by Lisa Plumley
Second, there’d been the guide switch. Riley had announced that the hiking groups would be shuffled—this time, he would lead Doris, Donna, and Lance. Mack would lead Kelly, Alexis, and Mitzi. And Bruce (with his double entendres and cheerful ribaldry) would lead Carla and Jayne. That might not have been so bad in itself…except Bruce seemed determined to set a land-speed record for distance hiking. He wouldn’t settle for anything less than the equivalent of a level eight on Jayne’s health club treadmill.
Then there were the bugs, the bug bites, the dirt, the constant incline, her sore, overworked muscles…clearly this whole scheme was insane. She was trying to make the best of it. Honestly. But if not for the necessity of researching her techniques’ effectiveness for her anti-heartbreak workbook, Jayne would have turned around and used her last remaining energy to hike back to civilization where she belonged.
However, if her group reentered civilization now, it could be disastrous. Civilization meant her breakup-ees would have easy access to their exes—and to resolve-destroying “our place” drive-bys, “our song” replays, and “our past” remembrance wallows. For the sake of all the women in her care, she had to carry on.
Dreaming of gardenia-scented body powder, she trudged onward in Bruce and Carla’s wake. Longing to test the effectiveness of her peppermint tranquility bath set with a good scrub down, she navigated past the increasingly tall pines and twisty oaks. Craving a movie, a shopping spree, a research trip that didn’t require getting slapped in the face with evergreen boughs and tripping over half-buried fallen trees, Jayne kept going.
She hadn’t had time to do anything more with her hair beyond a basic ponytail. She hadn’t had the resources to put together more than a rudimentary, mostly-baby-blue hiking ensemble, and today wore soft track pants, a camisole with a fleece top, and her ATSes. Her makeup consisted of mascara, an all-in-one emergency color stick, and lip gloss. This was probably the worst she’d looked since emerging from awkward teenagerdom, and Riley was partly to blame for it.
He’d appeared suddenly at the campsite after a mysterious absence, his expression rough and his eyes evasive. Gone had been the teasingly seductive man she’d flounced away from after their morning conversation. In his place had been a brisk and professional guide…a stranger. He’d announced his plans for the day’s hike, asked everyone to be ready to leave in ten minutes, and then had stonily spent their remaining time helping the women pack up.
He hadn’t helped Jayne. Instead, he’d avoided her. She didn’t know why. She’d caught him watching her once, a speculative tilt to his head. Upon noticing she’d noticed, though, he’d instantly averted his gaze, his face tightening.
She should have been relieved. Glad, even. If Riley kept his distance, avoiding the temptation of rekindling their relationship would be that much easier. Even so, Jayne wasn’t relieved. She was concerned, and distracted, and even a little disappointed. It seemed a part of her had enjoyed wrangling with him, had looked forward to testing her resist-the-hunk skills against Riley’s disarming smile, merry eyes, and undeniable charisma.
She probably just missed the challenge, Jayne told herself. She detected the sound of running water nearby and cocked her head to listen more closely. She missed proving to herself that she could resist Riley. It had been good for her self-confidence to resist him, a balm to her pride to confront him and sometimes emerge the victor. Sure, that was it.
Right. And wedgies would be back in style any minute now.
They came to a bank overgrown with tall grasses, studded with wildflowers. It sloped sharply downward to a stream-fed pool of clear water, the source of the sound she’d heard. Just above it, Bruce and Carla paused.
“Time for fishing!” her guide said.
Fishing. Great. Belatedly, Jayne remembered Riley saying something about hiking, fishing, and getting deeper into nature today. Probably, she’d blocked out the memory.
Unfortunately, she’d also forgotten her gummy worms.
She glanced around the perimeter of the water. The other groups had stopped too. The other guides—like Bruce—efficiently unpacked the fishing gear. They assembled rods with practiced motions, set out bait, surveyed the lazily swirling water with eyes that probably saw more than a postcard-perfect view.
And it was perfect, Jayne realized. Serene and bucolic, with sunshine splashing over the water and leaves rustling in the breeze. She could almost begin to…appreciate this. Grudgingly, Jayne forgave Mother Nature for the potty ambush she’d suffered this morning (after having forgotten to pee downhill), and sat on the bank to watch the action.
A few yards away, Doris and Donna stood beside Riley and Lance, arguing in low voices about something Jayne couldn’t make out. The sisters had vowed before hitting the trail this morning to make life difficult for their new guide, and none of Jayne’s protestations had changed their minds. Driven by loyalty to their anti-heartbreak coach, the two women seemed determined to punish Riley for what they saw as his months-old abandonment of Jayne.
She didn’t approve. But she did understand. And a teeny tiny part of her appreciated the thought behind Doris and Donna’s plan, too. Misguided as it was, her breakup-ees faithfulness made Jayne feel she’d truly forged new friendships here. There was no way Riley would get past those two. Not when they had mayhem on their minds.
Of course, Riley had changed Kelly’s mind about him pretty quickly, she remembered. I’m glad to be part of your group, Kelly had said shyly yesterday. Thanks, Riley. You’re really understanding.
Well, that didn’t mean he could work similar magic on Doris and Donna. Those two were determined, their fidelity unshakable.
“Come on down, Jayne.” Bruce waved his arm, indicating the fishing pole and bait he’d set out beside Carla’s. “Time to catch some lunch.”
She shuddered, but gamely made her way down the rock-and grass-studded slope. The rushing water grew louder. A fresh fragrance rose from the banks, tinged with a hint of mossy green. Bruce explained that the plan was to catch some fish, then the guides would clean them while Jayne conducted her next anti-heartbreak workshop. Afterward, they’d all enjoy grilled fish for lunch, and head on their way.
Within no time, Jayne was gripping a pole. She dangled her line in the pool of water, watching skeptically as the bait Bruce had hooked for her eddied in the current. Some poor fish was about to have the shock of its life. And it would be all her fault. Poor fish. She enjoyed a tasty plate of sea bass with miso glaze as much as the next girl, but this…well, it was too much.
She yanked her pole from the water.
Suddenly, Riley was right beside her. “Problem?”
“Yes. I just became a vegetarian.”
“Anything to do with that fishing pole in your hands?”
“Of course! How can I dupe some poor fish into snacking on my bait and then…and then…”
“Club it over the head and eat it?”
Jayne felt her eyes widen. “Do you really do that?”
“Only when shark fishing.” He examined the fishing pole in his own hands, then expertly cast his line into the water. He tapped his foot. “The kind of fish we’ll catch here only require a small punch.”
She gasped. “That’s barbaric!”
“It’s the way of the wild.” A grin played about his lips as he teased the line in the current. He shrugged. “You’ll get used to it.”
“No, I won’t. That’s like…like luring a person into Macy’s with the promise of fifty percent off leather pants, then bashing her with a hundred-pound mannequin when she isn’t looking!”
Riley cast her a skeptical glance. “I doubt those mannequins weigh an entire hundred pounds. They look underfed to me. Their plastic hip bones stick out.” He shuddered. “Ugh.”
She stared at him. “I’m a vegetarian now,” Jayne repeated. “I’ll eat granola bars for lunch.”
“Eat two. Or three. I don’t want you to look like one of those mannequins.”
He rotated his shoulde
rs, as though releasing some pent-up tension. All at once, cheerfulness emanated from him—that, and competency. He capably handled his fishing rod, confidently watched the water for signs of the fish he’d undoubtedly catch with hardly any effort at all. She’d bet Riley had never had second thoughts about anything in his life.
Including leaving her behind.
Unwilling to dwell on that, Jayne cast her line again, the way Bruce had shown her. It snagged on a partly submerged log.
Riley noticed. “Need help?”
“No.” She gritted her teeth and yanked. “I can do it.”
So what if it had taken twelve tries and twice as many swear words from Bruce to learn the technique? She had it now. Jayne bit her lip and pulled harder.
The line came free. With a determined swing of her arm, she tried again. Again, the line snagged—this time, on a clump of mushy leaves trapped between two rocks. Frustrated, she gave a mighty tug.
“Easy.” Riley’s hand covered hers, guiding her into the motion required to free her line. “Save your energy for clobbering those fish.”
Her line loosened. It went slack as Jayne watched Riley’s profile, noticing that grin of his again.
“We’re not really going to bash the fish, are we?” she asked, eyes narrowed.
“You’re not. I think you’ve had enough for one day.”
She felt like clapping her hands with glee. Instead, she arched an eyebrow. “I have?”
He nodded. Gathering up their poles, Riley gestured for her to follow him to the outcropping of rocks where Mack was showing Kelly and Alexis how to reel in their catch. Further along the water’s edge, Lance proficiently strung together the fish Doris and Donna had snagged. Tellingly, none of the fish were being clubbed. Jayne frowned.
Sometimes—especially where Riley was concerned—she was much too gullible. Next he’d have her convinced she and her breakup-ees really were going to cook their dinners on the camp stoves by themselves tonight.
“This ought to suffice for my share—and Jayne’s,” Riley told Mack, handing the redheaded guide a string of fish Jayne hadn’t noticed before. He set down the poles and bait. “You’re in charge for a while. I promised Jayne some private tutelage in wilderness survival.”
She gawped. “You did no such—”
“Oh.” He feigned surprise. “Did you want to do some more fishing first?”
Gulp. He had her there. Mutely, she shook her head.
“Then come on,” Riley said, and took her hand to lead her away from the water’s edge.
Pine trees rose all around, interspersed with ash and mountain oak. Dried needles crunched underfoot, mixing with fallen leaves and soil. A peaceful breeze wended between the thick-barked trees. It combined with the springtime Arizona sunshine to make the day pleasantly warm.
Riley led Jayne from their fishing spot. The sound of burbling water fell away quickly. So did the murmur of adventure travelers’ and guides’ voices, replaced by bird calls and wind song. Soon, they were alone.
Jayne turned to him, her ponytail swinging. Her face, without its usual gloss of color and glimmer, glowed nonetheless with fresh-scrubbed beauty. Riley loved the way she looked, perfectly free and open. He’d almost have believed he loved her—all except for the conclusion he’d come to while fishing over the past hour.
“What’s this all about?” she demanded, hands on her hips. “You know darn well I’m a hopeless case when it comes to wilderness survival skills, so—”
“This is what it’s about,” Riley said, and kissed her.
She jerked in surprise. Their mouths met—his purposefully, hers in the midst of a protest he didn’t want to accept. He held her against him, one hand at her waist and another behind her neck, silently urging her to listen to all the things he could say only this way…only through this kiss.
Please hear me, he thought, crazily desperate and equally determined. And in a magical moment he knew he’d always remember, Jayne did. Her protest gave way to acceptance, then eagerness. Riley relaxed. A sense of rightness filled him. He pushed further, moving them both up against the wide trunk of a sheltering pine.
He held her hips, steadying her against the tree at her back. With a moan, Jayne wrapped her arms around his neck and went on kissing him, exactly as he’d dreamed. Willingly. Passionately. Needfully. Losing himself in their joining, Riley felt his senses reel with the wonder of holding Jayne again, here, now. She was sweet and good and always remembered. All the most relentless parts of him insisted he get closer. Closer.
He raised his arms, cupped her head with trembling hands. Silky strands brushed past his palms. His fingertips encountered the ponytail holder binding her hair, then moved onward to caress her cheek. He urged her to open wider to him, and she did. With a hungry groan, Riley bent his head to take what Jayne offered.
Their kiss went on and on. Their wilderness clothes clung together, forging a new relationship between Gore-Tex and baby blue fleece. Their bodies did the same, moving to a remembered rhythm. As the sun warmed their faces and the wind whispered its secrets, their breathing rose in the stillness, unified in shared need. Riley gasped as their mouths broke, came together; he braced his legs and held Jayne close as their bodies shook, arched as one.
This was what he wanted, what he’d dreamed of. This was what Riley had realized lay unfinished between them, as he’d fished today with thoughts of Jayne rambling relentlessly through his head. He’d spent the morning over the puzzle of having disappointed her, over the possibility of having left her lonely. In the end he’d come to only one conclusion.
A true ending was what they needed.
Not a note left on the morning of a new assignment’s departure. Not a silent goodbye as he bent over a sleeping Jayne and memorized her features before leaving. A real ending, a parting as understood as it was certain—those were the things he owed Jayne, Riley knew now. Those were the things she needed. The things he’d give her…this time.
It was all so damned simple. So obvious. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t realized it before. He’d never gotten over her because he needed to give Jayne a goodbye. To give them both a goodbye.
But that didn’t mean they couldn’t enjoy each other in the meantime.
Now, with Jayne in his arms and her kiss on his lips, a new hope—a new purposefulness—filled Riley. It energized him anew. He all but crackled with enthusiasm, and with the relief of having solved the puzzle of his continued thoughts of her. Now he knew how to set things right between them, once and for all.
Reluctantly, he ended their kiss. Smiling, he bent his knees until their foreheads gently touched. He gazed into her eyes.
“I’m sorry, Jayne,” he said, his voice roughened with regret. “I’m sorry for hurting you. I didn’t know.”
Her body went rigid. She pushed away. “What?”
“I didn’t know I’d hurt you. But I figured it out today—”
“Who have you been talking to?”
“What? Nobody. I’ve been thinking, and—”
“Thinking?” She turned in a circle, her arms wide with apparent disbelief. “About me?”
Riley nodded.
“Ha! Don’t do me any favors.”
He stepped toward her, intending to take her hand. She turned away before he could. Somehow, things had gone awry. Again. He had to explain, before Jayne misunderstood.
Too late.
“What were you thinking, anyway?” she asked, spinning to face him. She trod through the fallen leaves, crunching their dried surfaces beneath her all-terrain shoes. “That you’d haul me out here, kiss me, and make me forget all the—all the things that happened between us?”
“Well…sort of.” Actually, that was pretty much what had happened. “You didn’t seem to mind.”
His grin faded beneath the glare she threw him.
“You can’t say you didn’t enjoy it,” he added.
She folded her arms. “I didn’t enjoy it.”
“Liar. You enjoye
d it as much as I did. As far as I’m concerned, that’s just more proof I’m right about this.”
“What?”
She kept saying that. “Like I said before, I’m sorry. But I’ll do better this time. We’ll do better. We have a second chance here. Let’s use it. Together, for as long as it lasts.”
At the word together a haunted look filled her eyes. Jayne gazed up at him, momentarily silent. Riley regretted all the more having let her down. This time, this second chance, he’d make things clearer. Was already making things clearer—he hoped.
“And this is what you brought me out here to tell me?”
He nodded.
“I already told you I’m not having a fling with you,” she warned. Her chin tilted at a determined angle. “I’m not. You can’t make me.”
“Actually…I can.” Riley couldn’t help but grin as he considered all the myriad ways to do so. “I can make you forget every objection you have.”
“No, you—”
“I can.” He stepped nearer, letting his gaze rove over her. As always, the sight of her warmed him…everywhere. “I will. But this time, I’ll do it right. I’ll do everything right, the way I should have before.” He added the ultimate incentive. “It’ll be fun.”
“No.” She hesitated, as though weakening. “No fling. I’d have to be crazy to—”
“I’m not talking about a fling. I’m talking about finishing what we started, all those months ago.”
Apparent disbelief widened her eyes. He nodded, making sure she understood he was serious. About this. About her. About giving Jayne the—hell, he couldn’t believe he was even thinking this—closure she needed.
She canted her head sideways, examining him. “Riley, you can’t do this to me. You can’t. I’m over you now.”
Ouch. That hurt. He didn’t believe her, but it hurt.
“Give me this,” he urged. “Let me make everything right. I owe it to you.”