Reconsidering Riley by Lisa Plumley

the training area. Carla
strutted with her beringed nose held high. Mitzi popped her gum
with extra sassiness. Donna and Doris jostled each other as the
sisters swished their hips. Even shy Kelly put a little wiggle in
her walk.
    None of them, though, had mastered the
elegant jubilation that defined Jayne's movements. Dressed in a
baby blue sweater, blue jeans with the legs rolled up at the
ankles, a rhinestone bracelet, and strappy heels, she somehow
managed to embody sex appeal and decisiveness with every
long-legged stride. Watching her move was an education in
femininity...and a distraction that made Riley nearly pitch into the tents he'd been handling.
    They stopped in front of him, their
highly-accessorized selves at the ready. Necklaces, bracelets, and
earrings gleamed in the rising sunlight. Lipstick and eye makeup
defined every face. A veritable smorgasbord of perfumes wafted on
the morning breeze.
    Riley sneezed. "Good morning," he said with
a smile. "You're all looking very...gussied up today."
    They beamed. Whew . "Gussied up" was
acceptable. A man could never tell. He wouldn't have thought
describing a pack that fit like a lover's embrace would have caused
a mass exodus yesterday, but that's what had happened. Now,
suddenly, he felt on firmer footing with the group again.
    Until just this minute, he hadn't realized
how much he'd—well, worried wasn't exactly the right
word— wondered about this post-exodus encounter.
    "We all had, like, mini-makeovers at the
slumber party last night," Carla explained.
    "Jayne brought enough Velcro rollers and
Bioré strips for everyone," Mitzi said, touching her hair. "She's
the best!"
    "If you look good, you feel good," Kelly
offered.
    "Yay!" they all cheered, high-fiving each
other as though they'd scored three-pointers rather than beauty
advice.
    "Good morning," Jayne said amid the
hubbub.
    His world stood still.
    What ? His world stood still ?
What was with all the mooshy sentiment all of a sudden? Riley
wondered. Jayne merely looked at him, and he—
    "It's a little chilly out," she went on.
    —wanted to offer her the shirt off his back,
just to keep her warm. Shaking off the notion (her sweater looked
plenty warm, and plenty perfectly-fitted, too), Riley addressed the
group.
    "Is it too late for one of those makeovers?"
he asked. He grasped the ends of his shirt and tugged them outward.
"I just washed this shirt, and I can't do a thing with
it."
    They laughed. He grinned, tousling his hair
self-consciously with his hand. Not for a million dollars would
Riley have admitted to glancing twice at Gwen's blow dryer this
morning, considering "gussying" himself up to make a good
impression.
    "You don't need any help, young man," Doris
said, looking him up and down. "You look just fine, just the way
you are."
    "Nonsense. Better than fine," Donna
clarified. "Shoot, if I were fifteen years younger...."
    They waggled their eyebrows. Riley started.
Had his clothes transformed into some Chippendale's-type G-string
ensemble when he wasn't looking? The last time he'd checked, he'd
dragged on a perfectly ordinary Polarfleece hooded shirt, jeans,
and Timberlands this morning. But the sisters' lascivious looks
made him double-check.
    Jayne caught him at it. She grinned. "Don't
worry."
    Their communication mojo was still
functioning. She'd guessed what he'd been thinking. Remarkable.
    "Your buckle isn't hanging out," she
added.
    Huh ? Riley gave her a quizzical look,
but she only whipped out a leopard-print compact
and—urgently—checked her lipstick.
    He examined her pinkening cheeks, wondering
at the cause of her blush. But then the rest of the group crowded
around him, demanding to know what was on their training agenda for
the day. Riley was forced to turn his attention to the job at
hand.
    "We'll be spending the morning learning to
set up tents." He nudged his hiking boot toward the two-person
models stacked beside him. "Then, a crash course in orienteering
with a compass. After