Reconsidering Riley Read Online Free Page B

become one at this stage of his life. Riley
patted his shoulder in silent empathy.
    "I'm trapped," Bud said, shifting his bleak
gaze to his grandson. "Trapped."
    Riley didn't need to hear it twice. Trapped was exactly the way he felt right now, and he didn't
like it one damned bit.
    Especially once he rounded the last corner
and the lodge came into view...along with the women waiting for
them.
     
     
     
    Baby blue . Riley would have
recognized that particular shade of his favorite color anywhere. It
was as recognizable as the McDonald's arches, as familiar as the
color of the sky, as memorable as...as the only woman he'd ever
known who'd actually possessed a "signature color."
    Jayne .
    She was here.
    Nah , Riley told himself amid the
clatter and chatter of the rest of his family getting out of the
Suburban, gathering up packages, slamming their doors. That was
crazy .
    Jayne Murphy was the least likeliest
candidate for a wilderness vacation he could think of. She wore
high heels exclusively, except when she was barefoot or in bed.
(And sometimes, he remembered with a grin and a stupidly fond
mental flashback involving a pair of red stilettos, even then.) She
"cooked" by nuking microwave popcorn, ripping open a packet of
margarita mix, or (occasionally), pouring some Cap'N Crunch. She
wore mini skirts.
    Jayne's idea of wildlife was the abandoned
pets she rescued (she had a serious soft spot for mutts and strays
of any kind), then dressed up in petwear ensembles—complete with
hats—while looking for the best new owner. Her notion of "roughing
it" was a vacation spot with no ice machine and an unheated
swimming pool. She hiked only to the nearest Nordstrom's, so far as
Riley knew, loved nothing more than being indoors with a flute of
champagne and a happening band playing nearby, and avoided all
contact with anything that might make her dirty.
    There was no way Jayne could be here.
She'd sooner chew up her Macy's card, he felt certain, than
voluntarily forgo her God-given right to room service.
    And yet...somehow....
    He peered closer. The bombshell with the
ready smile and the honey blonde hair, the "It" girl with the
va-va-voom baby blue dress and the legs up to there, the talking,
laughing, guilelessly generous woman who was at this very minute
sympathetically patting Bud's bum shoulder... nah .
    Shaking his head, unable to move from behind
the steering wheel, Riley squinted through the windshield. All
around him, life went on as usual. Greenhorn adventure travelers
milled around looking apprehensive, as though Mother Nature meant
to spit on them. Alexis alternately sulked and laughed. Gwen
greeted and smiled. Bud unfolded his arms and... preened ?
    Riley blinked. Yep. His grandfather was
actually strutting a little, puffing out his chest and putting on
his most gregarious expression—the one he used while trying to
sucker his doctor into letting him water-ski.
    That was when Riley knew it was true. Only
Jayne could have had an effect like that on Bud. Only Jayne could
have had an effect like this on...him.
    Spooked at the realization, Riley made
himself unclench his fingers from the wheel. He couldn't just sit
here like an idiot, gawping at her. Gawping at all of them. It was
embarrassing. Unmanly. And still, somehow, Riley couldn't help it.
His body refused to cooperate with his brain's efforts to make him
behave normally.
    He looked at Jayne again (to be honest, he
hadn't been able to look away). What kind of cosmic "gotcha!" was
this? He'd only recently reached the point where a thousand little
things didn't remind him of her, didn't remind him of all
they'd—
    No . There was no way in hell he was
heading down that path again. Decisively, Riley got out of
the Suburban and strode toward the group.
    Jayne's profile faced to the left, slightly
away from him. She spoke animatedly with Bud and Gwen, saying
something about how the group hadn't minded their hosts' lateness,
because they'd "bonded" during the wait.
    It was