Reconsidering Riley (26 page)

The two men sighed like lovesick sailors on
a two-day pass. "That was somethin' else," Bruce said. "He fell for
her hard."

"Really loved her, I think," Mack
agreed.

She hardly dared to breathe, but she had to
know. "What was her name?"

Another blank look from Bruce. "Dunno."

Jayne stared expectantly at Mack. He shook
his head.

Still, it had to be her. She hardly dared
hope, and yet...
it had to be
.

"But if you don't even know her name," Jayne
asked gently, "how do you know Riley was in love with her?"

"Simple," Bruce said. "He never talked about
her."

Okay, she was losing it. They were making no
sense at all. Maybe pretending to be macho was affecting her
strangely. But it was her only hope of keeping the conversation
going, so she had to keep it up. Jayne lifted her arm and scratched
her fleece-clad armpit.

Apparently, Mack took pity on her, because
he offered an explanation: "The only thing Riley would ever tell us
about the woman from San Francisco was that he'd met her," he said,
"and that he missed her."

Missed her
. Yearning welled inside
Jayne. If only that were true. If only Riley had missed her. Missed
her enough to come back.

"Yeah," Bruce agreed. He raised his eyebrows
as Jayne tried to carry on her just-us-guys cover by belching. Only
a small "
peep
" emerged. "See, with an ordinary girl, a guy
talks about her with his buddies. But with a special girl...well,
he clams up. He doesn't want to risk blowing it."

"
And
he doesn't want to risk having
his buddies make fun of her
perfectly harmless
pet name for
him," Mack added, looking stormy for the first time.

"Quiet, Piggly-Wiggly. I'm trying to talk to
the lady."

Mack glared at Bruce, then transferred his
gaze to Jayne. Deliberately ignoring the other man, he continued.
"Also, with Riley and the San Francisco woman, it was the
way
he talked about her. The way he looked when he
remembered her."

At the reverent tone in his voice, Jayne
held her breath. Both men grew silent for a moment. It felt almost
as though they were paying respect to the mysterious ideal of true
love. Jayne was touched. Deep down, they were sweet, really.

Bruce hawked a loogie. "It was a beautiful
thing."

"Yeah."

Oh, brother
. Jayne recoiled, all
pretense of being rough-and-ready gone. She was nothing like a man,
and it was useless to pretend. She loved baby blue and kittens,
shoe shopping and chocolate. She was a
girl
.

A girl with a mission—a mission to end
Riley's loneliness. Hearing about his self-imposed friendship exile
just about broke her heart. If there was anything Jayne was better
at than girly-girl stuff, it was making friends. Before this trip
was through, she vowed, she'd show Riley how wonderful being close
with other people could really be.

Chapter Sixteen

Riley entered the campsite from the opposite
side he figured Jayne had entered it. As he did, his gaze was
instantly drawn to the campfire circle and the people sitting on
logs around it. They looked cozy. As cozy as they'd looked together
every night so far. The firelight flickered on their smiling faces
as they talked in voices too low to carry clearly to his position.
Sparks snapped into the night sky above them.

Go over there
, a part of him urged.
But a lifetime of being on the outside kept Riley where he stood.
He'd always been the new kid, the American curiosity in a foreign
land. He'd never hung out at the mall, cruised through suburbia
with a newly minted driver's license, bruised his thumbs playing
video games with pals. Thanks to his parents' dedication, from the
moment he could hug a tree Riley had been involved in more
"meaningful" environmental and cultural pursuits.

He'd been good at them. He didn't regret his
expertise in outdoors skills and wilderness sports. He didn't feel
sorry for himself. But he had...once.

Photography had saved him. It had changed
him. Seen through his camera's lens, the world took on a personal
light. Captured through that lens, the world became
his
.
Riley had loved photography instantly. He'd begun taking pictures
in Norway, Chile, Turkey—and shortly afterward, a chance encounter
with a
National Explorer
magazine editor had changed his
life. Since then, he'd divided his time between photography
assignments and guided travel work, comfortable with the movement
and change both required.

But now...now he felt inexplicably lured by
the gathering in front of him. It didn't make sense. Riley had
never experienced such a powerful longing before—except as a boy.
And that had been before he'd learned to accept things the way they
were. Hell, aside from his weird settling-down yearnings in San
Francisco with Jayne....

Jayne
. Of course. He felt this way
only because of Jayne. Probably because of their rendezvous in the
woods. They hadn't come together the way he'd hoped, and that
explained this feeling.

Satisfied, Riley squared his shoulders. He
wasn't changing. He wasn't craving something so unreliable as
stability. He was merely sorry to have missed another opportunity
with Jayne.
Whew
. He headed toward the opposite end of camp,
intent on double-checking the tents and water supplies. He'd almost
made it past the crackling fire when Jayne called out to him.

"Riley! I'm so glad you're here." She
hurried toward him, a welcoming smile on her heat-flushed face. She
took his arm and began dragging him toward the fire. "Look,
everyone! It's Riley, come to join us!"

They turned interested faces toward him.
Riley blanched.

"Nah, I have things to do." He gestured
vaguely toward the dark, safe edge of camp. His stupid foot began a
telltale tap. "Equipment to check. Routes to plan."

"Marshmallows to toast." Jayne pressed one
of her silly "designer" sticks in his hand. The ribbons tied to it
fluttered in the breeze and tickled his fingers. "Yum, yum."

"Uhhh—"

"Look, here's your first marshmallow." She
poked one onto the end of his stick with exaggerated care. Her
upward glance implored him to toast it.

Well, if it meant that much to her... "Okay.
One marshmallow won't kill me."

"Yay!" the women cried, as they often did.
Riley couldn't
believe
he'd actually agreed to do this.
Campfire gatherings were for other people...people who needed
people, or some psychobabble crap like that.

He reluctantly edged nearer. Everyone called
out greetings. They shifted to make room on the nearest log. Jayne
pushed his shoulders downward, shoving him into place. Within
seconds, Riley found himself somewhere he'd never
been—
inside
the circle. Travelers pressed close on all
sides, getting resituated. The conversation resumed, this time to
include him.

Uncomfortable, he rotated his tense
shoulders.

"Isn't this nice?" Jayne asked chirpily
beside him. She covered his hand with hers, guiding his stick into
position above the fire. She kept it there with a gentle
pressure.

He grunted. What was he supposed to say now?
There was no purpose to this gathering. There were no instructions
to be given, no training to be offered, no plans to be made. Riley
felt at loose ends, and hated it.

Maybe he could take a cue from Jayne. She
was never at a loss for friendly behavior. He cleared his throat
and began with her.

"Your, uh, hair looks nice. New style?"

She patted the strands, which stuck out from
the clip at her nape in a way that seemed purposefully haphazard.
"Just a little something I worked up until I can wash it properly,"
she said, looking pleased. "I saw it on a woman at the gym a few
weeks ago, and just remembered how to do it."

"It's cute."

"Thanks, I—" Jayne's eyes narrowed suddenly,
as though she'd just remembered she was talking to a man with no
previous interest in hairstyles, cute or otherwise. She opened her
mouth, obviously intending to ask him about it. Riley took a deep
breath and moved on.

"That, uh, color suits you, Kelly."

Kelly blushed and patted the collar of her
bulky pink sweater. "Gee, thanks, Riley. It's nice of you to
notice."

He pushed his luck and went for broke. "That
neckline is great. Very, um, Bogey."

Beside him, Jayne frowned. "You mean
Vogue
-y?"

"Sure. Okay."

Her look of suspicion deepened. Riley
concentrated on turning his marshmallow, watching it puff as it
toasted. When it was done, he raised it to his mouth and blew. A
brilliant Jayne-style maneuver struck him, and he spoke to Doris,
Donna, and Carla next.

"Ladies, is this marshmallow
Atkins-approved? Is it Zone perfect?"

Carla raised her brows.

The sisters gawped. "Well, I think so,"
Donna said, recovering first. "I don't have my book with me,
but—"

"Nonsense," Doris argued. "With all that
sugar? That marshmallow's got high-carb written all over it."

"Hmmph. That hasn't stopped
you
from
pigging out."

"I resent that! Who lost two pounds last
month, and who didn't?"

Clearly
not
the two-pound loser,
Donna crossed her arms over her chest and sulked. Riley regretted
having mentioned anything at all. This group togetherness stuff was
tricky.

He regrouped. "Mitzi, what's life like at
the restaurant?"

She launched into a story about one of her
regular customers, a man who'd ordered a double bacon cheeseburger
and fries delivered to his hospital room after having bypass
surgery. Told with Mitzi's usual wisecracks, the tale had everyone
laughing. Feeling a little more at ease, Riley jabbed another
marshmallow onto his stick. He offered one to Jayne, too. She took
it, still watching him with a speculative expression.

The night deepened. Conversation flowed
freely around the campfire. When Riley got stuck or panicky, he
considered what Jayne would have done, and tried that. In the
process, he learned more about press-on nails, sushi bars, and
self-help hoo-ha than he'd ever imagined. He also learned that
Alexis didn't think Lance was too much of "a jerk" to be sat next
to. And that his good buddy Mack had a major thing going for Kelly.
The two of them shyly traded glances all night.

Gradually, the tightness in Riley's chest
began to loosen. Even Jayne relaxed beside him, seeming to accept
his new chattiness at face value. She guffawed at his tentative
jokes, smoothed over his occasional oddball question, and generally
beamed at him as though he were a prize pupil and she the tenacious
teacher. He found her proprietary attitude a little strange, but he
didn't mind. Riley had the sense he was pleasing her, and that was
all he really wanted.

Encouraged, he asked Carla about piercings
and Lance about Limp Bizkit. He started a discussion about Bruce's
secret cross-stitch hobby, and stifled a grin at his buddy's
insistence that it was "totally Zen, dude." By the time the small
fire was reduced to embers and he was packed with toasted
marshmallows, Riley began to believe he'd misled himself all along.
He could be part of a group. He could fit in. Hell, he could even
enjoy it.

Then the unthinkable happened.

"How about you, Riley?" Doris said. "You've
asked us all about ourselves, but we've heard nothing about you.
What made you want to become an adventure guide?"

"Oh, don't stop there," Donna disagreed with
a wave of her lined hand. "Tell us
all
about yourself." She
leaned forward. "We want to know
everything
. Absolutely
everything."

Instantly, the group quieted. Everyone
looked at Riley.

The air turned heavy. The night pressed in.
A hard band of...
something
, some feeling he didn't want to
name, clamped around his chest. Trapped beneath it, Riley clutched
his marshmallow toasting stick. He swallowed.

He couldn't do it.

"Some other time," he muttered. "I've got
work to do."

Then he threw his stick into the fire in a
shower of sparks, and headed off into the darkness again.

Jayne looked from the smoldering stick to
the man pushing away from the group. She watched Riley turn away,
his face grim. His shoulders stiffened as he met the darkness at
the edge of the campfire's lighted circle, then he melted into the
night.

Disappointment filled her. He'd been so
close! He'd talked, he'd laughed...he'd done those things with
ten
other people, all at the same time. Riley had enjoyed
himself; she knew he had. Jayne had watched him. She'd seen his
wary, elbows-on-knees posture slowly give way to open, arms-waving
interest. She'd seen his gaze slide from troubled to relieved.
She'd witnessed his transformation from determined outsider to
cautious joiner. In a single night, Riley had stepped far beyond
the boundaries he'd set for himself.

And then things had gone too far. He'd
retreated.

Helplessly, Jayne searched the murky
tree-filled landscape for signs of him, looking for any glimpse of
the strong, elusive man who'd captured her heart. She wondered if
she should follow him. Riley had to be...lonely, out there.
Loneliness was the worst thing she could imagine.

That decided it. Jayne got to her feet and
said her goodnights. Alone, she grabbed another fleece from her
tent, then went in search.

After a scary, flashlight-guided trek past
some trees, she found him. Riley sat atop a boulder, gazing up at
the night sky. For a moment, she let herself admire the stillness
of his posture, the silent strength of his features...the courage
that let him confront the darkness this way. He really was amazing.
Stillness and silence were not Jayne's personal strong suits. And
courage? Heck, her idea of courage was braving a bikini wax without
a triple-strength Tylenol beforehand.