Page 2 of Finding Little Fiera

Derek grunted. “Glad to know you think things through and don’t mind saying so. I like that.”

Mace nodded, appreciating the no-nonsense approach. So far, Derek sounded like a man who said what he meant and expected the same from others. He respected that.

The conversation paused. Mace was about to sign off when Derek said, “Before you get here, Mace, I want to make sure we’re on the same page.” Derek’s tone shifted to something more serious. “You’ve seen the website and you know the kind of guests Rawhide caters to. I know the DDlg dynamic isn’t everyone's cup of tea.”

Mace shifted in his seat. Where was Derek going with this? He looked around to see if life was waiting to hit him with a cream pie or a water balloon. Then his gaze drifted to the vast mountain-framed horizon. He couldn’t be anything but honest. “I’m more than familiar with it. I’ve been in the lifestyle for years. I’m surprised Rowan didn’t tell you.”

“He might have, but I didn’t ask. I like going straight to the source.”

Mace paused, trying to decide how much he wanted to share. “To be honest, it’s something I’ve explored in the past, but I’ve never quite made the pieces fit. Not in a way that lasted, anyway. Is it a requirement for me to run your rodeo?”

“Not at all,” Derek answered immediately and firmly. “I’m not asking you to participate. That said, my guests come here because they feel safe. I’m incredibly protective of the people on this Ranch, staff and guests alike. So long as you understandyour job is to run a professional show and treat everyone with the respect they’re paying for, we won't have a problem. I expect you to take care of my people, Mace. Period.”

“You have my word,” Mace said. Thank fuck. It felt more like comfort than a burden. He understood protection. He understood duty.

“Good. I think our guests will enjoy the rodeo. Since it’s the last summer camp of the season, I wanted to go all out.”

“I look forward to making it the best Little rodeo you’ve ever seen,” Mace answered.

“Good,” Derek said. Confirming Mace’s arrival time once more, the call ended.

Derek’s mention of the DDlg lifestyle dredged up old memories. Mace didn’t think about Naomi Frost often. Not to avoid the memories. It just wasn’t practical to spend time in the past. The matter had been resolved. Some things didn’t need revisiting to remain understood. She’d made her choice. He’d learned his lesson and moved on.

She had left two years ago on a Wednesday, which seemed appropriate now that he thought about it.

Everything bad seemed to happen on a Wednesday. Naomi left him on a Wednesday. The auction that lost him his ranch was on a Wednesday. Now he found himself rolling toward Colorado Springs in the dark… on a Wednesday. What would Wednesday bring next?

Naomi’s departure hadn’t been dramatic, but he remembered it like it was yesterday. After all, she sure as hell hadn’t tried to soften the blow.

He’d come in from checking fence lines and found her sitting at the kitchen table, her hands wrapped around a mug whose contents had long gone cold. She hadn’t been crying. Of course, she hadn’t. Why cry when the decision had already been made?

The finality of that decision rang clear in the way she said his name.

“Mace.” Then she took a breath that sounded practiced. “I can’t do this anymore.”

He’d nodded. Not in agreement, just to signal he was listening.

She talked for a while after that. About how he came on too strong, was too controlling. How he anticipated her needs and took care of them before she even asked. How nothing ever spun out of control, nothing ever got messy enough to feel real. Like she was a puppet and he pulled all the strings.

“You’re not a Daddy. You’re a control freak. And a bully,” she’d said, watching him carefully, as if she expected an argument. “I don’t know what you are, but you’re definitely not a Daddy.”

He’d waited, letting the silence stretch long enough that she had to keep going or stop. One thing about Naomi, she always filled the silence when she was nervous. Right on time, she continued, “You’re too rigid. Too strict. Maybe you don’t mean to be, but it’s suffocating. You don’t leave room for fun. Or for things to just… happen.”

He’d thought about telling her that nothing “just happened”. It happened because someone paid attention. Someone held the line when it would’ve been easier not to. But explanations were a waste of time when the other person had already decided the outcome of the discussion.

Naomi had made up her mind. He’d figured out early on that she wasn’t the Little she’d claimed to be when they’d first gotten together.

He hadn’t argued. He hadn’t defended himself or offered his perspective or asked what version of him she would’ve preferred. Or what having a Daddy meant to her. There was no point.

Ultimately, it had been his responsibility to meet her needs, and he’d failed. What he saw as protective and caring, in her eyes, was controlling and rigid. Apparently, “steady” felt like “suffocating” if you didn’t want to stay.

She’d watched him closely. When he didn’t push back, confusion flickered across her face. Had she thought he would beg her to stay? If she had, she didn’t know him at all. Instead, he’d simply asked if she needed help loading her car.

Naomi hadn’t been wrong. They just hadn’t been a good fit.

She wanted spontaneity. He believed in structure. She wanted to feel swept up in excitement and adventure, and he didn’t mind those things from time to time. Hell, that was what drew him to the rodeo. But he also believed in sure and steady, day-to-day loving and living. What she called boring, he called life.

Those things might be small, but they were foundational differences. They could change the direction of everything. Mace let out a sigh. He really hated Wednesdays.