Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Mace staked the last cone into the ground and stepped back, hands on hips, surveying the field.
Orange traffic cones pretending to be barrels created four wide cloverleaf patterns across the sun-bleached grass in the clearing.
The same posts from the bull race stood at the far end, casting a long shadow toward camp.
The mountains cut a hard, jagged line against the bright Montana sky.
He should be thinking about the logistics of the upcoming race.
He needed to review the timing and ensure all safety protocols were in place.
Instead, his gaze was fixed on tracking his little firefly.
Fiera stood with Sadie, Wren, and Daisy near the water cooler, her medal still hanging around her neck.
She had been adorable at lunch. He’d told her not to be a showoff with her medal.
Obviously, he should have been more specific.
She didn’t wave it around or hold it out for people to congratulate her, but somehow she’d managed to walk around with her chest stuck out as far as she could, pretending to be surprised when people noticed.
Now she was animated, hands flying as she talked, sunlight catching in her hair like it had been spun there on purpose.
He must have made his point about her sunglasses because they were perched on her button nose.
It took restraint not to tip them back up on her head so he could see those incredible eyes.
His chest tightened. He liked watching her. A lot.
There was something about her that didn’t settle quiet inside him. No, she filled him with sparks that could cause a flame if he wasn’t careful. Was he ready to be swept away after two days?
He’d spent years being the steady one, the grounded one. The man who didn’t bend, didn’t sway, didn’t soften. That steadiness had driven more than one Little crazy. They told him he was too strict, too structured. Too Daddy.
But Fiera?
She leaned into it. It was like she’d been waiting for someone solid enough to hold her storms at bay. Or at least help her navigate through them. With all that spirit, all that bright, defiant fire held inside? Lord help him, she needed a keeper.
And he wanted the job.
He dragged a hand down his jaw. She’d laughed during that last race. Not the tight, forced laugh she’d used on the bouncy bull. That one had been filled with competitiveness.
This one was freer. Like she was starting to trust that she didn’t have to win to matter. He liked that more than he should. He would have to figure all that out later. It was time for the last section of games to begin. “All right!” he called, clapping once. “Littles, bring your stick horses.”
Groans and delighted squeals rose together. He grabbed the upturned wooden bucket and set it in the center, stepping up so he could see over the crowd. That’s when he noticed it.
Fiera’s sunglasses, the ones she’d been wearing exactly like she should minutes before while she was standing in the shadows, were now perched on top of her head.
If his scowl brought his brows any lower, they were going to get tangled in his eyelashes. That made three times today. Why on earth would she wear them properly in the shade, but break the rule when she stepped into the sunshine?
Did she think he wouldn’t address it since he had to start the next race? Was she testing him? If either of those were true, she was in for a big surprise.
He hopped down and strode across the grass toward her. The second she spotted him coming, she straightened and held out both hands as if she could magically stop him. Yeah, good luck with that.
“Daddy, don’t,” she muttered under her breath.
He stopped in front of her, arms crossed and stared at her sunglasses.
Ball’s in your court, firefly. How are we going to play this?
Her chin lifted, and those luminous blue eyes met his, daring and soft all at once.
Without a word, he reached up and slid the sunglasses down from her hair to the bridge of her nose. “That’s three.”
Her lips parted. “Three?”
“Three reminders to wear your sunglasses in the sun.” His voice dropped. “Three’s the one that’s gonna cost you.” The flush that crept up her neck was mesmerizing.
Behind her, Wren stage-whispered, “Ooooh.”
Sadie elbowed her, and Daisy giggled. His naughty girl didn’t seem to see anything funny about it. Good, that meant she was learning.
Fiera swallowed but didn’t look away. “Yes, Daddy. Sorry.”
The words hit him square in the gut. He stepped back before he did something reckless like kiss her in front of God and everybody.
So, he returned to the bucket and his duties.
The idea that she would be thinking about what was going to happen when they made it back to the cabin shouldn’t make him chuckle, but it did.
That and the knowledge his little firefly didn’t have any clue what he had planned for her.
“Okay,” he called out, voice carrying. “Here’s how this works.
You are going to make four lines. You’ll be timed individually.
Ride your stick horse from the starting line to that cone”—he pointed toward the one in the middle of the clearing—“circle it clean, then head to circle the cone on the left, then circle the one on the right, then head to the post on the far side we used this morning. Round the post, then head back to the starting line. The riders with the fastest five times get prizes.”
A chorus of exaggerated whinnies erupted. One of the Littles stomped like a charging stallion. He loved the freedom of expression that came with Little space.
Wren tossed her hair and yelled, “Hyah!” and Sadie stretched out her muscles. Daisy neighed so loudly that a couple of Daddies laughed from the sidelines.
Fiera cupped her hands around her mouth and let out a dramatic rodeo yell that made his lips twitch. She was so damn adorable.
“All right,” he warned, though his tone held amusement. “Keep it safe. No skipping cones or cuttin’ in front of them.”
He scanned the lines as they formed and immediately saw it. Fiera, Sadie, Wren, and Daisy lined up shoulder to shoulder so they would all be in the same heat. If that didn’t start his Daddy senses tingling, the mischief lighting all four faces sure did.
Mace narrowed his eyes. He had no idea what they were planning, but they were planning something. He could feel it, but he’d have to deal with it when it was their turn.
“All right,” he called. “First heat ready?”
The first group ran clean and fast. Wylde kept the times and shouted them out, and Mace wrote them down. They repeated the same process four times, and then it was the Fiera and her friends’ turn.
Fiera’s group stepped up to the start line. Mace studied them and couldn’t see anything amiss. Maybe he was wrong and they weren’t up to mischief. He had his hand on the button to sound the start of their race when Fiera cried out, “Now!”
Too late to stop the race, Mace could do nothing but watch, and they all spun around to face the wrong direction.
Before he could stop them, Sadie screamed, “Let’s go!”
Fiera didn’t look at him. No, she looked at her friends and grinned. He felt the approaching trouble shoot down his spine. Every single one of them took off running backward.
His heart stopped. “Jesus—”
They were going full speed, knees pumping, stick horses clutched tight, heads craned to glance over shoulders. One misstep and they’d go down hard.
He was already moving off the bucket, ready to sprint. And then he saw her face.
Fiera was laughing. Not the careful, insecure laugh. Not the competitive-with-something-to-prove laugh. No, this was wild and filled with pure joy.
Mace couldn’t take his eyes off her. This was a side of his little firefly he hadn’t seen before. If ever he’d looked at the face of pure joy, it was now.
Fiera skipped hard through the cones, the end of her stick horse digging into the grass, her hair flying, sunglasses miraculously staying put as she ran backward like she’d been born doing it.
She wasn’t calculating what it took to win, which was good because that ship had sailed. Riding backwards on a stick horse might be fun, but it wasn’t fast.
She wasn’t on the lookout for Laura. Or checking to see if any of her friends were ahead of her. She was just… playing.
The sound of her laughter rolled across the field, bright and unguarded. And damn if it didn’t punch straight through his ribs and grab his heart.
Sadie nearly tripped and shrieked, correcting at the last second.
Wren went down yelling, “I regret nothing!”
Daisy walked her stick horse, cackling uncontrollably.
They made it to the final post in a chaotic cluster, somehow circled it—still running backward—and sprinted back the same way.
By the time they crossed the line, half the campground was doubled over laughing. Mace included. He couldn’t have stopped if he tried.
The girls were dead last, and not one of them cared. Fiera bent at the waist, hands on knees, breathless and glowing. When she straightened, without thinking, she pushed her sunglasses up.
Fun was fun, but hurting her eyes wasn’t happening. Not on his watch. He cleared his throat sharply.
Fiera froze. With her bottom lip caught between her teeth, she lowered them back down.
No one ever said his girl wasn’t smart.
The remaining heats ran without incident. When the final times were tallied and prizes handed out, the four conspirators stood off to the side, whispering and grinning like bandits who’d gotten away with something.
Mace walked toward Fiera, boots steady on the grass. He knew the moment she noticed from the way her smile faltered.
He stopped in front of her, folding his arms. “That was creative.” He worked to keep his voice even. He’d loved seeing her joy, but she could have been seriously hurt.
Her eyes lit. “It was?”
“It was also the closest I’ve come to a heart attack in ten years.”
She blinked.
He narrowed his eyes. “I thought you were gonna crack your head open.”
Her expression softened. “Oh.”
“You run like that again,” he continued, lowering his voice so only she could hear, “and you won’t sit down for a month of Sundays.”
Her mouth fell open. “A month of Sundays?” she echoed faintly.
“That’s right.” Her gaze lifted to a spot in the sky well above his head as she did the math. He saw it happen and waited.
“Wait.” Her brows pulled together. “That’s… that’s like—”
“Over half a year,” he confirmed calmly.
Her eyes went huge. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’ve never been more serious in my life.”
Behind them, Wren snorted. “He would.”
Sadie nodded solemnly. “He absolutely would. I’ve heard that tone before.”
Fiera stared at him like he’d just outlawed breathing. “But we were just playing.”
His gaze softened a fraction. “I know.” He stepped closer, lowering his voice further. “And I loved seein’ you like that. But,” he added firmly, “you scare me like that again, and I’ll remind you real clear what consequences feel like.”
Her breath caught, and a shiver ran through her. He’d been a Daddy long enough to recognize fear when he saw it. She was not afraid. His cock recognized it, too.
“Yes, Daddy,” she whispered.
He brushed his knuckles lightly down her cheek. “Good girl.”
Then he stepped to the wooden bucket and shifted back into camp leader mode. “All right! You have about fifteen minutes until the next event. You aren’t going to want to miss this one. I want everyone to drink some water, and I’ll see you back here in fifteen!”
The Littles scattered. Fiera lingered one heartbeat longer before turning to her friends.
He watched her go. She moved lighter than she had that morning.
As a matter of fact, the way she laughed without checking who might be watching told him she felt lighter, too.
Satisfaction that he’d played a part in that swelled inside him.
That was the moment he knew. There was no chance of his remaining objective about his “temporary Little”.
He was already in deeper than he’d planned.
His little firefly was learning how to play without armor. She was beginning to shine. That made her brave. It also made her vulnerable. He’d be damned if he wouldn’t protect that light with everything he had.