Destined (The Rangers of Ridge County #1)

Chapter Twelve

CHAPTER TWELVE

MILLIE

A knock sounded, and Jet raised his head in suspicion. But I excitedly sprung from the couch and made my way to the front door, throwing it open.

Two familiar faces smiled back from where they stood on the other side of the threshold.

“Mom! Dad!” I exclaimed, so happy to see them after months apart.

“There’s our girl!” they shouted in unison as I beckoned them inside, out of the snow.

They were dressed for a Montana winter in the brand new gear I urged them to purchase for the trip. Mom shrugged out of her purple knee-length coat and matching toboggan before running a hand through her graying shoulder-length cut. Dad followed suit, removing his heavy black coat and earmuffs that coordinated well with his salt and pepper hair and goatee. I hung their outerwear on hooks by the door as they removed their boots and rolled their luggage into the hallway.

“How was the flight?” I asked, waving them into the living room. But before making it more than a few steps, they flung their arms around me, and I melted into the embrace.

I might not have missed Tennessee, but I sure did miss my parents.

Martin Rushing was a force to be reckoned with. He had been a middle school principal. My middle school principal, in fact—making the most awkward stage of life even more so. Albeit unintentionally, but try telling that to a moody adolescent who had trouble making friends because of it. And while no one would have ever accused him of being a tyrant, he was straight-laced. Now retired, he had aged into his nonchalance with grace.

Trisha Rushing was his polar opposite. Mom had been the owner and curator of our hometown’s local antique store. She’d ecstatically been the first client I signed to my marketing firm years ago, and ever the loyalist, jumped ship when I did. It was likely because she didn’t actually need help with marketing, but that hadn’t stopped her from being my biggest supporter.

They were the only thing that had kept me in Tennessee after my split from Jared and the maelstrom that followed.

But I didn’t want to fall victim to the past any more than I already had, so I cast those depressing thoughts away.

We broke apart and made our way into the living room.

My parents stopped short when they spotted Jet, who yapped an enthusiastic sound at their appearance.

“Is that a cat?” Dad asked. “Or a dog?” Mom chuckled.

“The vet confirmed Jet is, indeed, a cat.” I laughed as I reached down to pet him. “Though, he does act more like a dog most of the time.”

He nuzzled into my hand as my parents watched on in fascination. We weren’t exactly animal people, but maybe if I had gotten one before now, I wouldn’t have stayed in such an unfulfilling relationship for so many years. It was obvious to me now, that relationship had been more about my desire for companionship than anything else. And in our short time together, Jet had already proven to be more loyal.

Despite the unconventional meeting, I was thankful for the black ball of fur curled up on my couch. So thankful I installed a cat door—allowing him to come and go as he pleased.

My parents didn’t venture any further into the room, and I knew they must be tired after such a long flight. I had hoped to delay showing them around the house, but it didn’t look like that was going to be an option. Regretfully, I clapped my hands together.

“Who wants a tour?”

“And this is your room,” I said, gesturing into the upstairs guest bedroom and avoiding their gazes. I tried to make the room as hospitable as possible, but there was only so much that could be done. The house was falling apart.

The other day, a piece of plaster fell from the ceiling in the living room, exposing the beams above. All I could do was watch in disbelief from my spot on the couch as dust swirled around me.

I asked Frank to fix it multiple times, but he couldn’t be bothered. So, following the instruction of a random do-it-yourself video, I attempted to patch the hole.

Only nine more months, and I was counting down the days.

I glanced over at them and found unease etched across their faces.

“Millie,” Dad started, but Mom silenced him with a not-so-subtle shake of her head. He cleared his throat before tugging their luggage into the room, leaving my mother to linger in the hallway with me. Her eyes were full of concern, and I sighed before sagging against the wall at my side.

“I know,” I murmured. There wasn’t anything she could say that I hadn’t already thought.

She stepped close, running a hand down my hair lovingly.

“We just worry about you,” she whispered. “It’s what parents do.” Pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead, she disappeared into the room.

“Now all you need is a tree!” Mom exclaimed after we finished hanging the last of the garland on the mantle.

I waited to decorate because it had been our annual tradition to do so together for as long as I could remember. And the Rushing family was not going to let something as trivial as a thousand miles between us get in the way of doing just that.

At least, that was my parents’ promise when I called them crying on Thanksgiving—upset about spending it alone.

“We could head into town, eat dinner at the grill, then walk to the tree lot,” I suggested.

I could hardly contain my excitement. With all the decorations and my parents here, the house almost felt like a home. Not quite, but close.

“Great idea,” Dad said, jumping to his feet.

Mom and I chuckled as we followed him to bundle in our winter gear before braving the cold.

On the way, we chatted about our plans for the next few days.

“We could go skiing,” I offered. Spruce Heights was a ski town nestled up in the mountain and offered all sorts of winter sporting options. I hadn’t ventured that far from Ranger Ridge but hoped to soon. After all, the owner was one of my only two clients. Currently.

After such a successful marketing campaign for Sips, other local businesses had reached out. With a few agreements drafted and ready to deliver after the holidays, I was feeling more confident than I had in a long time.

“Not sure that’s the best idea,” Dad winced, and mom patted his shoulder.

She looked at me and mouthed roller skating , and I fought to hold in a laugh. How could I have forgotten?

In middle school, my dad had organized a fundraiser at our local skating rink. I’d been so shocked when he skidded onto the rink. Though, not quite as shocked as he was when his feet flew out from under him—busting his ass and breaking his tailbone in one fell swoop.

“No to skiing, then,” I agreed, and he released a bated breath.

Pulling into the grill’s parking lot, I balked at how busy it was. “Guess everyone else had the same idea as us,” I mumbled, squeezing into the only open space.

“Must mean the food is good,” Dad said with a hopeful tone, and I let my laughter ring free this time.

“It is,” I confirmed as we made our way to the door.

Pushing it open, we were enveloped in the bustle of the place. The owners, Ronnie and Rita Geyser, directed the chaos like a well oiled machine. Ronnie—a plump white haired man with a Santa Claus hat on his head—could be seen through the serving window manning the grill. Rita—a slender woman with hair similar to my mother’s—had her wire rimmed glasses pushed atop her head as she slung piping hot plates to waitresses and tended to customers sitting across the counter from her. She wore a necklace of jingle bells, and upon further inspection, I noticed she wasn’t the only one.

I grinned, appreciating everyone’s festive spirit. Despite the crowd, the atmosphere remained upbeat, and a sign directed patrons to seat themselves. Spotting an open booth near the back, I started toward it with my parents in tow.

As we neared, I noticed the Ranger sisters in the booth directly in front of the one we were headed for, and my grin grew. Until I saw who sat across from them.

My smile drooped, but I worked hard to keep it in place as Rory’s gaze met mine. Her wave was so forceful, she knocked Greer with her elbow. Greer scowled at her sister while the man in front of them turned in his seat.

A pair of sharp green eyes blazed a trail up to meet mine, and my skin heated under Emmett’s inscrutable stare. Quickly dropping his gaze, I took in the rest of him. He was still in his sheriff’s uniform, but his sleeves were rolled up—exposing muscular forearms that rested on the table top. He took up the majority of the bench he was sitting on, and his size was intimidating even though I towered over him in this position.

I glanced back up to find his eyes still on me and squirmed under his perusal.

“Millie!” Rory shouted over the noise, and I forced my attention to her.

“Hey!” I replied, matching her enthusiasm.

“Are these your parents?” she asked, smiling over my shoulder.

“Yes! Rory, Greer,” I pointed to each respectively as I made introductions. “Meet Martin and Trisha Rushing.”

“We’ve heard so much about you, girls,” Mom said as we slid into the booth behind them.

Once settled, Dad snatched a menu from where they were stashed behind the napkin dispenser, and I chuckled .

I intentionally placed myself so I wasn’t facing Emmett, but I could still feel his eyes on me—and it was intense. Sweat beaded underneath the scarf I had thrown on, and I clawed at it. Once the cool air kissed my neck, I calmed considerably and turned to find all the Rangers staring at me.

“And who else do we have here?” Mom asked, eyeing Emmett, and I cringed—realizing my omission.

“This is our brother, Emmett,” Rory said, throwing a grin at him. Surprisingly he returned it, and my jaw slackened at how it transformed his face.

So he could smile.

Just not at me.

Figures.

But I refused to acknowledge how much his callous behavior stung. If I just ignored him, his attitude couldn’t bother me, right?

“Nice to meet you,” he said as he nodded to my parents. They returned the sentiment.

“Sure is busy tonight,” I mentioned, referencing the customers who continued to spill through the door.

“Everyone’s in town for the parade,” Greer stated as she pointed to the jingle bells around Rory’s neck.

“Parade?” I questioned.

“The Jingle Bell Parade!” Rory grinned.

“It’s a town tradition,” Emmett said, and I frowned.

If it was such a big deal, why hadn’t I heard anything about it?

“We discussed it at the last town hall meeting,” he continued, possibly sensing my confusion. “You weren’t there,” he added. And I balked, surprised he had even noticed my absence—much less remembered it.

“I had the flu,” I mumbled, recalling the dreadful week with clarity. I spent it cooped inside the farmhouse—wanting to be anywhere else but not having the strength to leave. A predicament that kept me flashing back to the time I felt trapped in my hometown. And fuck that.

“What’s good here?” Dad interrupted, tapping the menu with his knuckle and looking to the Rangers for their suggestions.

“Depends on what you like,” Greer said, seeming genuinely happy to discuss food with my dad. “The prime rib sandwich is a staple, and this one’s favorite,” she continued—pointing to Emmett. “I personally enjoy the pizza,” she added.

“I noticed the special tonight is lasagna,” Dad mused.

“Can’t go wrong with any of the grill’s specials,” Emmett voiced, and I nodded my head—at least this was one thing we could agree on.

A waitress appeared, hurriedly taking our order.

We kept things simple with three orders of lasagna.

The Rangers finished their meals, and Emmett covered his sisters’ bills when the same waitress came to collect the check and clear the table. He glanced up and caught me staring. But this time, I didn’t look away—making him smirk.

He kept surprising me tonight, and it had me wondering if I’d been too quick to judge. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all.