The Bachelor’s Surrender (2 page)

He shifted on his bare feet, transferring his weight to his left leg. “Did it ever occur to you that I’m not interested in whatever it is you’re selling?”

Resentment blossomed within Lauren. How could anyone
not
be interested in her foundation’s purpose? She opened her mouth to issue a scathing reply to such an insensitive, cold remark, then snapped it shut as realization dawned. “Did you even read those letters I sent?”

“Nope.”

He didn’t even have the courtesy to show a little guilt over his negligence. “May I ask why not?”

“Like I said, I’m not interested in whatever it is you’re selling.” His tone held a dose of impatience. “Looks like you wasted a trip, Ms. Richmond.”

Lauren released a stream of breath, but the tension gathering within her didn’t ease. She resented the screen door between them—it made her feel like the solicitor he believed she was—but he didn’t seem inclined to invite her inside.

After the incredibly long day she’d endured, her own tolerance had reached its limit. “Mr. Dalton,” she began, deliberately using a placating tone of voice, as if she were dealing with a small child with a cantankerous disposition. “I’m not here to
sell
you anything. I’m here on behalf of a client. And I would have called first, but your number isn’t listed.”

“You a lawyer?” he asked abruptly, his gaze narrowing with shrewd intent.

If the man wasn’t such a grouch, she would have smiled. Unfortunately, she didn’t think he’d appreciate her humor. “No, I’m a foster care assistant, and I also represent Bright Beginnings.”

Confusion touched his expression, enough to tell her he honestly hadn’t given her letters, or the return address, much of a second glance. “What, exactly, is Bright Beginnings?”

“It’s a special foundation dedicated to offering foster children the opportunity to make a special request, and hopefully make their future seem brighter.” She couldn’t help the pride in her voice. Though she worked for Blair Foster Care Services, Bright Beginnings was her personal baby, a labor of love she’d established from the substantial trust fund her grandmother had endowed to her.

He appeared unmoved. “And what does that have to do with me?”

Lauren realized this was her one chance to sway Rafe, and possibly soften up his surly temperament. What man wouldn’t like to be idolized in the eyes of a young boy? “A client of mine made a Bright Beginnings request, and that was to meet Rafe Dalton, three time PRCA Bull Riding Champion.”

This time she did smile, remembering Chad’s excitement over the prospect of meeting the man he held in such high esteem. It was the first time since Chad’s parent’s death that she’d seen him so happy. The image of Chad’s grinning face and the hope sparkling in his eyes spurred her onward. “You’re his hero, and he looks up to you.”

His body went rigid, and he clenched his fists at his sides. “I’m
nobody’s
hero, lady, got that?”

Startled by his anger, she took a step back, nearly stumbling in her haste. It was like she’d lit a fuse. A very volatile one. The thunderous emotions brewing in his eyes sent a series of shivers racing down her spine, especially since all that ferocity was directed at her.

Grasping for levity to dispel the intensity of the moment, Lauren swallowed hard and found her voice. “Really, Mr. Dalton, it was meant as a compliment, not the insult you make it out to be.”

A muscle in his jaw ticked. “A hero is the last thing I deserve to be called.
Got that
?” he bit out, his rough tone demanding an answer.

A few more worthy names leapt to mind, but she wasn’t willing to provoke him any further by offering them. “Loud and clear,” she managed.

Rafe Dalton certainly wasn’t
her
version of a hero, she thought, keeping the derogatory remark to herself. Everyone looked up to certain people for their own reasons, and though she was seriously questioning Chad’s choice of idol, she couldn’t help but wonder about that carefree, grinning cowboy within the pages of Chad’s scrapbook, and what had happened to make him so bitter.

He straightened and scrubbed a hand over his face, swearing softly beneath his breath as his anger faded away. She watched the transformation, the guilt and pain that reflected in his eyes in the aftermath of such animosity. For a handful of seconds, he gave her the impression of a wounded animal, and then the fleeting glimpse was gone.

She wasn’t ready to give up, not after seeing that the man possessed more vulnerabilities than he wanted the outside world to realize. It was a weakness she used to her advantage.

“Mr. Dalton,” she said softly, imploringly. “I’ve traveled all the way from California to talk to you. I’m tired, hungry, and my feet are killing me, so I apologize if I might have snapped at you.” She heaped the blame on herself, but he wasn’t impressed by her attempt to make amends for their quarrel—of which
he’d
instigated.

She forged on anyway. “I’m also extremely stubborn and persistent when it comes to a client’s request. Won’t you let me come in for a few minutes so we can discuss this situation more . . . rationally?”

He looked at her as if she were out of her mind for wanting to be near him after what had just transpired. “I don’t believe there’s anything to discuss.” His voice was flat, devoid of the heated emotions of before.

“Give me thirty minutes of your time. That’s all I ask.”

He eyed her beneath hooded lashes, wary and reluctant.

She put on her most persuasive expression. “
Please
,” she whispered beseechingly. “Just thirty minutes to explain a little more about Bright Beginnings.”
And to convince you that your help will make all the difference in the world to a lonely, disillusioned boy
.

His lips thinned and he gave his head a shake. “I’ll give you fifteen,” he said gruffly, and pushed open the screen door for her to enter.

His generosity was overwhelming, she thought with dry sarcasm as she stepped inside his house before he changed his mind. If she didn’t manage to soften him up, there was no way she’d introduce Chad to him and dash the boy’s sterling image of Rafe Dalton.

She followed Rafe toward an adjoining room, which gave her a few seconds to appreciate his strong, broad back, the slight swagger of his hips, and well-toned buttocks nicely displayed in soft denim. She’d never gone for the rugged type, but he was certainly appealing—if you overlooked that perpetual scowl on his handsome face, which wasn’t hard to do when a woman had such a physically attractive body to admire.

It was then she noticed a barely perceptible hitch in his walk, and remembered reading in Chad’s scrapbook about the injury that had ended Rafe’s career as a champion bull-rider. He’d been gored in the right thigh by an out-of-control bull while attempting to rescue a young rider who’d been knocked unconscious after being thrown by the beast. Judging by the way Rafe favored his right leg, she guessed the affliction still nagged him—along with the honor of being hailed a hero, a title he’d earned that fateful day. One he clearly scorned.

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.