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None too gently, he tossed the woman over his shoulder and headed for the walk-in pantry where they could continue their conversation in private. She fought more than a cutthroat trout on the hook. Giving in to his nature, he smacked her bottom. “I said, quit strugglin’. You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

She went rigid over his shoulder. He could have sworn he heard her say something about, “might as well be in Nameless,” but that didn’t make any sense.

Once they were in the pantry and out of sight of the crowd, he set her on her feet, leaning her against the large table in the middle of the room. He pinned her in place with a stern look. Calm, he needed to remain calm.

Starting at the free end of his rope, he took his time coiling it back up. “I’m going to take the rope off you so we can talk. But if you run, I’ll call Grant Spicer, the head of ranch security. He’ll haul you down to the sheriff’s office, and we can have our talk there. How does that sound?”

He hid his concern when the little color she had left in her cheeks disappeared. Was she in trouble with the law? That was the last thing he needed.

“You have security? For a ranch?”

They did now, after everything they’d gone through with the Midnight Cosa Nostra. “We have guests who come out to enjoy the ranch and hunt from late spring to early fall. Between that and the danger of rustlers, not to mention trespassers, we absolutely have security.”

Of course, they also knew their way around a ranch and could help with that as well, but she didn’t need to know that. Her shoulders slumped, and the fight seemed to drain out of her before his eyes.

“I won’t run. I wouldn’t have run in the first place if you hadn’t been barreling toward me wearing such a mean, scary face.”

That hadn’t been meanness. It had been terror. Still, he hated she’d been afraid of him for some reason. “Was it my fault you trespassed on my land? Or snuck into my house and helped yourself to my food? Was it also my fault you climbed a fence and got into a pen with the meanest bull this side of the Rockies? Do you have any idea what Ironside could have done to you? What the hell were you thinking, Little girl?”

He hadn’t meant to call her that. He would have apologized, but she didn’t seem to mind. Interesting. Still, he had no business calling her Little anything.

Instead of responding with the fear he expected, she wrinkled her nose as if she smelled something offensive. “Is that his name? I think you should change it. He doesn’t look like an Ironside.”

He shouldn’t ask. He should find out if she mistreated any of the townspeople who were under his protection, since they were on his ranch. Then he should get her off his ranch. “And what name would you suggest?”

Damn it.

“Hmm. I think you should call him Bullwinkle.”

She finished her declaration with a nod, beaming up at him as if waiting for praise.

“No,” he said.

Her shoulders dropped again. “Why don’t you like Bullwinkle? Bullwinkle's a bull.”

“Ironside is a bison.”

She crossed her arms. “I know.”

“Bullwinkle is a moose."

Her brow wrinkled and it was fucking adorable. “Oh. Right. Well, that doesn’t matter. He still looks like a Bullwinkle to me.”

This was the craziest conversation he’d ever had, and that was saying something with two Littles living in the family lodge. “Why were you taking pictures of the guests?”

“Why? Do you want a copy? They’d look great on your website and socials. I can share them with you.”

Here we go. Now they were getting somewhere. “For a reasonable fee, I suppose?”

She frowned. “Were you caught up in one of those pyramid schemes or something? To have so many friends at your Friendsgiving, you’re a tad on the ornery side.”

Chance sighed. He was being ornery, but he’d spent the entire day looking for her. And now, here she was. Gorgeous, with the most unusual eyes… blue, gray, and green all at once. Long, luscious, wavy blonde hair that hung almost to her waist, even though she had it caught up in a hair tie.

His hand itched to yank the tie out of her hair to free it to hang down. If she were his Little girl, he’d make her wear it that way all the time. Shit. The last thing he needed to think about right now was her being his.

He didn’t even know if she was a Little. And what if she were? She lived like a damn gypsy, traveling around, probably conning people out of their money, breaking in and stealing his food.

Overreacting just a bit, aren’t we?