Destined (The Rangers of Ridge County #1)

Chapter Seven

CHAPTER SEVEN

MILLIE

“ S ounds swell, Ms. Millie,” Tim stated.

My hopes flared. This could be my big break—the chance I desperately needed to show the people of this town my marketing services would be beneficial for their businesses. I could really use a win right about now—though I hadn’t expected it to be in the form of an auto repair shop.

I peered around the space, my eyes landing on the vintage posters of antique cars pinned along the walls—I could work with this. Besides, beggars couldn’t be choosers. And considering how meager my savings were, I definitely fell into the former of the two.

But then his expression evened out, and a pit grew in my stomach.

“I just hired Thomas part-time, though,” Tim continued as he nodded toward the man with his back to me, “And I don’t have it in the budget.”

I schooled my expression in the hopes of remaining professional. It wasn’t his fault three other businesses had also turned me away. But the smile he shot me was full of pity, and that had the crater in my stomach filling with fire.

I had been on the receiving end of enough benevolent looks to last an entire lifetime. I squared my shoulders and plastered a bright smile on my face I was certain made me appear somewhat unhinged.

“Thank you for listening to my pitch anyway, Mr. Tim,” I said with as much enthusiasm as I could muster.

“Maybe next quarter,” he offered as he turned toward his work. Nodding as I took my leave, I waved to Mabel and hustled through the lobby then out to my car.

Slumping into the driver’s seat, I released a sigh and tossed my things to the passenger’s side. Tears sprung to my eyes, and I swiped at them feverishly with the back of my hand. This was not the time or place to get lost in pent up sorrow. But it was hard not to associate these rejections with my sense of worth that had already taken so many hits.

A memory weaseled through my fraying defenses, stealing what little strength I had left.

“Jared,” I called out after dropping the spare key he’d given me into the bowl on the entryway table. “Are you here?” His car was in the complex’s parking lot, but that didn’t mean much. He could be working out in the gym or swimming laps in the pool. Either would explain why he hadn’t replied to my messages this afternoon—he was always losing track of time.

Stepping into the kitchen, I opened the refrigerator hoping to uncork a bottle of wine but found empty shelves instead. It looked like we would be going out to eat before stopping at the grocery store. I hadn’t been able to convince him to move into my duplex and, as I stared at the few condiments and lonely bottle of water, couldn’t quite understand why.

I pushed the thought aside, excited to celebrate having signed a big client today. It was a win that would, hopefully, help me land the promotion to management I interviewed for earlier in the month. Not to mention, I felt somewhat smug over accomplishing what Jared had doubted I could do—something he’d verbalized more than once.

The diamond on my left hand twinkled in the light of the appliance as I shut its door. I still couldn’t believe we were getting married in three short months. After almost five years, I had started to wonder if he ever planned on asking. And while it hadn’t been the most romantic proposal, I was happy to be taking the next step. The big step.

I walked toward the front door, intent on rushing to Mia’s apartment one floor down to borrow a bottle before Jared got back. I had spotted her car in the lot, too, and knew her refrigerator selection wouldn’t fail me. But as I reached for the handle, my heel caught on something on the floor, and I stumbled forward. Glancing back, my brows pinched at the sight of Jared’s gym bag.

My confusion followed me down the stairs to my best friend’s apartment—her door looming in the distance as I hurried for it. I could hear chatter from within as I approached and released a sigh of relief. I could always count on Mia.

My knocks echoed down the empty hallway, and I stepped back as the door cracked open.

“Fucking finally,” a startlingly familiar voice spat as a hand thrust cash in my direction through the small opening.

Shock had me rooted in place as the door swung wider to reveal Jared. In nothing but his boxers. His face mirrored mine as we stared at each other in silence.

Before I could acknowledge that my scantily dressed fiancé was in my best friend’s apartment, she appeared. Her clothes were disturbingly absent as she walked past without looking up. The white silk robe she wore hit obscenely high on her thigh as she moved.

“Babe, is that the pizza?” Mia asked Jared whose eyes widened at the term of endearment.

The silence stretched taut, and my cheeks grew hot. More than anything, I felt embarrassed. And I wasn’t sure what that said about my relationship with either of them.

Jared shifted on his feet but didn’t offer any explanation.

His lack of response had Mia glancing up, and I could have sworn a smirk flashed across her face when she realized I was the one at the door. Though she quickly covered it by throwing a hand in front of her mouth and gasping as if I was a ghost.

The fucking nerve of these two.

“Millie,” Jared started, but I cut him off—not caring to listen to his half-assed excuse.

“Don’t,” I snapped. Why would I bother listening to his words when his actions told me plenty? The ring that had felt full of promise moments ago now seemed leaden and restrictive on my finger. So much so I slid it off. The relief that followed was eye-opening.

“Millie, this isn’t how we wanted you to find out,” Mia called, as if she thought the sentiment should make me feel better.

How considerate of her.

I tossed the ring at Jared as an out-of-breath delivery guy hurried up beside me. Jared caught the band then quickly shifted his attention to the pizza, appearing grateful for a momentary reprieve from the predicament his own actions caused.

“Hey, man,” the guy huffed. “I got stuck in traffic,” he said as he handed over the greasy box. Jared popped the top and inspected the pizza with a scrutiny that made my eye twitch.

“It’s cold,” he moaned as he closed the lid.

The sayings were true—karma was a bitch, and revenge was a dish best served cold. The accuracy had my lips tugging upward in a pitiful attempt at a grin.

Though it was short-lived as I realized he seemed to have completely forgotten the life-altering issue at hand. Mia had even wandered back into the apartment as if I wasn’t worth her time. It was a smack in the face after I’d already been kicked to my knees. These two people had been some of the most important in my life less than an hour ago. Or so I thought.

“Sorry,” the delivery guy mumbled to Jared. And like a physical blow, it struck me his apology was the first one I’d heard since this door opened.

Which had me wondering why I was still standing here.

I turned to leave, and no one stopped me.

A prickle of unease washed over me, and I lifted my head from where it had fallen to the steering wheel. Glancing around, I shook off the remnants of the memory, hoping no one witnessed my moment of weakness. I might have felt a twinge of embarrassment over that possibility if numbness hadn’t crept in instead.

Today couldn’t possibly get any worse, could it?

Starting my car, I decided I didn’t want to wait around tempting fate.

I turned onto Peak Street with every intention of heading back to my rental. The dilapidated house was far from a home—but at least I wouldn’t be the only thing falling to pieces within its walls .

The shops passed in a blur until my gaze caught on one with a “Now Open” banner hanging in the window. The name Sips with Spice was painted in bold above the door, and there was a specials board on the sidewalk—hinting it was either a beverage or brunch stop.

On a whim, I pulled my car into a nearby space and hastily made my way to the door. The October air was cool, and my skin pebbled despite the long sleeve shirt I wore—a stark reminder I hadn’t acquired appropriate outerwear. While I had gloves, snow boots, scarves and headwear, as well as a winter coat in my online shopping cart, I really needed to sign a client before purchasing anything frivolous.

It wasn’t that cold. Not yet, anyway.

I pushed open the wooden door and stopped short. The scent of pumpkin and cinnamon rushed to greet me, and I took in the exposed brickwork and recessed lighting with appreciation.

Bar stools sat along a narrow ledge that spanned the width of the picture window to my left and tables to my right. The most eye-catching feature of the space, besides the display of mouthwatering baked goods, was the fireplace. The owners had placed cozy armchairs around the hearth offering a more intimate option for patrons.

I took a few steps toward the case, spying a variety of treats that would definitely help brighten my mood just as a woman with raven colored hair pulled into a chignon burst through a door I presumed led to the prep space. She startled when she saw me, almost dropping the batch of cookies she held.

Regaining her composure quickly, the worker set the tray down and brushed her hands across the apron she wore before stepping to the register. “Welcome to Sips with Spice. What can I get you?”

“What do you recommend?” I asked as I scanned the menu, instantly overwhelmed by all the options. I loved Earl Grey tea, but the fall drink specials sounded equally as good. And I definitely wouldn’t be able to decide between the desserts without help.

I glanced back at the woman expectantly, but she just stared blankly at me—her eyes wide with what seemed like panic. An awkward silence filled the space as I realized I was the only customer here. I nervously peered around and noticed a staircase in the back corner of the shop. How had I missed it before?

I opened my mouth to order something at random to save both of us from this tense moment just as another woman bounded down the stairs—her long blonde hair bouncing with each step. The smile on her face grew as she came closer, and I relaxed.

“Didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I overheard you asking for recommendations,” the blonde said as she walked up beside me.

“I did,” I replied tentatively, unsure what to make of this sweet and salty duo.

“Greer has trouble acknowledging how amazing her creations are, but I don’t,” the blonde continued, nodding toward the dark haired woman I assumed was Greer. “My current favorites are the pecan clusters, s’mores bars, and apple crumb cake.”

I located each item she mentioned within the glass case, and my mouth watered at the sight of the s’mores bars. “I’ll take one of those,” I said, pointing at them. “And an Earl Grey tea with a splash of honey, if you’ve got it.”

“Great choices,” the blonde praised. “My name’s Rory Ranger, by the way. I own the business upstairs.”

There was a business upstairs?

“Hi, I’m Millie,” I said, suppressing my curiosity and returning her kindness with a smile of my own.

“And I’m Greer—the socially awkward sister,” the woman behind the counter stated with a smirk as she rang up my items.

“It’s nice to meet you both,” I said, wondering if either of these women were kin to Emmett as I looked for any familial resemblance before passing Greer a ten dollar bill. She counted my change back, and I stuffed a couple of dollars inside the tip jar.

“Are you in town on business?” Rory questioned, appraising my outfit. I had decided on a white button up and black trousers paired with heeled booties. My loose curls had lost most of their volume and hung limply down my back.

“You could say that,” I sighed, shifting on my feet. Even though I didn’t know these women, it was embarrassing to admit my day had flopped. “I’m new to town and have been trying to build up a clientele,” I shared .

“A clientele for what, exactly?” Greer asked as she slid my order across the counter.

“I’m in marketing,” I replied before taking a sip of my tea. It burned in the best way, warming me from the inside out. “Before I moved, I worked with a firm, but I’m hoping to freelance here in Montana.”

“We could definitely use some help in that department,” Greer said, gesturing toward the empty room. “It’s a madhouse first thing in the morning, but business tapers off around lunch.”

Both of them fixed their eyes on me eagerly as I hurriedly tried to gauge if this was a legitimate opportunity.

In this moment, I realized my dad’s favorite phrase held merit.

You miss every shot you don’t take.

With his voice echoing in my mind, I took a leap of faith.

“I already have some ideas, if you’re interested,” I offered, genuinely excited for the first time in a long time.

Rory took me on a tour of both levels as she explained the meaning behind the name Sips with Spice. Obviously, “Sips” was geared toward Greer’s side of the business, and while “Spice” could have as well, it was actually meant to represent the romance bookstore housed on the second floor. I grabbed my laptop from my car and parked myself up here while Rory and Greer tended to the occasional customer until closing.

This level was just as cozy as the first with shelves full of romance novels organized by sub-genre lining the wall opposite the staircase. In the middle of the space stood a long table with best-sellers and themed items on display. I sat on a fluffy teal couch surrounded by matching armchairs in front of a large arched window while Rory’s desk was situated in the back.

I decided to pitch individualized marketing strategies I felt would benefit the business as a whole. Rory needed more visibility while Greer needed more midday foot traffic .

After closing, we reviewed the outlines I created and discussed a potential implementation campaign.

“Where do we sign?” Rory laughed when I’d finished my spiel, but Greer looked contemplative as she combed over the documents.

“When does this offer expire?” Greer asked, and I took a moment to consider my options. I needed clients, but it wasn’t smart business to extend open-ended agreements.

“Two weeks,” I finally answered, and Greer nodded.

“We need to speak with our financial advisor first,” Greer said, raising a brow at a pouting Rory.

“Completely understandable,” I grinned, then tilted my second cup of tea up, draining it in one long gulp. “I’d better be going,” I said, peering out the window and noting the dark of night.

“Where are you staying?” Rory asked.

“An older farmhouse on Bent Creek Road,” I replied as I gathered up my things.

“The old Bennett place?” Greer questioned skeptically.

“That’s the one,” I sighed then glanced up in time to watch the sisters as they shared a knowing look.

Of course everyone in town knew what a dump it was and steered clear. Maybe if I secured enough income, I would take Frank to court. Though that possibility was unlikely considering I only had one official client, and he had been with me since my move.

“Here!” Rory said and thrust her phone at me as I moved toward the door. “Put your number in,” she demanded, leaving no room for objection.

I grinned as I added my contact information then handed the phone back to her. She started typing, and before I could speak, my phone dinged with a new message.

“Now you have mine,” she said as another ding sounded, announcing a second message. “Greer’s, too.”

“Thanks,” I said, then exchanged farewells with the sisters before stepping out into the night.