Page 65 of Over the Line
Feeling wildly, stupidly giddy, her hand trembling, she typed her answer. Yes. He’d gone to some trouble to track her down, and she appreciated it.
It wasn’t until the following night that she received a message from a Colorado area code with a number she didn’t recognize. She was grinning as she opened it.
There were no words, just a picture…of the stilettos Master Michael had promised he’d buy her to replace the ones his goat had absconded with. He’d positioned the red shoes on top of a box, and the studs that ran up the heels made her heart miss a beat.
Sydney was astounded, first by the fact that he’d remembered to replace her shoes, and she also appreciated that he hadn’t called and interrupted her vacation.
As she was looking at the screen, another text came through. This one had a picture of Chewie standing on a rock. There was a sign around her neck. Sydney had to zoom in to read the writing. Sorry I was baaaaaaaaad.
Sydney grinned. Master Michael had a terrible sense of humor. But it had obviously required a lot of work and creativity to get the photo. She had no idea how he’d gotten the four-footed, eating, thieving machine to stand still for so long.
She waited and waited, staring at the screen. Nothing else came through.
* * * *
The next morning, at the crack of ten a.m., the first thing Sydney did was look at her phone. No texts, calls, or emails.
But Master Michael successfully managed to make sure he occupied her every thought.
Dropping her phone beside her, she flopped her head back onto the pillow.
Someone pounded on her door. Nursing a bit of a hangover, she groaned at the obnoxious sound. “Go away!”
“Let’s go!” Leaundra shouted back. “We’re waiting on you for brunch. We’re starving, and the mimosas are waiting.”
She groaned. After last night’s consumption of cheap pink wine, nothing sounded worse.
“And we need time for shopping! Get out of bed before I come in there and get you.”
Sydney scooped her hair back from her forehead. “Ugh.”
“Be ready in ten minutes.”
How the heck did Lea manage to sleep so little, consume too much alcohol, and still have boundless energy?
“Syd?”
“I’m coming!” She climbed from the bed.
One time, during their college years, Lea and Jacqueline had stormed her room and dressed her, done her hair, and applied makeup. When they’d finished, she’d looked something like a fashion doll. The only thing they hadn’t done was pour her into one of Lea’s ridiculously short dresses.
If she wasn’t ready in ten minutes, Sydney had no doubt that Lea and Jacqueline would repeat their torment—safe word or not—and enjoy every moment as they cackled their way through the process.
With one minute to spare, she was ready, hair pulled back into a ponytail, a coat of mascara on her eyelashes, wearing leggings, a T-shirt, and a ballcap that she could use to block the annoying sun from her face.
“Are you a vampire?” Lea demanded when she emerged into their living room.
“What?”
“You’re pale, and there’s no way you’ll catch any sun unless you show some skin.”
“I’m fine, thank you for your concern.” She scowled and snatched up a cookie remaining from last night’s raid on the check-in counter.
After brunch, and having given in to the champagne cocktail that Lea had ordered for her, the trio headed toward some local shops.
Their first stop was a high-end lingerie store.
While Leaundra looked for a white garter belt and stockings, Sydney found a black pleated micromini latex skirt that would look fabulous with the new shoes that Master Michael had bought her.