The Bachelor’s Surrender Page 2

  They entered a room furnished with a brown leather wraparound couch, a matching easy chair, and complemented with oak end tables and a wall length entertainment unit that held a large screen TV. Surprisingly, she saw no evidence of the PRCA champion he’d been. No trophies. No plaques. No pictures. Nothing to indicate he was anything more than a simple, down-home cowboy—albeit a grouchy one.

  He stopped and propped his shoulder against the doorframe leading into the room, his stance impatient, his expression bored. She paused beside him, waiting for an invitation to venture further into his domain.

  He wasn’t a gracious host. He didn’t offer her a seat, or a cool drink, which she would have welcomed. A secret smile touched Lauren’s lips. Her prim and proper mother would be shocked at such atrocious manners, not to mention appalled by the fact that he was entertaining a guest without a shirt on. “Uncivilized” is what Maureen Richmond would call a man like Rafe.

  A long, insufferable sigh escaped him. He looked as though he was barely tolerating her, so she claimed the leather chair nearest him and got down to business. She had a lot to accomplish in fifteen minutes, her main goal to wring a little compassion from the hard-hearted hero.

  “Like I mentioned before, I’m a foster care assistant. I work for Blair Foster Care Services in Pasadena, California, but I also represent Bright Beginnings, which is a foundation I personally established which caters to helping foster children adjust to their new lives. Every once in a while I come across a young client whose extenuating circumstances warrants an extra special request.”

  Pulling a manila folder from her briefcase, she set it on the oak coffee table in front of her, and opened the file. Amongst typed reports and a Bright Beginnings application was a candid photograph of her young client. The picture of Chad depicted a smiling, healthy nine-year-old boy, but there was an acute sadness in his brown eyes, a sense of loss that reached out and grabbed at Lauren’s heart. She pushed the image across the coffee table toward the man standing a few feet away, hoping the snapshot had the same effect on Rafe’s emotions.

  His gaze flickered briefly over the picture, then returned to Lauren, his features remaining as hard as granite.

  “This is Chad Evans,” she explained, unwilling to admit defeat so soon. “When he was six his father took him to the Grubstake Days PRCA Rodeo in Yucca Valley, California. You won the bull riding event that day, and when he approached you afterward you signed his program for him.”

  “Do you expect me to remember one kid out of a thousand?” He asked, his tone defensive.

  “I’m not asking you to remember Chad. I’m telling you this story because I want you to realize how special you made that day for him. You completely captivated him. After that rodeo he managed to follow your progress through the Internet and trade publications.” She smiled, absently touching the picture of the young boy. “Chad has quite an impressive scrapbook that spans the last two years of your career.”

  He tucked his hands beneath his arms, and the muscles across his bare chest flexed with the movement. “As short lived as it was.”

  She offered a kind smile. “It ended on quite a crescendo.”

  Darkness brewed in his gaze, and she headed off those volatile emotions before they sparked. “Six months ago, Chad lost both of his parents in a tragic car accident. He was an only child, and he has no relatives, so he’s been in foster care since their death. He’s listed with an adoption program, but most couples don’t want a child as old as he is. Chances are, he’ll be shuffled through the system until he’s eighteen, then he’ll be on his own, with no family to speak of.”

  She glanced up in time to catch a shadow of compassion cross his expression, as if he understood a little of what the boy might be going through. Optimism bolstered her. “Chad admires you. As a person, a champion bull rider, and for risking your own life to save that kid’s when that bull threw him.”

  He stiffened, his jaw tightening. Before he could issue a heated response, she hastily wrapped up her speech. “After everything Chad has been through, I wanted to grant him a special request, something that will make his future seem a little brighter. All he wants is to meet you, and spend a few days on a real ranch—”

  “No.” His tone was harsh.

  “He’s a wonderful boy—”

  “No.” Harsher, still.

  “Doesn’t a little boy’s request mean anything to you?” she argued, not above using guilt to coerce him.

  “I’m not the hero he believes I am,” he stated in a dangerously soft voice. “And this ranch isn’t equipped for kids.”

  Refusing to let him think he could intimidate her, she stood and approached him, feeling reckless enough to challenge him. She stopped so close she had to tip her head back to look up into his face. Close enough to draw in the warm male scent of him, to feel the heat of his body. Close enough to see the awareness flare to life in his pewter eyes.

  She was too close. He radiated unadulterated male magnetism, raw and untamed. Her pulse quickened, and a distinct tingle shot through her. She struggled to get herself, and the situation, back in her control.

  “One boy, Mr. Dalton, not a whole slew of them,” she said in a calm, even voice. “Chad is so enamored of you he’d take what few crumbs of time you had to offer and be thrilled with just watching you.”

  He eased his breath out between gritted teeth, the gesture rife with frustration. “What you do is very noble, Ms. Richmond, but Chad is better off remembering the glory days, rather than spending time with some washed up bull rider.”

  She shook her head. “He doesn’t think of you as being washed up—”

  “Exactly,” he stated succinctly. “He thinks of me as the glamorous bull riding champion I was a year ago, a cocky cowboy who believed he had the world at his feet . . .” He let the words trail off for her to absorb, then continued just as ruthlessly. “Well, guess what? I am washed up. I’m not a celebrity any longer. I’m a simple cowboy who breeds and raises Quarter Horses and prefers to be left alone. There’s no glamour here, no glory, and certainly no hero.”

  So much hostility surrounded him. And the curious thing was, his animosity seemed self-directed, as if he was living some kind of private hell and didn’t want anyone to intrude. Beneath all that anger, there had to be some kindness in him, some glimpse of the friendly, warm-natured man Chad had spoken about so enthusiastically.

  She tried one more time to reach him, to convince him how important this simple request was to one little boy. “Mr. Dalton—”

  “Your fifteen minutes are up,” he said abruptly, shoving off the doorjamb to move away.

  Without thinking of the implications, she reached out and grabbed his arm before he could escape. His flesh was hard and hot beneath her hand, his strength evident in the flexing of muscle against the tips of her fingers.

  He stopped and turned back to her, his eyes catching fire as they clashed with hers—not with anger this time, but a more primitive emotion that touched her on a purely feminine level. That very direct, male look sent a warm shiver through her that curled low in her belly. The sensation was as shocking as it was intimate, especially since he was virtually a stranger. He appeared just as perplexed by the sensual undercurrents shimmering between them.

  Not willing to analyze something so bewildering as her attraction to such a complex man, she let go of his arm and kept her mind firmly on business. “Won’t you please take a few days to reconsider your decision?”

  “No.” This time, his tone lacked its original harshness. “And I apologize for not responding to your letters because it would have saved you a wasted trip.”

  Just when she thought the man had no redeeming qualities, he had to reveal a more gracious side. The contrast from bad guy to nice guy intrigued her. “I would have made the trip anyway. Like I said, I’m persistent and stubborn, so don’t be surprised if you hear from me again.”

  “Don’t waste your time on me.” The scowl on his face didn’t quite reach his eye
s. “I’m not worth pursuing.”

  She was beginning to seriously doubt that, but issued no verbal argument. Yes, the man seemed surrounded by some kind of personal torment and snarled when someone got too close, but Lauren suspected it was his way of dealing with whatever private demons were provoking him. She’d seen the same kind of reaction in angry young children. Adults were no different in dealing with their pain.

  He looked tired and weary. Drained even. Emotionally and physically. She decided to leave well enough alone, and hoped over the next few days he’d read the letters she’d sent him. If he learned more about Bright Beginnings and how he could make a tremendous difference in the life of a young boy, maybe he’d change his mind.

  She moved back to where she’d been sitting, gathered the picture and information about Chad, and slipped it back into the file folder. Once everything was tucked back into her briefcase, she faced Rafe again. “I’d planned on spending the night in a hotel in Cody, but I’m too exhausted to make the two hour drive back. Is there a place nearby that I can stay?”

  “The Lazy Daze motel is back about five miles, right at the edge of town next to Fran’s Diner.” He hesitated, then added, “It’s not a very luxurious motel.”

  She smiled, ignoring the way he stereotyped her. “I’m not looking for something to rival The Ritz, Mr. Dalton, just a bed to sleep in for the night. I’m sure the Lazy Daze will be fine.”

  They walked to the foyer quietly, and he opened the screen door for her to pass through. She stepped outside, then stopped and turned to face him again.

  “Please think about my client’s request, Mr. Dalton, and if you change your mind, you can reach me at the motel until tomorrow morning. My flight back to Los Angeles leaves at three, so I’ll be gone by noon.” Retrieving a business card from a side pocket in her briefcase, she handed it toward him. “And here’s my card with my cell and work phone numbers, just in case you need to contact me.”

  He took the card, but didn’t give it a second glance. “I suggest you head back to the city where you belong, and find yourself another hero for your client.”

  “I wish it were that simple.” She smiled regretfully. “Unfortunately for all of us, you’re the only one Chad wants.”

  Chapter Two

  Rafe stood out on the porch, shoulder braced against a wooden column. Hitching his thumbs into the front pockets of his jeans, he watched Lauren Richmond make her way to her rental car as the evening sun slowly made its descent toward the horizon.

  Despite her unwelcome intrusion into his life, he couldn’t help but admire her. The woman was passionate about what she believed in, and confident about accomplishing her goal, regardless of the obstacles. She came across as professional and polished, and possessed an elegance he suspected was inbred. It showed in the educated way she spoke, the keen intelligence in her pretty blue eyes, the cosmopolitan way she looked, and especially the way she walked.

  Yeah, especially that, he thought appreciatively as he took in the natural, subtle sway of her hips and those long, sleek legs as she strolled toward her car.

  A rumble of interest gripped him, the same heat and desire that had taken hold when she’d laid her hand on his. The instantaneous attraction that leapt between them had been startling—enough to throw him completely off-kilter. He’d been too long without the comforts of a woman, too long without someone to ease the loneliness that came with voluntary confinement.

  She was the last kind of woman he should want, yet the first woman who’d affected him on an emotional and physical level since his rodeo days. City sophistication and rough-hewn country didn’t mix, as he well knew. And then there were the other flaws in his character that would no doubt shock her well-bred sensibilities.

  She believed he was a hero. That was the biggest reason of all to avoid her, and the young boy who believed such fanciful notions. True, he’d saved that young bull rider’s life, but there had been nothing courageous or noble about the deed to warrant a heroic title. Pure guilt had spurred him to leap into that pen to rescue Keith, despite the threat of an enraged bull charging anyone who dared to enter his domain. Rafe had been so horrified for nearly killing a young kid that he’d been blind to the danger of the situation.

  Keith had escaped with a concussion and minor injuries. Rafe had paid a steeper price for his ambition and aggression. His actions had cost him his career.

  But losing the ability to compete was nothing compared to the disturbing revelation his own brush with death had brought. As he lay in the hospital recovering from the deep wound in his thigh, compliments of Cyclone’s well-aimed horn, he’d faced the awful, bitter realization that he was more like his old man than he ever wanted to believe.

  Even now, the thought burned in his stomach like acid.

  Rafe focused back to the present just as Lauren slipped gracefully into her rental car, blonde hair swaying silkily along her shoulders, then started the engine. She looked his way, a small, friendly smile curving her mouth. She gave him a polite wave good-bye, and he squelched the automatic urge to lift his hand in response. For as brash and rude as he’d been inside the house, there was no point in being courteous now and offering her any false encouragement that he might change his mind about the boy and his request.

  She turned her car around and headed for the dirt drive just as a blue truck crested the hill and ambled toward his house. The two vehicles passed slowly, the women in each turning their heads to glance curiously at the other.

  His sister had impeccable timing.

  Rafe released a harsh breath between his teeth. Great. Just what he needed after his draining visit with Lauren Richmond—an interrogation from his inquisitive sister on who Lauren was, and what she was doing at his ranch. After having his emotions rubbed raw by Ms. Richmond’s visit, he wasn’t in the mood to deal with his sister’s brand of cross-examination.

  It was inevitable, he knew. Kristin cut him no slack, especially since the incident with the bull that had forced him to come back home and reevaluate his life. She verbally poked and prodded him whenever the opportunity presented itself, which, unfortunately, was often, since she and her husband, James, lived on the Dalton family ranch that adjoined his property.

  His sister parked the pick-up next to his, slid out of the cab with a white casserole dish in hand, then headed toward the porch. Climbing the stairs, she gave him a once over that was both chastising and mischievous.

  “Geez, Rafe, have you become so uncivilized that you can’t throw on a shirt while entertaining a guest?” A slow grin lifted, right along with a perfectly arched brow. “Or was that woman more than a guest?”

  The insinuation in his sister’s voice was unmistakable. He blinked lazily, maintaining a bland expression. “Does ‘mind your own business’ mean anything to you?”

  Unoffended by his brush-off, humor filled her eyes. “As much as I don’t condone casual flings, it sure is nice to know that you’re still human enough to enjoy a woman’s company.”

  “It’s not what you’re thinking.” He found having his sex life scrutinized by his sister decidedly disconcerting. Especially since he didn’t have a sex life to speak of. “She’s not what you’re thinking.”

  “Well, then?” she prompted impatiently. “Who is she, and what does she want with you?”

  In an attempt to avoid her barrage of questions and distract her, he took the casserole dish from her hands. The sight of pork chops and the mouth-watering stuffing his sister made had his stomach growling. “I wish you’d quit making extra food so you can bring me your ‘leftovers’.” It was a lie, but a good one to divert her attention. “I’m perfectly fine with my frozen dinners.”

  She scoffed at that, and smacked him lightly in the stomach. “The least you could do for yourself with all that money you horde is hire yourself a cook.”

  “Now why would I waste my money hiring a cook when you do it for me?” he asked in a deep, lazy drawl.

  “Stop trying to change the subject, Rafe.�
� Green eyes narrowed shrewdly, and she shook a finger at him. “I find a woman out here after you’ve isolated yourself from the entire town for the past year, the single, available women included, and you act as though it’s no big deal.”

  Rafe’s mouth thinned in growing annoyance. “Trust me, I didn’t invite her.”

  “Ah, that makes this even more interesting,” she said, then added on a mocking note, “How dare she ignore that threatening sign you posted out front. I’m amazed she survived that dark scowl of yours, and your blacker mood.”

  He summoned an ominous glower just for her, then turned on his heel and headed into the house, letting the screen door slam shut behind him. She followed, dogging his steps all the way into the kitchen.

  “So, what could a classy woman like her want with someone as moody and unsociable as you?” she asked, picking up where the conversation left off outside.

  He set the casserole dish on the counter, feeling the sting of her deliberate words. Knowing there was no point in avoiding the inevitable discussion, he told her the truth about Lauren, and Chad’s request, and how the nine-year-old boy had followed the last two years of his career, right up until the end.

  Kristin took a seat at the small oak table in the kitchen, her soft smile holding a bit of pride. “You must have made quite an impression on him.”

  “So it seems.” He rolled his shoulders, wishing he could roll off the unwanted burden of Lauren’s request as easily. “But I’m certain it won’t last once she tells him I’m not available.”

  “You refused?” Kristin asked incredulously.

  Guilt clouded Rafe’s conscience, and he immediately pushed the offending emotion aside, telling himself he was saving the kid a wealth of disillusionment by declining his request.