The Bachelor’s Surrender

by Janelle Denison

  The beautiful Saturday morning was unlike anything California had to offer. Where she was used to dingy smog polluting the air, the vast Wyoming sky was cloudless and so blindingly blue it seemed to stretched for eternity. Birds twittered in nearby trees, broken by a soft neigh of a horse or the squabble of chickens hashing over a kernel of food.

  The calm and tranquility of the country was so different from the obnoxious city sounds she was used to. She loved the serenity, the slow pace, and the wholesomeness that surrounded her. A mild breeze, fragrant with the scent of grass and more earthy elements, drifted through her unbound hair, reminding her of the way Rafe’s fingers had tangled through the strands last night. The sensual memory curled through her, and she resolutely dismissed the luxurious thought before it escalated any further.

  She had little reason to worry about Chad’s welfare. She found her young wannabe cowboy in a corral under a shady awning, standing next to Rafe and a docile mare they were in the process of saddling. Since the two seemed intent on their task—with Rafe instructing and Chad listening and complying with Rafe’s directions, Lauren quietly sidled up to the split-rail fence enclosing the pen and watched the two of them work together.

  Observing Rafe was certainly no hardship; he had a backside she could admire for hours. Broad shoulders sloped down a well-defined back, tapering into a trim waist and lean hips. Soft, faded denim molded to his buttocks and clung to muscular thighs. Though each movement he made was fluid and economical, his entire body was a package of concentrated power and strength that belied the gentle way he stroked his long fingers down the chestnut’s neck, and the soft way he crooned to the mare while Chad buckled the girth. She found Rafe incredibly sexy when he wasn’t pretending his fierce warrior routine.

  A soft, appreciative sigh escaped her, ending on a tiny hum of pleasure that tickled her throat. The unintentional sound caught Rafe’s attention and he glanced over his shoulder, his gaze colliding with hers.

  He wasn’t wearing his Stetson, though at the moment, sheltered from the sun, he didn’t need one. His thick, black hair was combed away from his face, layering softly on the sides and falling along the collar of his t-shirt in the back. The style accentuated the lean lines of his cheeks, nose, and jaw, and drew attention to his lips, which at the moment had lost their hard-edge and appeared full, soft, and giving.

  Something deep within her belly fluttered, warm and exciting.

  The harsh expression that had lined his features the previous evening was gone, replaced by a slight, uncertain frown. Wariness shone in his pewter eyes, along with a good dose of reservation. His stance had turned rigid upon seeing her, cautious, but in no way reflected last night’s brash attitude.

  She offered him a smile.

  He didn’t return the sentiment, though he inclined his head ever-so-slightly in greeting. “‘Morning,” he murmured, his voice a rich rumble of sound that drifted to her.

  She wondered if his polite manners were for Chad’s benefit, and suspected they were. If it wasn’t for her young foster client, she was certain Rafe would have sent her packing last night. “Good morning, Rafe,” she said brightly, determined to keep things amicable between them.

  Chad poked his head from around the other side of the horse, a huge grin on his face. “Hi, Lauren!” he said exuberantly, full of life and energy. “I guess you were the sleepy-head this morning, huh?”

  “Yeah, I guess I was,” she admitted with light laughter. “Why didn’t you wake me when you got up?”

  Chad snuck a peek at Rafe from beneath the brim of his black Stetson, who’d returned his attention back to the mare. “Because Rafe said you were tired, and you’d get up in your own good time.”

  More like he didn’t want to face her this morning, Lauren thought, but declined to comment.

  “I’ve fed the goats and chickens and even mucked out a stall!” Chad announced with more delight than the chores warranted.

  Lauren grinned, and using the gate a few feet away from where she stood, she slipped into the corral and approached the trio. “Mucking out stalls, huh? I guess I did get lucky by sleeping in.”

  “Yep, you did,” Chad said solemnly, as if he took his morning tasks very seriously. “And now that my chores are done, Rafe is going to let me ride Bronwyn.”

  Stopping next to Rafe, Lauren rubbed the gentle chestnut along her snout. “She’s certainly a beauty.”

  As if understanding the compliment, Bronwyn shifted closer to Lauren and nudged her in the arm, then snuffled her neck. Lauren laughed at the fond gesture, and when she glanced toward Rafe with a smile, she caught him watching her, his expression heart-breakingly vulnerable—as if wanted to share in her enjoyment, but didn’t dare. As soon as their eyes met, he immediately averted his.

  “Haul yourself into the saddle, partner,” Rafe ordered Chad, and waited until the young boy had seated himself on top of the horse.

  Chad sat patiently while Rafe adjusted the stirrups for his short legs, looking like a little rodeo cowboy in his hat, western shirt, jeans and cowboy boots. “Will you watch me ride, Lauren?”

  The hopeful note in his voice grabbed at Lauren, reminding her why they were here on Rafe’s ranch—to give this young boy a week of wonderful memories to sustain him for the uncertain years ahead. “Of course I will. I wouldn’t miss this for anything.”

  Finished with the stirrups, Rafe plucked his own hat from a hook on a nearby post, jammed the Stetson on his head, and returned to Chad. Grabbing Bronwyn’s reins, he led the horse into the sun and toward the end of the corral, where he opened a wide gate leading to a few acres of flat, green pasture.

  Lauren followed at a more leisurely pace, listening to Rafe give Chad a few last minute rules before giving him the okay to take off with Bronwyn. Chad turned in the saddle to glance at Lauren, his expression anxious and excited at the same time.

  Knowing he sought her approval, she gave him a thumbs-up sign. “Have fun, kiddo.”

  Rafe patted Bronwyn on the rump, gently urging her forward, out into the pasture. Chad took the lead from there, gradually easing the mare into a trot. As he gained confidence he progressed Bronwyn to a canter, then to a full-fledged gallop that had horse and rider moving smoothly across the open field.

  Rafe moved next to where Lauren had positioned herself at the fence, so she could keep Chad in sight at all times, though she had to shade her eyes with her hand because of the bright sunshine.

  “You ought to get yourself a hat,” Rafe said, his gruff tone making the suggestion sound more like an order. “You’re gonna burn that soft, smooth skin of yours before the week is out.”

  And he would know just how soft and smooth her skin was, considering he’d caressed it the night before. Ignoring the slight kick of her pulse at how near he stood—close enough to touch her—she sent him a brilliant smile. “A little sun never hurt me before, but thank you for caring.”

  Her appreciative comment startled him, and she could see that he wanted to refute the fact that he cared, even about something inconsequential as her fair skin, but to do so would make him look defensive and trivial. No doubt miffed at her deliberate twist in words, his jaw tightened and he glanced away.

  Biting back a grin, she scored herself a minor victory. By the end of next week, she was determined to breach this hard-hearted hero’s resolve. As a foster care assistant, she’d managed to do just that with more foster children than she could count, and though Rafe was a grown man, his scornful attitude was the same—back off and keep your distance, because I don’t deserve anyone’s tenderness or love. She had plenty of experience dealing with this particular defense tactic.

  She followed Rafe’s line of vision to Chad, who’d taken Bronwyn out to the edge of the pasture where the stretch of green grass seemingly disappeared over a small hill. “Will Chad be okay on his own out there?” she asked, worried that the boy might travel out of their sight.

  “He’ll be fine,” Rafe assured her, bracing his forearms on the t
op rung of the fence, the length of his body falling into a deceptively relaxed pose that took the pressure off his injured leg. “I’ve established his boundaries, so he can’t go far. And he’s proven that he knows his way around a horse, so I’m confident he can handle Bronwyn. She’s one of my most docile mares.”

  Silence settled between them, and Lauren struggled for a mutual ground of discussion, something light and easy that didn’t threaten this man’s emotional shields. Something to establish them as friends, which they desperately needed in order to make living with each other for the next week bearable.

  She concentrated on Chad, the one person they had in common. The boy was having a great time riding Bronwyn and showed no signs of exhaustion or boredom. He was a natural in the saddle, very fluid and exceptionally coordinated. Chad whooped in glee as he guided the mare past her and Rafe at a light, smooth gallop. His elation was infectious and made Lauren so happy her chest expanded with a soul-deep contentment.

  “You see that huge smile on Chad’s face?” she asked in a near whisper, unwilling to shatter the wonderful moment that wove through her. “All it takes is one of those carefree smiles from one of my foster clients to make what I do feel so gratifying.”

  He finally looked at her, and although she had to squint against the sun blazing behind him, there was no dismissing the mild curiosity in his pewter gaze. “What you do, meaning granting special wishes for foster children?”

  “Yeah,” she said, nodding. “Right now, here on your ranch, Chad doesn’t have a care or worry in the world, which is exactly the purpose of Bright Beginnings. I know it’s not much in the scope of what he’ll have to face in the future, but this week is something that will hopefully give him some fond memories to look back on.”

  He shifted, turning his upper body toward her, his height and the width of his chest blocking the sun from her eyes. She had the fleeting thought that those mammoth shoulders of his were not only appealing to look at, and even nicer to cling to as she had last night, they served a dual purpose in offering her shade from the sun’s glare.

  His gaze fell briefly to her mouth, and her lips tingled in response to that warm, visual touch. Too easily, she recalled the thrill of his kiss, the delicious heat and fiery passion that had ignited between them. She ached to taste him again, and maybe the next time they’d go slow, let the tantalizing hunger gradually build, and he’d glide those big, callused hands along her flesh, stroke his palms over her sensitized breasts . . .

  “Why do you do it?”

  Her heart leapt into her throat at his question, asked in a husky tone of voice that inspired all kinds of wicked answers. His intense stare unnerved her—she had the oddest feeling his thoughts had taken on a sensual spin, too, and he was trying to escape them.

  “Umm, do what?” she responded tentatively, hoping for a little more information before she made a complete fool of herself with her answer.

  There was the faintest hint of a smile in his eyes, and then it was gone, making her wish he’d allow such a playful gesture to form on his lips so she could see how breath-takingly gorgeous a simple grin made him. “Why do you go above and beyond your job to grant these children their special wishes?”

  Ahh, at least it was a simple, straight-forward question, and not one designed to throw her libido into overdrive as this man seemed to do too darn easily. Smoothing back a stray strand of hair that fluttered along her cheek from the breeze, she glanced back at Chad, remembering the inspiration behind Bright Beginnings.

  “I started with Blair Foster Care Services about five years ago, and it didn’t take me long to develop a special affinity for these young children whose lives have been so emotionally shattered. When they first come to Blair for an interview, they all seem so lost, so alone, and very scared.” Her voice softened with emotion. “Their futures are so uncertain, you know?”

  He nodded, his eyes radiating profound understanding. His silent empathy made her feel as though he’d experienced his own turbulent childhood and knew exactly what a lot of foster children went through. The thought made her more curious about him, but knowing how prickly he became when she asked personal questions, she thought better of pursuing those unsettling emotions in his gaze.

  Lauren, herself, had grown up with every security and advantage a child could ever need or required, and because she’d been so fortunate, she’d wanted to extend some joy and compassion to those less privileged. She just wished her mother understood her aspirations and heart’s desire.

  But that was a large part of the problem—her mother never took the opportunity to understand anything about her daughter’s life, or the time she’d devoted to the foundation she’d established. Her parents thought of Bright Beginnings as a hobby, a way to occupy her time until she got married and settled down to have a family and be the proper wife of some blue-blood.

  Lauren wanted to get married and longed for a family of her own, but she wanted those things with a man who accepted and respected Bright Beginnings as an important part of her life. So far, none of the men Maureen Richmond had hand-picked for her had filled that requirement.

  Not wanting to dwell on those troubling thoughts, she kept her mind firmly planted on the current subject of Bright Beginnings and why she found her work so gratifying. “Most of the kids who are taken into child protective services are removed from their homes because of child neglect, abuse, or abandonment, but there are other circumstances that warrant foster care for a child, such as becoming an orphan. When I meet these foster kids for the first time to interview them, I want to offer them a bit of security, so I set up this treasure chest in my office which I keep filled with all sorts of toys and stuffed animals. The first thing I do is let them select a special toy. It’s a small token gift, but it’s something that will belong to them, and hopefully offer the child a bit of assurance and stability in their new environment.”

  She had Rafe’s complete interest, and marveled at how good it felt to share her beliefs and ambitions with someone who didn’t scorn what she did, or brush it off as insignificant—like her parents, or the men her mother occasionally paraded before her.

  Crossing her arms over the top part of the fence and hooking her boot on the bottom rung, she indulged in Rafe’s undivided attention and continued. “Every once in a while, I come across a child whose situation is beyond the norm, like Chad for instance,” she said, waving a hand toward the boy who was quickly leaving his mark on her. “He lost both of his parents, and since he has no living relatives, he’ll be placed in a foster home until he is either adopted, which I’ve already told you is highly unlikely at his age, or he turns eighteen and is on his own. He’s already been through two temporary foster homes in the past six months since his parents died. He’s got a long, hard road ahead of him, and I really wanted to give him a little joy in his life, which is why I decided to grant this special request of his. And when I see how happy it’s made him, even if it’s just for a week, it makes what I do worthwhile.”

  Rafe tipped his hat back on his head, regarding her speculatively. “I have to say, what you do is incredibly selfless, but how do you do it? I mean, doesn’t it get expensive granting all these wishes?”

  Her shoulders lifted in a small shrug. “I can afford it,” she assured him with a smile. “Bright Beginnings was set-up with a substantial trust fund that was endowed to me by my grandmother two years ago, when I turned twenty-five. I’m an only child, and I was her only grandchild, so she was quite generous in that regard. I’m putting the money toward a good cause, and I’d like to think that if she were still alive, she’d approve of what I do.”

  Unlike Lauren’s mother, who felt she was being frivolous with her money. Despite her mother’s objections to how she’d invested her trust fund, Lauren didn’t regret her decision to originate Bright Beginnings. The foundation brought her as much pleasure as working with the children.

  She exhaled on a long sigh the breeze carried away. “One day, I hope to do more for thes
e underprivileged kids.”

  He cocked his head inquisitively, looking handsome, and very likeable. “Like what?”

  “Something on a grander scale possibly, like a camp, or even purchase land for horseback riding adventures,” she said, unable to contain the excitement infusing her voice. “Something fun that would give these foster kids a start in the right direction.”

  He digested that, but there was a more prying light in his gaze. “You come from money, then?”

  There was no censure in his deep voice, just a mild hunch he openly expressed. “My parents are wealthy, yes, but I like to think I’ve made it on my own, without their financial support. I earn my own paycheck, I financed my own car, and I pay my own rent in an apartment I share with my roommate, Amy. Everything I own I’ve bought with money I’ve earned.”

  Begrudging respect flitted across his expression. “And your parents, what do they do?”

  “My father is a criminal lawyer with his own firm, and my mother works real hard at trying to find me a suitable husband.” She’d used a humorous tone of voice, but the burden of her mother’s interference in her love life was no joke.

  Rafe blinked lazily, and as if seeing past her attempt at levity, asked, “Don’t you want to get married?”

  “Oh, absolutely,” she said without a moment’s hesitation. “But with a man of my own choosing.”

  His smoky gaze flickered down the length of her, taking a slow, leisurely journey that kindled little brush fires of awareness beneath her skin and tightened the tips of her breasts. By the time his eyes returned to hers, her heart beat an unsteady rhythm against her chest.

  “I would think you’d have hordes of suitors to pick from,” he murmured, his tone velvet-smooth and very distracting.

  Struggling not to let Rafe know how strongly he affected her, all with just a look and that rough-and-sexy voice of his, she returned her attention to Chad. The young boy had dismounted Bronwyn and was plucking wildflowers from a patch of bright, colorful blooms blowing in the breeze. A small, pleased smile touched the corner of her mouth, and she experienced relief that the foster care system hadn’t jaded Chad’s sensitive, giving nature . . . yet. The years ahead would take their toll, she knew.