Read Over the Line for Free Online Page A

through, stopping a fair distance away.
    She pulled in behind him, then watched in the rear-view mirror as he strode back to secure the chain and lock again.
    Now she was nervous. He’d effectively blocked her escape.
    He stopped by her vehicle again.
    “The code for the lock is M-Y-H-M,” he said. “Shorthand for my home, so it’s easy to remember.”
    She exhaled. “How did you know?”
    “Honey, you haven’t blinked in thirty seconds. Not much scares you, does it?”
    Sydney slowly shook her head.
    “But the things that scare you are debilitating.”
    “There you go with the psychoanalysis again.”
    “Nah. That’s just casual observation. I’ll let you know what I see when I really have the chance to study you.”
    Before she could respond, he’d moved off. She rolled up her window and followed him towards a house. Off to the right were a number of buildings, a barn among them.
    More lights came on as they drove, obviously all equipped with motion sensors. He indicated a place for her to park near a large pine tree.
    He was there to help her from the vehicle, something she appreciated with her heels and the uneven dirt parking area. “This outfit isn’t exactly the best for ranch wear,” she said, closing the car door.
    “Are you kidding? It’s perfect.”
    In the distance, she heard an occasional moo that she assumed came from a cow and something that sounded like the bleating of a goat. While she also lived in the mountains, it was as if she and Master Michael occupied two entirely different universes.
    He cupped her elbow and drew her towards the house. A huge yard was also fenced, but with horizontally notched wooden poles interlaced with vertical ones. Though it was likely practical, it was also artistic.
    With one hand still on her, he opened the gate, taking time to ensure it latched securely behind them.
    “To keep Chewie out,” he said.
    “Chewie?”
    “Long story. She’s a Nigerian dwarf goat.”
    “I thought ranches had cows.”
    “I run cattle, yes,” he said. “But Chewie is more of a pet. Well, maybe a pest. She would eat all the grass and the flowers and the trees if I let her near the house. Well, and anything else she could find.”
    “And the fence stops her?”
    “It’s supposed to. I’m thinking of putting up a surveillance camera. Somehow the gate gets opened far too often. Last I checked, she had hooves rather than opposable thumbs, but I wonder…”
    The sight of columbines and other wildflowers surprised her. “Are you the gardener?”
    “No. That’s thanks to my sister. She doesn’t visit often, but she plants, I don’t know…stuff. Annuals. Perennials. Bulbs. Seeds. Bushes. Shrubs. As if I’m supposed to know the difference? The goat is hers, and she has a horse here, too. The ranch has a couple of hands. They stay in the bunkhouse over there. Don’t worry. We’ll have our privacy. And it won’t matter how long or how hard you scream—no one will come running to save you.”
    She looked up. He wasn’t smiling, and there’d been no hint of a tease in his tone. A thrill shot through her. It was as if he knew how to turn her on with only a few carefully placed words.
    He opened the front door and ushered her inside.
    The home was rustic, with exposed-beam ceilings, hardwood floors, hand-woven rugs and oversized leather furniture. A stone fireplace dominated the living room, and wood crisscrossed in the grate, waiting to be lit. Dozens of photographs, some in black and white, crowded the mantel.
    Just that detail highlighted the differences in their priorities. She had a single picture of her parents. In the small framed picture, she was about a year old and asleep in the pack on her dad’s back. They’d been trekking Nepal at the time, if she remembered the story right.
    Her condominium lacked the homey touches that his home had. Hers was impersonal enough to be a hotel room. Until now, that had never bothered her.
    “Can I get you something to