“Sounds great, but let’s order it to take out. I’m not sure I can hold my head up enough to sit in a restaurant.”
As they ate their pizza, sprawled on the living room couch, they compared notes about their interviews. It turned out Rob hadn’t told her everything about his interactions with Kent Barnard.
“I wasn’t trying to keep it from you. I just didn’t want to worry you by telling you what he’d said about you.”
“Don’t do that, Rob. You don’t need to protect me. We need to be honest with each other.”
“Sorry. You’re right. I guess I should tell you that Detective Bailey let it slip that Barnard had a can of gasoline with him. He left it behind the garage.”
“What? Why would he want to burn us out?”
“I’m not sure what he had planned.” He looked like he didn’t want to say more.
The pieces fell into place. “He had a knife. He planned to burn down the house to cover up a crime, didn’t he?”
“I don’t know, MJ. I don’t know what he would have done, but I’m glad you’re okay.”
She felt sick to her stomach, and shoved the slice of pizza aside, appetite gone. Tears came again as she imagined what the man had intended.
Rob pulled her onto his lap, stroking her hair and back. “Honey, you’re okay. They’re building a good case against him, and they’ll put him away for a long time. Don’t let him into your head. Don’t let him scare you. We’re both fine. Maverick’s fine. Remember, they have a case against him for sexual abuse of his own baby, too. He’s going away for a very long time. He won’t get bail this time.”
“Do you think he was responsible for the fire at your apartment?”
“I don’t know, but I suspect the police are looking at that carefully.”
She shuddered, and he pulled her close and held her. “I love you, MJ. We’re okay. We’ll make sure he can’t do anything to hurt you.”
His touch comforted her the way it always did. Rob would do whatever was necessary to protect her. Whether or not he realized it, she was his. She didn’t know when it had happened, exactly, but the love she’d once felt for Trevor, she now knew to the depths of her soul had been a teenage infatuation. Somehow, the love she felt for Rob was deeper, more real, and with luck, lasting.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Rob had just stepped out of the shower after PT the next morning when his phone rang. He dropped his towel and grabbed the cell off the counter. He didn’t recognize the local number. He’d be pissed if it was a telemarketer.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Rob, this is Tyler Mathews. We met at the support group.”
“How are you doing?”
“That’s what I wanted to ask you. I read about the break-in at your house. Is your girlfriend okay?”
“Yeah. The security system warned her he was in the yard, and she called 9-1-1 and locked herself in the bathroom. He got into the house and was at the bathroom door trying to get in when the police arrived.” He shuddered for the hundredth time, thinking about what could have happened if they’d been slower to respond.
“Man, that’s terrible.”
“Tell me about it. At least he’s in jail.”
“Glad to hear it. If you’re up to it, I want to invite you out to the ranch. I’d like for you to see my operation and maybe give me some input.”
“That sounds great. Much better than sitting around.”
Tyler gave him directions to Wayward Ranch, which was in the southern part of Ridgeview County. “Don’t bother with GPS. It doesn’t work out here and will most likely take you to the edge of a lake and tell you to drive in.” They both laughed, familiar with the lack of accuracy the technology had in rural areas.
Rob grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator and petted Maverick. “Sorry, buddy, you can’t come with me this time. I’m not sure of how you’ll behave around Tyler’s critters.” Maverick sighed, and laid his head on his front paws, looking disappointed as Rob closed the kitchen door, locking the deadbolt and resetting the alarm.
As he drove south along the road that led out of Ridgeview, Rob couldn’t help smiling. It felt good to be doing something. As much as he loved MJ, he needed to make male friends. After spending years in the military and forming friendships that felt like family, he needed to connect with other men. Since Tyler was also a Marine, it gave them a bond. Tyler had his own knowledge about the life-changing experiences guys had during their deployments. They didn’t need to talk about them; men who’d been in the military recognized the look of world-weariness that bespoke the terrible things they’d all witnessed.
He made the turn off the main road, and headed toward the mountains, passing the general store Tyler had mentioned. Before long, he took the right fork that led to the entrance to Wayward Ranch.
He drove under the overhead sign and pulled into a parking place near a huge, old, red barn. At the far end was a fence-rail paddock where Tyler worked with a young horse. Rob leaned on the top rail and watched as Tyler worked the filly, using his posture and arms to direct her.
This guy knew what he was doing. His gestures were clear and concise, and he calibrated his energy as the young horse responded. Rob loved it. It was like watching a dance.
When the horse moved around the rail in a trot, Tyler turned to track her progress. Rob stepped back from the rail, not wanting to interfere with the filly’s lesson. He raised his hand to wave after the horse had gone by.
“Give me a minute,” Tyler said,
