Page 46 of Finding Little Fiera

Fiera cupped her hands around her mouth and let out a dramatic rodeo yell that made his lips twitch. She was so damn adorable.

“All right,” he warned, though his tone held amusement. “Keep it safe. No skipping cones or cuttin’ in front of them.”

He scanned the lines as they formed and immediately saw it. Fiera, Sadie, Wren, and Daisy lined up shoulder to shoulder so they would all be in the same heat. If that didn’t start his Daddy senses tingling, the mischief lighting all four faces sure did.

Mace narrowed his eyes. He had no idea what they were planning, but they were planning something. He could feel it, but he’d have to deal with it when it was their turn.

“All right,” he called. “First heat ready?”

The first group ran clean and fast. Wylde kept the times and shouted them out, and Mace wrote them down. They repeated the same process four times, and then it was the Fiera and her friends’ turn.

Fiera’s group stepped up to the start line. Mace studied them and couldn’t see anything amiss. Maybe he was wrong and theyweren’t up to mischief. He had his hand on the button to sound the start of their race when Fiera cried out, “Now!”

Too late to stop the race, Mace could do nothing but watch, and they all spun around to face the wrong direction.

Before he could stop them, Sadie screamed, “Let’s go!”

Fiera didn’t look at him. No, she looked at her friends and grinned. He felt the approaching trouble shoot down his spine. Every single one of them took off running backward.

His heart stopped. “Jesus?—”

They were going full speed, knees pumping, stick horses clutched tight, heads craned to glance over shoulders. One misstep and they’d go down hard.

He was already moving off the bucket, ready to sprint. And then he saw her face.

Fiera was laughing. Not the careful, insecure laugh. Not the competitive-with-something-to-prove laugh. No, this was wild and filled with pure joy.

Mace couldn’t take his eyes off her. This was a side of his little firefly he hadn’t seen before. If ever he’d looked at the face of pure joy, it was now.

Fiera skipped hard through the cones, the end of her stick horse digging into the grass, her hair flying, sunglasses miraculously staying put as she ran backward like she’d been born doing it.

She wasn’t calculating what it took to win, which was good because that ship had sailed. Riding backwards on a stick horse might be fun, but it wasn’t fast.

She wasn’t on the lookout for Laura. Or checking to see if any of her friends were ahead of her. She was just… playing.

The sound of her laughter rolled across the field, bright and unguarded. And damn if it didn’t punch straight through his ribs and grab his heart.

Sadie nearly tripped and shrieked, correcting at the last second.

Wren went down yelling, “I regret nothing!”

Daisy walked her stick horse, cackling uncontrollably.

They made it to the final post in a chaotic cluster, somehow circled it—still running backward—and sprinted back the same way.

By the time they crossed the line, half the campground was doubled over laughing. Mace included. He couldn’t have stopped if he tried.

The girls were dead last, and not one of them cared. Fiera bent at the waist, hands on knees, breathless and glowing. When she straightened, without thinking, she pushed her sunglasses up.

Fun was fun, but hurting her eyes wasn’t happening. Not on his watch. He cleared his throat sharply.

Fiera froze. With her bottom lip caught between her teeth, she lowered them back down.

No one ever said his girl wasn’t smart.

The remaining heats ran without incident. When the final times were tallied and prizes handed out, the four conspirators stood off to the side, whispering and grinning like bandits who’d gotten away with something.

Mace walked toward Fiera, boots steady on the grass. He knew the moment she noticed from the way her smile faltered.