“You saved her,” she said softly. “I was afraid she would never be able to trust a man again, but she trusts you. You saved her.” She looked up at him. “You saved us both.”
His chest tightened. He felt as if the walls were closing in. “I don’t want to be your savior, Tory. I don’t want to be anyone’s savior.” Turning, he walked out of the kitchen, crossed the living room, and walked out of the house.
* * *
Josh didn’t come over that night. Tory could sense his restlessness, his frustration. He felt boxed in, a man at the end of a chain. Two of his friends had been murdered. There was a chance he was on the killer’s hit list. Add to that, he felt responsible for her and Ivy.
Detective Larson believed Damon had murdered Patty Daniels because she looked like Tory. Now that Damon knew where to find her, how long before he came after her?
As she lay in bed staring up at the ceiling, she tried not to think of Lisa and what she had suffered, tried not to think of the girl who had been tortured and killed.
Was it Damon? And if so, was Tory the woman he really wanted to murder?
She was exhausted when she crawled out of bed the next morning. She fed Ivy, then they went over to fix Josh’s breakfast. He was gone when she arrived, already outside hard at work.
She made French toast and stuck it in the oven, made him a sack lunch, then took Ivy back to the trailer. With so much worry, it was hard to concentrate on the little girl’s morning lesson, but Ivy was smart and she loved to learn. Tory somehow managed to get through it.
Later in the morning, she drove Ivy over to Mrs. Thompson’s. She knew Josh didn’t like her going even that far from the house, but it was only the end of the road and according to Hamilton Brown, Damon was still in Phoenix.
“Let’s work in the garden before it gets too hot,” Clara Thompson said to Ivy. Inside the big old white house it was cool, but outside the sun beat down fiercely. They might work outdoors for a while, but Tory figured they wouldn’t last long.
“After lunch, we can have fun with letters and numbers, and I checked a book out of the library for us to read.”
“A cat book or a dog book?” Ivy loved dogs. She asked for one every year for Christmas but it wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.
“It’s a dog book.Doozy Hound Goes to the City.”
Ivy grinned. “Doozy Hound. That sound good.” Ivy ran into the living room while Mrs. Thompson walked Tory to the door.
“I’ll never be able to thank you enough, Clara, for everything you’ve done.”
“Don’t be silly. I can use the extra money and having your daughter here is the highlight of my day.”
Tory had mentioned the possible threat against Josh, but said the FBI hoped to have the man in custody very soon. She had also told Mrs. Thompson about Damon, though she hadn’t mentioned the murder since there wasn’t any proof.
“I hope you and Josh are being careful.”
“Everyone’s on alert. I’m sure it’ll all get straightened out soon.”
But she couldn’t help wondering what would happen once things went back to normal. Would Josh still want her to stay on the ranch? Or would his restlessness continue to grow? Would he still desire her the way he always seemed to? Or would he be ready to move on?
And what about what she wanted? She was in love with Josh, but she would never be satisfied with a man who thought of her as little more than a friend. Better to end things, make a home for her and Ivy somewhere besides the ranch. Make a life that didn’t depend on a man.
Her eyes stung. She refused to give in to tears, but her mood was dark when she returned to the house.
It wasn’t time for her riding lesson, but feeling strangely claustrophobic, she wandered outside anyway. Josh was training a red roan horse named Woody. On a horse, he looked even more impressive than he usually did.
Tory loved watching him, the way he kept his shoulders so straight and yet moved in perfect rhythm with the animal beneath him. The way the horse understood his slightest command.
He glanced over and saw her, drew rein on Woody and swung down from the saddle, tied the roan to a ring in the fence and walked toward her.
“Sorry about last night,” he said. “I should have let you know I wasn’t coming over.”
“I had a feeling you weren’t coming.” She looked up at him. “It’s all right, you know. I’m not your wife. I’m not even your girlfriend. You don’t have to answer to me.”
A muscle tightened in his jaw. “That right? What about you? You don’t have to answer to me, either?”
“There’s no reason I should. We’re friends who enjoy having sex. That’s all we ever have been.”
