Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Mace checked his rope twice, once out of habit and once because his mind kept drifting.
The neat coils lay at his feet, the rope supple and familiar in his hands as he flexed it, testing its weight and balance. He had everything he needed: extra loops, gloves, chalk for the posts, and a quiet signal he had worked out with Thorin and Wylde in case a Little tried to rope another person.
But his attention kept circling back to his breakfast with Fiera.
He didn’t make a habit of clocking Littles like inventory.
He’d learned the hard way that people weren’t problems to solve.
But the Little who occupied his thoughts right now was very alluring.
Awareness was part of being a good Daddy, and from the moment he’d tapped her shoulder, something in him had leaned forward.
More Littles made their way back to the area he’d set aside for classes, but his mind was focused on her. Fiera was a good name for her. She certainly had fire. Hell, he had a sneaking suspicion that she was fire with strength and untamed passion.
The fire in Fiera wasn’t defiant. As far as he could tell, she didn’t challenge him for the sake of doing it. No, Fiera’s fire was part of who she was, not a reaction to others. She had an intensity about everything. She moved fast, talked bright, and joked sharp.
Her brattiness, if it could even be called that, was more defensive than provocative. It was like life made a habit of playing with Fiera, too. Her fire was a way to stay ahead of disappointment. It was how she kept herself from being left standing with an empty chair and too much solitude.
He needed to know why. His hands itched to touch her, to comfort and soothe her.
She was a puzzle he wanted to solve so he could be the Daddy she needed.
Even if it was just for the rodeo camp. He’d already figured out she wasn’t acting out to earn punishments.
It wasn’t a game, and she wasn’t putting on a show for attention.
She needed structure from a Daddy who showed up every day.
He could be that and more. Staying objective would be the wise move. The vulnerability in her brilliant blue eyes spoke to the Daddy in him. Damn, he liked her.
He liked how she’d seen through his pancake excuse immediately and agreed to eat with him anyway.
He liked how she’d bristled at the milk, then drank it while glaring, as if daring him to comment.
He liked that she’d followed him to the sink, grumbling, but allowed him to wash her hands properly once she got there.
He grinned. She was standing right where he’d told her to, but she was shifting side to side, putting one foot as far out of the area he’d pointed to as she could.
Fuck, she was cute. More than that, she was smart.
Smart Littles were dangerous, challenging you, forcing you to be better. They made you want more.
He scanned the lasso area, raising his voice to call everyone in. “All right, campers. Gather up. Let’s get eyes on me.” Boots shifted on the grass, rustling as Littles scampered closer. He waited until they settled before speaking, keeping an eye on his little firefly.
Mace started with the basics, describing the stance, the grip, and how the rope should rest easy in the hand instead of fighting you. That done, he moved on to demonstrating how to swing the loop, slow and deliberate, showing how the rope moved when you respected it instead of forcing it.
As he spoke, his gaze flicked to where he’d left Fiera, but she wasn’t there. His jaw tightened. He didn’t raise his voice or stop the demo. He simply glanced around. With the things she’d done to her camp shirt, she should be easy to spot.
He found her several yards away, half-turned toward another Little, her eyes shielded by her hand, her body angled forward as if she were about to take off running.
Holding back a sigh, Mace let his face settle.
If their next discussion went as he hoped, her first rule would be to keep her sunglasses on when she was outside. But now he had a different problem.
She wanted to test the waters with him? He had no problem with that. She’d soon find out he was an excellent swimmer.
Now, how to get her attention without distracting the rest of the class?
Especially when she wasn’t looking at him.
That was easily solved by giving a loud whistle.
She spun to face him, eyes wide. Glancing around, he was satisfied all eyes were on him, keeping her from being the center of attention.
She stared at him, arms crossed over her chest. Anyone would think she was acting like a brat, but her eyes told a different story. She’d been surprised when she turned to face him and found she was no longer close to where he’d told her to be.
He’d been right. She was no brat. That didn’t mean she wasn’t in trouble.
If there was one thing the years had taught him, it was how to throw the Daddy look. He didn’t show anger. There was no need. He just turned down the warmth in his gaze and didn’t smile. All he showed was calm, unmistakable authority.
Fiera felt it. He saw the exact moment she did. Her shoulders stiffened, her head snapped back, and her eyes met his. For a heartbeat, she froze. Then she moved back into place, right where he’d told her to stay.
He gave her a chin lift. Not as a reward or praise, but as a quiet acknowledgment. He finished the demonstration, letting the rope fly clean and true. His loop settled over its target post with a satisfying thud. “That’s the goal,” he said. “You are after control, not speed or force.”
He gestured toward the Littles and their Caregivers. “Let’s take a few minutes now to practice together. On Sunday, we’ll have games and competitions. Lassoing will be part of that, so pay attention now.”
Excited chatter broke out as the Littles grabbed their Bigs and their ropes. Once everyone was paired and practicing, Mace turned back to Fiera. She was watching him, and he could tell by her expression that she was unsure of what came next.
He approached at an easy pace, stopping close enough to be heard without crowding her. “You didn’t stay where I told you to.”
Her chin tipped up. “I didn’t go far.”
“That wasn’t the instruction,” he said calmly.
Her mouth opened, then closed. She huffed, looking away. He waited, giving her time to come to the right conclusion.
Looking down, she scuffed the pointed toe of one boot against the grass. “Sorry,” she muttered. “I moved.”
An unexpected smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “You did,” he agreed. “And you corrected it when you saw me looking at you.”
Her eyes flicked back to his. “I did.”
“That matters,” he said. “Thank you for listening. Next time, I expect you to mind me.”
Her shoulders dropped, and he didn’t know her well enough to tell whether it was from relief or disappointment. They both knew she deserved discipline for disobeying him, but he didn’t have the right to punish her.
Yet.
Hopefully, that would change soon because he’d never wanted to get his hands on a Little more… and not just to punish her.
“Now,” he continued, lifting the rope, “want to learn to throw a lasso?”
Her smile returned, quick and bright. “Yes.”
Maybe it was from her enthusiasm. Maybe it was her adaptability to change. Or maybe it was the way her smile lit her entire face and made her eyes practically glow.
Whatever the reason, his heart rolled over, and warmth spread throughout his body. It had been a long time since he’d been attracted to a Little like this. Before he realized what he was doing, he stepped closer, grasped her chin, and tilted her head up to face him.
Her eyes widened, and then her gaze lowered to his lips. It took everything he could do not to kiss her silly on the spot. But he couldn’t do that. He didn’t even know her. She didn’t know him, either. It was crazy, and he didn’t do crazy things. He made a plan and followed it.
So instead, he moved behind her, careful to keep his distance and hoping she wouldn’t ask him what the hell he’d been thinking. “Lassoing, right. Let me show you the proper hold. Tell me if I’m too close.”
She nodded, her body tensing the moment his arms came around her. Not from fear, exactly, but from alertness. There was something going on here that he didn’t understand, but he adjusted immediately, loosening his hold. He needed her to know he was there to guide, not do it for her.
“That’s good. Now relax your shoulders,” he murmured. “Let the rope do the work.”
He guided her hands, slow and patient. It didn’t take long for her to settle when he gave her time. He needed her to know she was in control. He didn’t force contact. Ever. But damn, he loved the feel of her in his arms.
After they’d practiced for a while, he checked his watch and let out a low whistle.
The sound cut through the dusty warmth of the afternoon sun.
“All right, everyone,” he called, keeping his voice steady.
“That’s enough lasso practice for now. There’ll be opportunities to practice several times before Sunday, but for now, how about some free play until craft time? ”
A cheer went up from the Littles, who were already bouncing on the balls of their feet. Sadie yelled, “Who wants to play tag?”
Wren and Daisy both cried out, “Me, me!”
The chorus of whoops, hollers, and shouts of “not it” told Mace it was settled. He stopped his eager little firefly before she could scamper away. “Master Derek sent word he would like to talk with you. I think now would be a good time.”
Her eyes widened with worry. “I didn’t do anything. Why does he want to talk to me?”
He took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You aren’t in trouble. He just wants to talk.”
Knowing the camp staff had been notified and would step in to take charge, he led her to Master Derek’s office. They reached the large wooden double doors in no time at all.
“Enter,” Master Derek called from his office when Mace knocked.