Page 23 of Finding Little Fiera

Mace admired Fiera’s grit. He’d known Laura’s words hurt his girl as soon as her shoulders drooped, but she hadn’t lashed out in kind. After the door shut, Mace crouched to stand eye to eye with his girl. “I’ve never been more proud of anyone in my life, firefly. Are you okay?”

She nodded, but her thumb slipped into her mouth. He hadn’t seen her do that before, but it made his heart hurt. Not because he minded her sucking her thumb. He didn’t mind that a bit. But he knew it meant she was hurting.

He kept his voice steady and gentle. Protectiveness wasn’t a big enough word for what filled him. Especially over a woman he’d only known for a day. He searched her face, memorizing every flicker of feeling, ready to assure her that, whatever she felt was okay—sadness, fear, or both—he was here for her.

She gave him a sad smile that damn near broke his heart. “I’m okay, Daddy. You were right. We just have to give her a little more time.” She searched his eyes before gutting him with her next words. “I’m sorry I put you through that. It was a lot.I’ma lot. Are you okay?”

Her words slipped between his ribs like a quiet blade, sharp and precise, piercing his heart. She was comforting him, aftereverything that had just happened? Who had taught her it wasn’t acceptable to be vulnerable and admit she was hurting? Or that everything was her fault?

But Derek had already provided the answer to that question. When he got to Wilder, he was looking up Erwin Pierce and teaching him a few things about how a real Daddy responded when his Little was wronged.

The instinct to downplay what she was feeling was something she’d learned to do, he realized. A survival skill wrapped in sweetness and resilience. His jaw tightened as resolve locked into place. That burden was no longer hers to carry. Not here. Not with him.

She deserved protection fierce enough to give her the freedom to be herself. And God help anyone who tried to rush her, pressure her, or take one more piece of her somewhat spirited version of gentleness for granted.

“I want to talk more about what happened later, but right now we have a campfire to enjoy. Ready to go have fun?”

Nodding, she said, “You bet’cha.”

“Me too, but first, let’s make sure you’re not gonna catch a chill.”

When he presented her sweater, she looked at him like he was at least a tad bit crazy. Daddy, it’s abonfire.I won’t get chilled.”

“I know you won’t because you’ll be wearing this,” he said, giving the sweater a slight shakeas he held it out so she could slip her arms into the sleeves. By the time they reached the edge of the clearing, the bonfire was already crackling. Derek hadn’t taken the subtle track. No tidy propane flames contained within fake logs. Nope. This was a real fire, and not a small one.

Rawhide Ranch clearly didn’t believe in half-measures. The flames leapt high, sparks spiraling into the Montana evening sky like stars fighting for their place. The scent of burning pinerolled through the air, thick and familiar, stirring childhood memories of life on his ranch.

On their way over to the campgrounds, Mace had slowed his steps without consciously deciding to. His stride shortened, and his pace slowed to match hers. His body had already keyed itself to her rhythm. And it happened faster than it probably should have.

He wasn’t one to rush into things. He was steady and measured. It was one of the things that made him a good Daddy. But with Fiera, it was like he’d forgotten how to pull the reins back on his emotions.

Firelight danced across her face, catching in her eyes, turning that impossible blue even brighter, making them almost electric. They were curious, but not nervous. And no longer withdrawn, even knowing what the night still held in store after the bonfire was over. No, she was watching him as closely as he watched her.

“You’re quiet,” he said, tilting her head up to look at him.

“I’m thinking,” she said before grinning up at him. “Most people think that’s dangerous.”

He barked out a laugh. “I can only imagine why.”

Logs and rough-hewn benches dotted the clearing, dragged into a loose circle close enough to the fire to keep warm but far enough back that nobody risked singeing an eyebrow. Littles clustered in small groups, laughter rising and falling, while their Daddies hovered nearby or sat with their guitars balanced across their knees, already tuning them.

The evening breeze carried the scents of smoke, melting chocolate, and the night-cooled trees. The area buzzed with that low-level, happy chaos that only existed in places where people felt safe enough to be themselves.

Fiera’s grip tightened around his fingers, drawing his attention back to her.

“Oh! There they are,” she said, bouncing on her toes just like every Little he’d ever known.

He scanned the crowd, then followed her gaze and realized what the excitement was about. He should have known.

“See, Daddy. Sadie and Master Derek, see? And there’s Wren and her Daddy. And Daisy and… I think I heard her say her Daddy’s name was Rett!”

Her excitement was immediate and unfiltered, and it hit him square in the chest. There was no sadness in her voice. Just pure, joyful exhilaration. God bless the resilience of Littles.

“Can we sit with them? Can we? Um… please?” She looked up at him, bouncing on her toes with hope filling her eyes and her voice, despite how hard she tried to keep it light and casual, like it didn’t matter all that much.

But it mattered. He could see that as clear as day.

Mace followed her gaze. He knew all of them now, except for Rett. Derek had mentioned the day before that his cousin, Rett Hawkins, would be visiting the Ranch for summer camp with his Little girl, Daisy.