Page 102 of Over the Line

Then, in the silence of his office, in a place where his ancestors had faced harsh truths and made tough decisions, an inescapable realization seared him.

He was in love with Sydney.

Christ.

Falling in love was never supposed to happen again.

That unstable emotion risked his heart, left the ranch—and his legacy—vulnerable.

But there it was—truth interwoven with reality, and he dropped the pen as his shoulders fell forward.

Even as they’d scened together and he’d invited her to his home, he’d told himself he could confine his feelings to a D/s dynamic.

But the sexual charge between him and Sydney buzzed with as much energy as a mountain lightning storm. It was intense, as immediate as it was scorching.

Over time, that had flared into respect, then affection.

When she was on the property, her passion and infectious laughter had breathed life into Eagle’s Bend.

And he was lost without her.

Sydney might believe, honestly believe, that sex was all they shared.

Yet there was no way she could have faked her joy at being here, with him.

And when he’d thrown down his parting words, she could have countered, made a promise to come back another time and stay for longer. Anything to have given him a glimmer of hope.

But her expression had been stricken.

To her, after Lewis, there could be no greater threat than falling in love again and risking her very precious freedom.

Throwing down the pen, he surged to his feet and returned to the window, this time to stare out.

Fuck it all.

Jeb had been right on a lot of fronts. Michael hadn’t been patient, hadn’t even told her how he felt. And when something mattered to him, he was willing to work for it.

You’re mine, Sydney.

And he was goddamn well intent on proving it to her.

Chapter Eleven

“Open the door!”

At the pounding and the shout of her friend Vanessa’s voice, Sydney groaned. She wanted to spend the entire day in her pajamas, curled up on the couch beneath her favorite blanket, watching endless hours of home improvement shows.

When she stayed where she was, Vanessa switched to the doorbell, pressing on it incessantly. “Your car’s in the parking lot, so I know you’re in there!”

She rolled her eyes.

On some level, she shouldn’t have been surprised that Vanessa had driven all the way from Denver to Evergreen at such a ridiculous time on a Saturday morning.

After all, Vanessa had called last night. When she’d asked how Sydney was, she’d burst into tears. The effort of forcing them back for so long had become too much, and Sydney had collapsed into a puddle of grief and loss.

They’d been friends for too many years for Vanessa not to have ridden to the rescue, like she had when she’d helped Sydney figure out how to get Lewis’s hated collar cut off.

They’d made a pact to always be there for each other—and they both meant it.