was
naked
. "We've come to an understanding, believe me."
After
he returned to consciousness
. "So about that reassigned
guide—"

"Can't," Bud said succinctly. "There's
nobody else to go."

He seemed aggrieved by that fact. Yet
strangely stoic, as though resigned to it. Jayne didn't understand
his reaction.

"But surely in an outfit this size—"

He shook his head.

"My publicist led me to believe—"

"Riley's your man."

Jayne sighed. A silly, schmaltzy,
impossible-to-silence part of her still wished that were true.
Riley's your man
.

At the sympathetic look Bud threw her, she
forced a smile. There was no point letting this very nice man know
how undone she was by this news. By being stuck, here, with
Riley.

So the Hideaway Lodge wasn't the New Age spa
retreat Francesca had led her to expect. So her ex-lover was about
to guide her deep into the middle of nowhere. Did that mean, Jayne
asked herself as Bud went back to smoking his cigar, that she had
to panic?

Yes
!
Yes, it did
.