Susan Mallery Fool's Gold Series Volume One: Chasing Perfect\Almost Perfect\Sister of the Bride\Finding Perfect (113 page)

She wasn't alone. While the information wasn't news, the proof of it made him feel better. He didn't want her to be by herself. He didn't want her to suffer. He'd really been trying to take care of her. Maybe he'd gone about it in an unconventional way, but he wasn't the bad guy in this.

And neither was she.

He stood there for a long time before turning around and heading to his own place. The echo of the laughter stayed with him, making him feel more alone than he ever had before. He missed her. Even if he couldn't be with her, surely he could talk to her. Explain.

Explain what? That his way was better? The truth was Pia deserved more, and that's what ate him up inside. She'd been right to walk away from him, to demand more. He respected her, admired her, wanted her…

But for the rest of it—she needed more than he had left to give.

* * *

T
HE SCHOOL CARNIVAL WAS LOUD
, a crowded funfest with plenty of kids and parents in attendance. Raoul had gone to support all the kids he'd made friends with and found himself dodging dads who wanted autographs or to talk sports.

“Ah, the price of fame,” Dakota said, coming up behind him as he explained that no, he hadn't had his head up his ass during that third-quarter play at his last Super Bowl.

He glanced at her gratefully. “Excuse me,” he told the group of men and grabbed her arm. “I need to talk to Dakota about some business.”

“Using me as a getaway?” she asked.

“Whatever works.” He led her out of the crowd, toward the main building. “The mothers are either snubbing me or telling me I'm a jerk, and the fathers all want to talk about specific plays during games I barely remember. There's no elaborate planning in the middle of a football game. You have to react to what's
happening. If you aren't prepared to trust your gut and go with what you feel is right, you'll never win.”

He paused as she stared at him with rapt attention.

“Oh, please,” she breathed. “Tell me more. Don't leave out any details.”

“Funny,” he muttered, then drew his eyebrows together. “Hey, you're speaking to me. Aren't you supposed to ignore me?”

“I work for you.”

“I thought you'd be pissed about Pia.” Everyone else was.

As she'd promised, Pia had spread the word that she'd been the one to break up with him. The problem was not enough people believed her. Or they assumed he'd done something so awful she'd been forced to end things with him.

“You didn't change the rules,” Dakota said easily. “She did.”

He stared at her, waiting for the “but.”

“Not that you weren't an idiot,” she continued. “If you're not willing to risk your heart for someone like her, you're completely cowardly and stupid. If you can't see you're already in love with her, then you're just dumb.”

So much for having someone on his side. “Tell me what you really think,” he said.

She patted his arm. “You'll figure it out. I have faith.”

He liked her theory, but she didn't have all the information. She didn't understand the past he was fighting.

“Did that guy really want to know if you had your head up your ass?” she asked.

“Those were his exact words.”

She laughed. “I want to say it must be refreshing to have people talk to you like you're a regular guy and not a sports celebrity, but I'm thinking right now you'd enjoy a little reverence.”

“It wouldn't hurt. Want to stick around and be my wingman?”

“Not really. You'll be fine. Chin up and all that. They're people, too.”

“Are you paid by the cliché?” he asked drily.

She smiled and walked off.

Alone in blissful quiet for a few seconds, he thought about what she'd said. About him being stupid for not risking his heart for someone like Pia.

As much as he wanted to give Pia all that she wanted, it wasn't as if there was a switch inside that he could simply turn on and off. He wasn't willing to take the chance again. Period. There was nothing anyone could say or do to change his mind. If that meant losing Pia permanently, then so be it.

He turned to return to the carnival, only to see Peter heading toward him. A short, beefy man trailed behind.

“Hi!” Peter waved his left arm. “Look. My cast is off. And you're right—my arm looks really weird. All scaly and skinny. The doctor says I'm doing really good, though.”

“I'm glad to hear it,” Raoul said, then held out his fist to start their elaborate greeting. The one Peter and Pia had come up with.

The downside of small-town living, he realized. There wasn't going to be anywhere to escape.

“My foster dad wants to meet you,” Peter said in a low voice when they'd finished. “I hope that's okay.”

“Sure.”

Raoul walked over and shook hands with the other man. Don Folio eyed him from under thick, dark eyebrows.

“You've been spending a lot of time with Peter,” he said.

“He's a great kid. Very special.”

There was something about the man Raoul didn't like.

“We appreciate your taking care of him when we were out of town.”

“It wasn't a problem.” Raoul smiled at Peter, who grinned back.

Don dug a dollar out of his pocket and handed it to Peter. “Raoul and I need to talk, kid. Go play a game or something.”

Peter hesitated, then nodded and hurried toward the arcade. Don faced Raoul.

“I can see you have a soft spot for the boy.”

“Sure. I like spending time with him.”

Don raised his eyebrows. “How much do you like spending time with him?” he asked.

Raoul felt a flicker of alarm over the oily nature of the question, but he wanted to see where Don was going with this. “If I could have more personal time with Peter, that would be ideal,” he said slowly.

Don nodded energetically. “I'm a man of the world and I get these kind of things. But the foster care system, they have some rules.”

Raoul ignored the burst of fury that flared up inside
of him. He kept his expression neutral, his body language open.

“The way I see it,” Don continued, “there are options. You want the kid and I don't care if you have him. Only it's going to cost you.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Raoul saw Mrs. Miller approaching. Casually, he stepped to the right to block her path.

“You're saying I can have Peter for a price?” he said just loud enough for the other woman to hear.

She froze, her face going white. He risked a single glance. She nodded, as if to say she was going to stay back and keep listening.

“Sure. And I don't care what you do with him. To each his own.”

“You have a price in mind?”

“Fifty thousand. In cash.” Don held up his hand. “I'm not interested in bargaining on the price. This is a onetime offer. If you don't want him, I can find someone else who does.”

Raoul pretended to consider the offer. “You have a way of clearing this through social services?”

“Sure. I go to Mrs. Dawson and say Peter would be happier with you. You had him before and he never said what happened. The kid knows how to keep a secret, I guess. Boys aren't my thing, but I'm an understanding kind of guy.”

Raoul wanted nothing more than to put his fist in the man's face. It would give him pleasure to grind Don Folio into the dirt.

He didn't know how this man had gotten ahold of Peter in the first place, but it was going to stop now. Today.

Don handed over a business card. “My cell's on the back. You have twenty-four hours.”

Raoul nodded, and the other man walked off. When he was gone, Mrs. Miller hurried up to him. “It's disgusting.”

Raoul closed his hands into fists. “He has to be stopped.”

She pulled out her cell phone and scrolled through the contacts. “I'm calling Mrs. Dawson right now.”

The social worker arrived in less than thirty minutes. Less than ten minutes after that, Police Chief Barns was threatening a very nervous-looking Don Folio. Raoul didn't think they could charge the guy with much—money hadn't actually changed hands—but he wasn't likely to ever take in a foster kid again. At least that was something.

Peter came running toward him.

“I heard,” the boy said, grinning and slightly out of breath. “I'm not going to be with them anymore. You're going to take me.”

Raoul stared at the kid, then held up both his hands. “Peter, I think you misunderstood. You'll be safely away from the Folios and another family will be found for you.”

Peter's expression froze. The happiness faded from his eyes and tears appeared. He went pale and his mouth trembled. “But I want to go with you. I stayed with you before. You're my friend.”

Raoul ignored the sense of being kicked in the gut. “We
are
friends. We'll still be friends and I'll see you at school. But I'm not a foster parent.”

“You were before,” he insisted, the last word coming out on a sob. “You took care of me.”

Mrs. Dawson hurried toward them. “Peter, we need to go.”

Peter lunged for Raoul. For a second, he thought the kid was going to hit him, but instead Peter wrapped his arms around Raoul and hung on as if he would never let go.

“You have to take care of me,” he cried. “You have to.”

Mrs. Dawson shook her head apologetically. “Come on, Peter. I have to get you to the group home. It's only for a few weeks until we find something else.”

Raoul stood there, not moving. Although the boy wasn't doing anything, he still felt his heart being ripped out all the same. People were stopping to stare.

Just when he thought he was going to have to forcibly push the kid away, Peter let go. Mrs. Dawson led him away, and neither of them bothered to look back.

* * *

M
ONDAY MORNING
, R
AOUL
arrived at work at his usual time. Seconds later, Dakota walked in, slammed her purse down on his desk and put her hands on her hips.

“I can't decide if I should quit or back my car over you,” she announced.

He stared at her. “What are you pissed about now?”

“What you did to Peter.”

Raoul didn't want to talk about that. He hadn't slept all night and he still felt as if he'd been hit in the gut. “He's safe now,” Raoul said flatly. “I talked to Mrs. Dawson this morning and from what the psychologists can tell, he wasn't abused by anyone. Folio's threats about giving the kid to someone else were designed to
make me hurry. He's not part of a big child-stealing ring. He's just an asshole.”

She glared at him. “And that's all you see?”

“What else is there?” He knew he sounded defensive, but it was all he had.

“Peter's crushed,” she snapped. “You swept in and saved him. Do you think he doesn't know what you did? You've been there for him all this time. You took him home when he broke his arm. You've been his friend.”

She spoke as if he'd been burning the kid with a cigarette.

“All that stuff is great,” he yelled. “So what's your problem?”

She jabbed him in the chest with her index finger. “You led that poor kid on, you jerk. You let him believe that you cared about him and when they took his foster dad away, he thought he'd be going home with you.”

“You think I don't know that? It was a mistake. All of it.” Getting involved in the first place. He knew better. He did his best work from a distance.

“It wasn't a mistake.” She spoke more calmly now. “Don't you remember what that was like? Packing everything you owned into a trash bag because you didn't have a suitcase and moving on? Do you remember how scary it was to find yourself in a new place, to not know the rules? Now it's happening again. And you've made that reality worse. You let him believe in you, trust you, and it all turned out to be a lie.”

Raoul wanted to protest that he'd never promised the boy anything. That he'd been there in a crisis, but that was all it was. Nothing more.

Only Peter wouldn't have seen it that way, he thought
grimly. He would have expected Raoul to rescue him again.

She shook her head. “I didn't blame you for the Pia thing, but I'm starting to see a pattern here. You play at making a difference, at being the good guy, but none of it is real. You're too afraid to give what really matters. You're all flash and no substance.”

She turned away, then spun back to him. “Do us all a favor. Stay away from ‘causes.' You've already done enough damage here.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

R
AOUL'S DAY OF HELL ONLY
went downhill from there. Dakota left him alone with his guilt. He wanted to do something, hit something—mostly himself. Nearly as bad, he honestly didn't know if she'd stalked off because she was mad or if she'd quit.

He paced back and forth in the large empty space he'd rented, trying to find an answer. But it all came back to the same thing. He'd let Peter believe in him, and then he'd let him down.

About an hour later, when he was still trying to come up with a plan, Mayor Marsha Tilson walked into his office. Normally, she was someone he enjoyed talking to. But there was something about the way she moved so purposefully that made him aware he might not like what she was going to say.

“I've heard what happened with Peter,” she said, getting right to the point. “I must say, I wish things had turned out differently, Mr. Moreno.”

Looking at her, seeing the disappointment in her eyes, was nearly the toughest thing he'd ever done, but he would be damned if he'd allow anyone to make him flinch.

“I do, too.”

“Do you?” she asked. “When you first arrived we were all impressed by your financial generosity,” she
continued, her blue eyes dark with disillusionment. “Your reputation elsewhere was that of a man who cared about others. One who gave back to the community. So when you indicated you wanted to move here, we welcomed you as one of our own.”