Chapter 2 #2
She opened her mouth to argue, then glanced down at the wheels of her luggage, buried in gravel, and then at the porch with its six steps. That was a long distance to drag her suitcases through unforgiving rocks.
“Fine,” she conceded before pointing a commanding finger at him. “But only to the steps.”
“Deal. Again, I’m Dax.”
Turned out it took both of them to wrestle the bags to the steps. He provided the steady anchor. She provided the narration and the instructions, not to mention the occasional scolding of the duffel bag.
Once everything was lined up at the base of the porch, he stepped back.
“I’ll let you do your thing,” he said, retreating with an amused look.
“Appreciated,” she called, already back at work, stacking the bags. Once she finished, she put her hands on her hips and surveyed her work. It was beautiful. Balanced. Delicate yet defiant. It was damn near a modern work of art.
That was when the feeling hit. That prickle between her shoulders, a warning that someone was watching. She glanced around, scanning instinctively… and then she saw him.
At the far end of the building, a tall, broad-shouldered man stared at her.
His tanned skin hinted that his hat might be the mark of a real cowboy.
His flannel shirt was tucked neatly into a pair of worn, faded jeans that were just tight enough to be sexy.
And to top it off, he had a beard. Not a full mountain-man beard, but no five o’clock shadow either. She loved beards.
But he was staring at her. Well, he wasn’t staring openly, but that somehow made it worse. Her stomach flipped. Automatically, her mind began to catalog the things he saw that he might like and the things that would make him judge her before he’d even met her.
Nope. Absolutely not.
She had sworn off men. Sworn. Oaths had been made. Intentions had been declared, and there may have been snacks sacrificed.
Still… she smiled.
It slipped out before she could stop it. And not just any smile. No, one of her brightest, most unguarded smiles. His gaze met hers, and for one dangerous second, something electric passed between them.
She broke eye contact first. Looking had been a bad idea. Cowboys were dangerous and a gateway to trouble.
She adjusted her front pack, patted Sniffles for courage, and gripped the handle of her unicorn suitcase tight. She could do this. One step. Then two. By the time she reached the porch at the top of step six with her last suitcase, her heart was racing, but not from the weight.
She didn’t look back. Nope. She squared her shoulders, pushed them back, and stepped inside. Whatever waited for her here, she’d face it head-on. Probably running, but still… head-on.
There was more going on in the lobby than on the playground at recess back home. People were everywhere. It wasn’t exactly crowded. Nothing about the resort felt cramped, but it was… lively in a way Fiera couldn’t ignore.
Littles walked and skipped through the lobby in loose sundresses and soft leggings, or in T-shirts and shorts.
Most clutched precious stuffies to their chests.
Their Daddies and Mommies moved beside them or just behind, hands resting on their Littles’ backs or fingers loosely curled around their Littles’ hands.
Fiera stopped just inside the door, her body reacting before her thoughts did.
Unless you were in a library, lots of people meant lots of noise.
In a room as large as this lobby, voices overlapped, making it hard to distinguish conversation from laughter, which spiked sharper.
Reacting out of habit, she shifted to the side so she stood with her back to the wall rather than the glass doors.
Still, the light in the room reflected off glass and polished wood, bouncing in places she hadn’t anticipated. Her eyes watered as she tried to adjust. Jeez! People were going to think she was a baby.
Holding the handle of her suitcase in a death grip, she tilted her chin down a notch to ease the glare. With her other hand, she brushed her thigh. She had this. She slowed her breathing and swallowed.
She should have expected it, but she hadn’t thought it would hit quite this hard. She’d read the website. She’d scrolled through the photos. She knew, intellectually, what Rawhide Ranch looked like. But pictures and real life were different.
Of course, the lobby was busy. People came here to be seen. Not just physically… really seen, in ways they couldn’t be at home. She’d told herself she was here to rest. To reset after a long semester teaching kindergarten back in Wilder.
She hadn’t told herself the whole truth.
It wasn’t like she couldn’t be Little in Wilder. Almost everyone there was a Little or a Big in some configuration. But there, she was the steady one. The patient one. The voice that explained and soothed and redirected. And not just in her classroom.
She loved her kids, sticky fingers, big feelings, and all.
Truthfully, she understood them better than most adults.
But loving them meant wearing Big shoes all day long.
It meant rules and routines and watching for the moment things tipped too far.
It meant carrying responsibility so layered that she sometimes forgot what it felt like to set any of it down.
To her right, she spotted a Little tugging on her Daddy’s sleeve, being gently but firmly stilled by the hand on her back. Her Daddy didn’t apologize or explain. No, with one touch, he let her know he was in control.
Fiera’s chest tightened. She had never wanted to be the center of attention, but she longed for a real Daddy who could take loving control so she could be Little.
She wanted someone else to set the physical and emotional boundaries so she didn’t have to manage them herself. Someone predictable and steady. She wanted someone else to be in charge, someone who cared enough to stop her from going too far or too hard.
Fiera loosened her grip on her suitcases and moved forward. Her eyes adjusted, almost, and then she promptly collided with someone as soon as she’d moved. The woman bounced off her with a startled oof and would have gone down if Fiera hadn’t dropped her bags and caught her by the arms.
She was small and pixie-like, with short brown hair and bright eyes, like something straight out of her castle coloring book. The woman steadied herself and blinked up at Fiera, then down at the abandoned pile of luggage.
Here it comes. The careful look. The softened voice. The offer to sit down as if I’m an invalid.
Fiera braced herself, preparing to explain, once again, that she was fine and could manage on her own.
Instead, the woman extended her hand and smiled. “Hi, I’m Erika. You must be Fiera. I love your name, by the way. I’m a huge Wicked fan. I was actually on my way to greet you when we, um, met.”
It took a second for Fiera to realize that Erika wasn’t managing her. She was greeting her. Fiera let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and took the offered hand. “Sorry,” she said quickly. “I should have… I mean, I wasn’t looking where I was… um, where I was going.”
Erika laughed easily. “You’re fine, sweetheart. This is your first visit, right?”
Fiera nodded, heat creeping into her cheeks. Had she already made a spectacle of herself? It was probably because she was now wearing her shoulders as earrings. “Is it that obvious?”
“Just a touch,” Erika said kindly, glancing at the tower of luggage. “But that’s okay. You’re in the right place.”
Erika’s confident, straightforward tone relaxed Fiera’s shoulders. Erika led her to the check-in counter. The process was efficient and friendly. Fiera’s name was already on the list.
Before she knew it, a keycard lay cool in her hand, and a folder containing a schedule of the regular activities, printed on thick paper and stamped with little horses in the corners, nestled in her backpack. The structure of the sign-in process reassured her.
“Your room is on the second floor and down the hall to the right,” Erika said as she gestured to where the elevators were located. “If you want help with your bags, I can call Moses. He’s the best at handling luggage, among other things.”
Fiera smiled, managing to look steady. “That’s all right. I’m good.”
Erika’s smile lingered, as if she didn’t entirely believe her but wasn’t willing to challenge it. She just nodded and let Fiera go.
Fiera collected her bags and headed toward the elevator feeling a bit guilty about fibbing to such a nice person. Because Fiera was not, in fact, good.
But she was still standing. For the first time since she arrived, she had the distinct, unsettling sense that this place might notice if she fell and stop her before she hit the ground. But that was what she wanted.
Right?