Destined (The Rangers of Ridge County #1)

Chapter Twenty-One

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

MILLIE

H e made my favorite meal.

He didn’t just buy the version I had come to enjoy from Geyser Grill. He prepared this from scratch.

And it was on display in the cutest red scalloped rim casserole dish, and the chocolate cake was sitting under a glass dome.

“Emmett,” I whispered, stepping toward the kitchen’s center island where he had arranged two place settings. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything, Millie,” he replied. “It was my turn to extend the olive branch.”

He momentarily disappeared into what I assumed was the pantry before emerging with tea bags.

“I even ran over to Sips to snag some of the Earl Grey tea Greer said you love,” he confessed. “Would you like a mug?”

All I could do was nod my head in response.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, looking at me with concern.

“I’m wondering if you should pinch me,” I mumbled. “Because this seems too good to be true.”

“I could,” he rumbled as his gaze narrowed on my ass. “But I’m not sure you’d appreciate the location of said pinch.”

I laughed, and it felt damn good. Our personalities actually meshed effortlessly now that we seemed to have gotten over the initial awkwardness .

Maybe we could make this work after all.

“I’d love that,” I answered.

His eyebrows shot up into his dirty blonde hairline, pulling my attention to how much it had grown out—long enough I could run my fingers through and latch onto it.

Obviously, both our thoughts jumped the line we’d drawn at friends.

So I did my best to reel it back in. I shook my head and threw a smile his way.

“I’d love a mug of tea,” I clarified with a smirk.

He grunted, and I chuckled as he turned to start heating some water.

“Is there anything I can help with?” I asked as I appreciated his backside.

“No, I’m just hoping the lasagna is still warm,” he said from where he’d positioned himself in front of the coffee maker.

“And you made this yourself?” I asked.

“From scratch,” he answered.

“I can’t wait to try it,” I said, impressed by the amount of effort he’d put into this. “I’m sure it’s delicious.”

He grabbed the water he’d warmed with the coffee maker and began steeping my tea.

He stepped toward me, and our hands brushed as he extended the mug my way. I took it and lifted it to my nose. Breathing in deeply with my eyes closed, I basked in the moment appreciating the peacefulness of it.

I opened my eyes to find Emmett staring back at me.

Suddenly I felt too warm.

Looking away, I moved back around the island and sat down.

Emmett followed my lead and pulled out the chair beside mine. He angled it a little in my direction but remained standing to cut the lasagna.

He pulled a couple slices of garlic bread from where they were hidden behind the cake and turned to grab a tossed salad from the refrigerator.

“You really did make such an effort, Emmett,” I whispered, feeling a little overwhelmed at how emotional I was getting .

“This is the least you deserve,” he replied with conviction, leaving no room for me to doubt the truth behind his words.

“I think that was better than my mother’s,” I admitted. “But if you tell her I said that, I will deny it until my dying breath.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” he said with a wink.

We had migrated into the living room and were currently sitting on opposite ends of the couch. An action movie rolled across the television screen, but it was simply serving as background noise to our conversation.

He was relaxed in a way I’d never seen him before with an arm thrown over the back of the couch and the other propped on the armrest, holding a tumbler of bourbon.

He was wearing worn blue jeans and a gray tee that accentuated his muscular chest and arms. To top it off, he was barefoot.

I had collected quite a scrapbook of mental snapshots for later use.

My feet were tucked up under me, and I was sitting at an angle that allowed me to prop my elbow on the back of the couch and dangle my glass of wine in front of my mouth.

“What brought you to Montana?” he asked.

The question caught me off guard, even though I knew he was bound to ask.

I kept silent for a minute collecting my thoughts.

“I had a lot of expectations for my life,” I said. “By twenty-nine, I thought I would be married with a couple kids, navigating parenthood with my husband and juggling a demanding marketing job.”

He sat there listening intently while I powered on. “Reality turned out to be quite different when I found out my fiancé had been cheating on me with my best friend.”

I took a sip of my wine and stared down at the couch cushions.

“What a fucking idiot,” Emmett scoffed, the fingers of his free hand reaching down to caress my knee.

“It hurt a lot at first,” I admitted. I realized two of the most important people in my life at the time hadn’t cared about me at all, and that changed the trajectory of my life.

“They started dating a few days after I ended our five-year relationship,” I continued, watching his fingers as they drew small circles atop my leggings. “Which would have been fine if we didn’t all work for the same company.”

The bewildered look on Emmett’s face had me laughing despite the heavy topic we were discussing.

“My sentiments exactly,” I chuckled.

I cringed recalling how different my life had been a year ago.

Emmett repositioned, and I immediately missed his soothing touch.

He leaned forward and peered into his empty tumbler then back up at me.

“I hate what happened to you,” he murmured. “But I’m really glad it brought you here.”

Shocked by his admission, I slowly nodded in acknowledgement and agreement.

I was glad I’d ended up here, too.

“Did you know my dad was the sheriff before me?” he asked.

I was too stunned by his declaration to speak but managed to shake my head no.

“Well, he was,” he gritted out. “And I always wanted to be just like him. But I feel like an imposter trying to fill shoes two sizes too big for me,” he said before hanging his head.

I had been vulnerable, and I knew this was him trying to reciprocate. It broke my heart to see him so deflated.

“Emmett, I can tell you with certainty that this community is thankful to have you as their sheriff,” I stated. “I obviously didn’t know your dad, but I can’t imagine he’d be anything but immensely proud of the sheriff you have become.”

Unsure if it was his openness or the wine giving me liquid courage, but I sat my glass on the end table closest to me and moved to sit beside him. Our legs bumped, and I took his tumbler then placed it on the floor at my feet.

I touched his cheek and gently turned his face toward me.

I waited until his gaze met mine before dropping my hand and saying, “Don’t doubt your ability to make a difference. You are dedicated. You are dutiful. I believe in you. The people of Ridge County believe in you. You were destined for this.”

His hand came up to cup my jaw, followed by his thumb that caressed my lower lip.

I leaned in just as he said, “You’re a good friend, Millie.”

Rearing back as if I’d been struck, I scrambled to my feet. I almost kicked his tumbler before reaching to grab it and starting for the kitchen

I read the situation all wrong, and he was trying to let me down gently—which was exactly what a friend should do.

In my haste to put distance between us, I threw an “it’s getting late” over my shoulder and waited for him to follow me.

I would walk back to my house if I knew I wouldn’t get lost.

“Millie,” he called after me. “Wait.”

“I really should be getting home,” I stated, needing to leave before I embarrassed myself even more than I already had. But the next words out of his mouth had me stopping short.

“How about a game of Ticket to Ride?”

“Excuse me?” I asked, perplexed.

“Ticket to Ride,” he said again, as if I should know what he was referencing.

“You repeating the same words is not making things any clearer,” I huffed—mortified at this point.

I was no stranger to sex, but I had never heard of this before.

Not to mention, he hadn’t even wanted to kiss me a few moments ago when the perfect opportunity arose.

“It’s a board game,” he stated, and my cheeks flamed in embarrassment as I recalled Greer and Rory mentioning Ranger Family Game Night.

“I’ve never played before,” I admitted, finally turning to face him.

“It’s pretty straightforward,” he offered. “And with me as your teacher, I’m certain you’ll be a quick study. ”

If we were going to be friends, he was going to have to nix the innuendos.

“You’re going down, Emmett Ranger,” I replied.

After three games, I was pissed.

“You have to be cheating,” I spat. “There is no way you won by almost a hundred points each game.”

“There is a lot of strategy to this game, and it’ll take some time for you to figure out yours,” he said like that was supposed to be comforting.

“I don’t think you understand how competitive I am, Emmett,” I gritted out angrily.

“Oh, I’m pretty sure I do,” he smirked. “You made a death threat against me, the county sheriff, when I blocked the route to New Orleans.”

“It cost me twenty points!” I exclaimed, still upset over that move.

His laugh caught me off guard, but I continued to scowl at him.

“I can’t believe I stayed for this,” I grumbled.

“Admit it,” he prodded. “You had fun.”

“Maybe,” I mumbled.

“Definitely,” he clarified, continuing to smirk at me.

“Fine,” I admitted. “It was fun, but I want a rematch soon.”

“I think that can be arranged,” he said as he put the game away.

We headed outside, and I climbed into the cab of his truck while rubbing my hands together.

Emmett cranked the heat up even more as we started for my house.

“Thank you for dinner and a fun evening,” I said.

“You’re welcome,” he replied. “Hopefully we can do this again soon.”

“Maybe we can invite Greer and Rory next time,” I chuckled. “They can help me prove you’re cheating at Ticket to Ride.”

His hands tightened on the steering wheel, and I worried I might have offended him with the snide comments. No one liked a sore loser.

“I’m sorry if I offended you,” I said, regretting my accusation. “I don’t actually think you’re a cheater.”

“It’s not that,” he sighed. “I don’t like the idea of sharing you with my sisters.”

“Well…” I stammered, not expecting his admission. “They are my best and only friends in the area, so…”

Honestly, I’d assumed we would spend most of our time together in a group setting with his sisters—especially after he’d rejected me.