Page 2 of Chance (Wild River Ranch #3)

C hance turned toward the holding pen and nearly lost his mind.

Inside the pen, with the largest and most temperamental bull on the entire ranch, stood the stunning photographer.

But did she notice the twenty-five-hundred-pound beast plodding up behind her?

No, not until it was practically breathing down her neck.

All her focus had been on the orphaned calf housed in the holding pen until they could try to figure out where to place her. The woman treated it like a stray puppy.

Once she noticed the bull, did she run for the fence? Hell, no. She talked to the calf. Then, she placed herself between the calf and Ironside. Did she think she would be able to protect it if the bull decided to charge? Because charging was exactly the kind of thing Ironside would do.

See? Trouble.

After all, nothing said “Friendsgiving” like having a guest trampled by a bull.

Yelling orders to his men to get the bull back in the barn, he raced toward the holding pen, praying he would make it in time to keep her safe.

The fact that she was in the pen with Ironside was bad enough, but his heart nearly stopped when she started to inch closer to the bull. She extended her hand, palm up, as if she were approaching a stray dog rather than a two-thousand-pound, ill-tempered bison.

She was smiling, oblivious to the danger she’d put herself in. When he got his hands on her, she’d be one very sorry trespasser. As he approached the pen, he slowed to a jog, doing his best not to startle the beast.

No wonder he hadn’t spotted her. He’d been searching in the places where sane people would be found. Insane or not, no one had been killed on Wild River Ranch since its founding, and that record wasn’t going to be broken on his watch.

He took off his hat, waving it slowly to capture the bull’s attention.

Then maybe his uninvited guest would have a chance to escape.

When she didn’t move, he tried to gently encourage her.

In quiet tones, he said, “Don’t know your name, but you have to the count to three to get your sweet ass out of my holding pen. Slow steps, starting now.”

That was probably the most he’d spoken all week. He wasn’t much for talking. He let his actions and his rope do the talking. He was about to give her a few choice words when she looked at him, making him forget what he was about to say.

She smiled at him like he carried the sun, moon, and stars. None of those celestial bodies could hold a candle to her smile. In that moment, the rest of the world became nothing more than a backdrop.

She was dazzling.

She shook her head. “Oh, thank you, but no. I haven’t captured my special moment yet.”

Her words broke the spell. It was without a doubt the politest disobedience he’d ever heard. But it was still disobedience. “Ma’am, if you don’t start moving, you’ll sit tender for a week.”

Her jaw fell open. “Did… did you really just threaten to spank me?”

“No, ma’am,” he said. “I don’t threaten. But I do promise, and a promise is one thing I always keep.”

As Chance distracted Joy, Gus and Silas entered the pen, positioning themselves between Ironside and the insane woman clutching the camera to her chest. As his men backed Ironside toward the barn, she shot Chance a glare. “I didn’t get my photo!” she pouted.

Pouting or not, she didn’t need to worry about Ironside at all. She needed to worry about him. He was in the mood to teach this Little girl a lesson she wouldn’t soon forget.

Nope. Stop right there.

He wasn’t going down that road. Just because she had no sense of self-preservation and evidently a complete lack of fear, not to mention the most adorable combat boots he’d ever seen, didn’t mean she was a Little. The Daddy in him was seeing who he wanted her to be, not who she actually was.

Once she climbed back over the fence, he stalked toward her. Her eyes went wide, which should have alerted him. Quick as a wink, she turned and raced back toward the crowd.

Without hesitation, he reached for the rope coiled at his hip, only to discover he’d forgotten to grab one that morning. If he couldn’t lasso his troublesome photographer, he’d have to catch her the old-fashioned way. She had him reduced to chasing after her.

He didn’t like it. He prided himself on his control. It was necessary to keep a ranch the size of Wild River Ranch running smoothly. He controlled everything in his life. Routine and predictability. Those were the principles that kept the ranch and his life running smoothly .

Doing that and keeping his family safe were the last promises he’d made to his dad. That meant, regardless of how his body responded to her, the woman with the camera had to go. At least, that was the plan.

She managed to get away from him again, vanishing amongst the guests when friends stopped him to talk. He’d admire her grit if he weren’t ready to strangle her. But that was fine. She couldn’t elude him forever. And when he found her, she would be one very sorry Little girl.

Chance wasted the rest of the day looking for the mystery photographer. He thought he’d seen a glimpse of her wild mane of blonde hair heading toward the toolshed, but by the time he reached it, she wasn’t there anymore. She was like a bratty, blonde Houdini.

Clenching his jaw, he added another tally to the ever-growing list of the things she’d pay for when he found her. This was usually one of his favorite days of the year. But this year, he couldn’t wait for the Friendsgiving celebration to be over.

By the end of the day, he had given up. The band moved inside and played in a corner while he sat with his family, roasting s’mores by the fireplace. If it hadn’t been for Gus and Silas seeing her as well, he would have thought she was a figment of his imagination.

That would explain his reaction to her. If he created her, she would have checked all his boxes.

He felt the need to schedule some time at The Red Barn, the local BDSM club on the outskirts of a neighboring town.

Evidently, he needed to spend some time with a submissive decorated with all the designs he could make with his ropes.

There were a couple of submissives who liked rope play. Their Doms would stand by and watch his work. Once he was finished, he’d step aside, and their Doms would take over their play.

Unfortunately, he hadn’t found a Little who liked Shibari or Semenawa for himself. He wasn’t going to enter a relationship that would leave one or both partners unfulfilled, or worse, with feelings of trauma and abuse.

Lifting his glass to his lips, he took a long draw of his whiskey, resisting the urge to throw the crystal rock glass against the fireplace just to watch it shatter.

Of course, it would never happen, and not because it was the finest Waterford crystal.

No, he treated the glass with care because it had been his mother’s favorite set.

“I don't understand why you can't just let it go.” Leave it to his brother, Tanner, to cut straight to the heart of the matter.

Before he could speak, his brother, Trace, Tanner's twin, cut in. “Did she take anything, or destroy any ranch property? I'm a little confused as to why you can't let it go myself.”

His brothers were missing the point. “I don't know what she did and didn't do. I just know she snuck onto the ranch and bothered all the guests. Not to mention she damn near got herself killed by climbing in the holding pen with Ironside.”

That was the thing that had him breaking into a cold sweat every time he thought about it. She could have been killed.

“The only thing I heard was what a great photographer she was,” Tildi said. Turning to Boone, she added, “I also heard she's a boudoir photographer. That sounds interesting, don't you think?”

“Absolutely,” Boone agreed. “What the hell is a boudoir photographer?”

In answer, Tildi rolled her eyes. “It's a photographer who specializes in taking sexy bedroom pictures. I wonder how good she is?”

Boone's eyes narrowed. “Did you just roll your eyes at me, bluebell?”

“Um, no? ”

Chance grinned. Tildi had added so much to their family in the short time she'd been there.

She and his younger sister, Kenzie, were fast becoming the best of friends.

Ruby, who kept the lodge running smoothly and kept them all fed, was thrilled to have someone in the kitchen learning all her best recipes.

At least, that's what she told everyone.

Ruby had been a part of their family since before Chance was born. She was the touchstone, stepping in for their mother after their parents had been killed.

Looking around the gathering, Tildi asked, “Where’s Kenzie?”

Trace spoke up first. “She went to bed already.” With a grin, he added, “She said she had a headache.”

Tanner snorted. “Yeah. A headache named Sev Midnight.”

Chance didn’t see anything about Seven Midnight as a laughing matter. “Why was he even here? The state of Washington is a long way to travel for a local Friendsgiving celebration.”

Tanner shook his head. “I don’t think the celebration was his main reason for attending.”

Chance glared at Boone. “You better talk to him. There’s a lot of places to bury a body on this ranch.”

Trace must have agreed. “Especially the leader of a Cosa Nostra family who won’t quit nosing around our sister.”

“Damn straight,” Tanner agreed, raising his glass.

“I’m on it,” Boone assured them all, but Chance had a bad feeling they would be seeing a lot more of Boone’s friend.

Taking another swallow of his whiskey, he caught a flash of blonde reflected off the cut crystal of the rock glass. At first, he thought it was a trick of the firelight. But then he noticed Boone staring at the door to the kitchen.

“Got’cha,” he muttered and put his glass down on the coffee table. “I have to grab something in the kitchen. Limburger cheese is involved, so you may want to steer clear for a while. ”

As he strode toward the kitchen, Tanner said, “I didn’t know he liked Limburger.”