Page 7 of Finding Little Fiera

At the stable, Travis swung down first, already loosening Magic’s girth with practiced efficiency. “I’ve got them,” he said, taking Giddy’s reins before Mace could protest. “Go on. Derek’s got paperwork he’s dying to pretend isn’t waiting.”

Derek huffed a laugh as he tipped his hat back. “Well, I’m sorry to say that’s true. I know we talked on the phone, but we need to head over to my office to get it all in writing. Once that’s done, we can seal the deal with a glass of exceptionally fine whiskey.”

Mace dismounted, gave Giddy a final pat, and followed Derek, or Master Derek, as was his official title, down the path toward the main lodge and Derek’s office. They’d barely taken ten steps when the crunch of tires announced an arrival.

A taxi pulled up near the entrance. And then?—

Chaos.

The back door flew open, and a tiny little girl practically exploded from the vehicle, momentum carrying her forward as two suitcases tumbled after her like loyal but clumsy ducklings. One tipped. Another spun. A third appeared from nowhere and joined the fray.

She wore a faded black tank top, with a teal flannel shirt tied around her narrow waist, covering dark denim shorts with frayed hems that showed legs too long for the rest of her. She stumbled, trying to get her bearings, like a colt still figuring out where all its parts went. Scuffed red leather cowgirl boots slapped against the gravel as she scrambled to corral her belongings, her hair doing its best to escape the messy bun perched on her head.

And then Mace saw it. A shocking white forelock, stark against her deep brown hair. It caught the sunlight, demanding attention.

Without waiting for assistance, she slung a canvas backpack over one shoulder, and Mace blinked. Was that a skunk stuffie, held to the front by a strap? There had to be a story there.

The Little—because there was no mistaking her for anything but a Little—stacked her luggage with intense focus, arranging the pieces like one of those old cube puzzles Mace had played with when he was a kid. She adjusted, stepped back, frowned, and tried again.

Derek stopped walking when he realized he was leaving Mace behind. Mace had stopped in his tracks when he saw the young woman and didn’t even remember doing it.

Following Mace’s line of sight, Derek grinned. Amusement threaded his voice as he said, “Yep. Camp has officially started.”

A young man bustled out to meet her, his gestures spoke of his offering to take in her luggage, but she seemed to be refusing, if the way she shook her head was any indication. The young man must have said the magic words because, eventually, she allowed him to take them to the base of the steps.

When she joined him, she watched the young man walk away and began rearranging her suitcases again. Mace didn’t even try to hold back his grin. She was a particular Little girl, now wasn’t she? And feisty. He had a thing for sweet, feisty Littles.

The girl stepped back at last, hands on her hips, surveying her creation with satisfaction. She looked up, caught Mace watching, and grinned. Her face was bright, unapologetic, and entirely unbothered by the commotion she’d just caused.

Mace’s chest tightened. She was chaos in the prettiest package he’d ever seen.

She stood there in the Montana sun, suitcases stacked like a dare, skunk stuffie swinging proudly, and Mace knew the next week was about to be a whole lot more interesting than he’d planned. Mace watched her gather her luggage and march inside to check in. If nothing else, the girl had grit.

Once she’d made it inside, Mace followed Derek back to his office. He tried to shake the image of the girl from the taxi from his mind. It still rode the back of his skull like a burr he couldn’t shake. Chaos in boots, Derek had said. Or maybe Mace had thought it himself. Either way, it fit.

Derek shut the French doors they’d used to enter the office from the private patio and gestured toward a pair of leather chairs on the opposite side of a massive mahogany desk. “Have a seat.”

Mace wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but it wasn’t the large executive office Derek led him into. He stepped around the massive, polished mahogany desk to one of the leather chairs on the other side. The office felt more like a lawyer’s or a business mogul’s than a rancher’s. But the order of it was evident.

Mace sat, spine straight, hands loose on his thighs. He’d learned long ago that the fastest way to gauge a man was to let him talk. Derek poured two fingers of amber liquid into thick-bottomed glasses and handed one over.

Derek raised his glass. “This is wasted on those who gulp.”

Mace lifted the glass and inhaled. The scents of oak, smoke, and a hint of heat filled his senses. Master Derek had a point. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Derek’s smile was brief but approving. He took his own seat, studying Mace over the rim of his glass. “I’ve read your file, but I prefer to hear it from the man himself. You’ll be working with a lot of our Littles, so tell me what being a Daddy means to you.”

Mace didn’t bristle. It was a fair question that showed Derek cared about the people who’d put their trust in him. “I like control and order,” he said plainly. “I’m not one to make rules just to have a reason to punish. My rules make sense and serve a purpose. The main things I focus on are my Little's safety and consistency. I don’t micromanage, but I don’t tolerate testing just for the sake of noise.”

Derek nodded. “And discipline?”

Mace shrugged. “I’m calm, and I try to be kind, even when someone has earned a punishment,” he said, because that part mattered to him. “I don’t yell. But when a spanking is earned, I give the one who’s earned it something they’ll remember the next time they think about doing whatever put them over my knee. I don’t play games when it comes to punishments.”

Derek’s blue eyes sharpened. “Do you enjoy it?”

“I enjoy funishments when everyone knows they’re really meant for pleasure. Giving a punishment? Fuck, no. I don’t think real punishments are ‘fun,’ but I don’t think they’re supposed to be. That doesn’t mean I avoid them when they’re needed.”

That earned him a low chuckle from Derek. “Good answer.”