Chapter 3
Chapter Three
RORY
The second I hopped the fence surrounding my parents’ house, a familiar calm washed over me, and the stress I’d been dealing with since my confrontation with Cord in the parking lot of The Tap Room two nights ago faded away.
The ranch I’d grown up on had been my safe place all my life. The river that ran through my parents’ land was where I’d learned to swim and where my father taught me to fish. This was where my mom had taught me to cook and knit and sew, where my dad taught me to hunt and ride horses.
Growing up the only child of Bill and Becky Hightower, I learned all things girly from my mom and all things boy from my dad. I could prance around in sky-high heels and rock a little black dress as well as shoot a gun and bait a hook.
My childhood had been full of love and fun and great memories I’d carry with me always. So whenever things became too much, when I was struggling on my own, I’d come here to be surrounded by everything I held so dear. It was the best balm for the wounds adulthood could leave on a soul.
When I turned twenty, I’d moved into an apartment a few blocks from the bar. It was a nice space, perfect for a single woman, but my dream had always been to start a family and have a house built for us on the land that held so many great memories.
When I turned thirty, I decided to stop waiting for that family, and I had a house built for myself with the thought that one day it wouldn’t just be me living there. I never imagined another decade would pass without that dream being fulfilled.
I heard the TV the moment I stepped inside.
“Mama? Daddy?” I called as I kicked my shoes off by the front door, a habit from my childhood that still stuck with me.
This ranch had been in my family even longer than the bar, and dirty boots were a hazard of working the land.
But my mom kept a spotless house, and it drove her crazy whenever Dad tracked mud and dirt onto her clean floors.
Once I was old enough to walk, I started following my dad around like a shadow, getting just as dirty, if not more so.
Hence the rule that no shoes were allowed in the house.
“In the kitchen, honey.”
I stopped in the living room on the way to the kitchen, leaning over the back of my dad’s recliner to place a kiss on his cheek. “Hi, Daddy.”
He turned his attention from the TV and smiled up at me. “Hey, dumplin’,” he said with excitement, like he hadn’t seen me in months. “Well if this isn’t the best surprise I’ve had all day.”
“You had other surprises today?”
“He sure did,” Mom answered, coming into the room while drying her hands on a dish towel. She gave Dad a withering look. “Doctor told him today he needed to cut down on his sodium and alcohol intake.”
I looked from the beer bottle back to his face and arched an eyebrow.
Dad scowled and turned back to the baseball game he’d been watching. “You can go ahead and wipe that look right off your face. I am who I am. I’m not gonna let a little thing like high blood pressure change how I live my life.”
Mom looked at me and rolled her eyes at his unflinching stubbornness. “He says that now, but that man doesn’t have the first clue how to cook and hasn’t made a meal for himself in forty-five years. I’ve already thrown out all the salt in the house.”
“Damn it, woman! You better not have.”
She turned her attention back to him, giving him a look that just dared him to throw more attitude her way.
Bill Hightower was all man, protective and strong and old-school alpha, wanting to take care of all that was his. But he wasn’t a stupid man. Becky Hightower ruled the roost, and he knew that just as well as I did.
She’d grown up in Hope Valley just like him, but where my dad’s family was blue-collar, ranching and owning a bar for a living, my mom’s folks were different.
My grandfather sat on the town council and played golf at the country club.
My grandmother was on the board of the hospital and ran every charity she possibly could.
The first time my parents saw each other was during the town’s annual Founder’s Festival. Mom was Miss Hope Valley, riding on the big float in a ballgown with her sash and tiara. Dad had been in the crowd watching the festivities in dusty jeans and muck-covered boots.
It was love at first sight. They got married not long after graduation and had me five years later.
My mom was still just as beautiful and classy as she’d been back then.
Despite being a rancher’s wife, she woke up each morning and did full hair and makeup.
She wasn’t a stranger to jeans and boots, but she still liked to rock heels whenever possible.
Dad knew she did it for him. She was proud to be his wife and carried the Hightower name with pride and total grace, and because of that, he bent over backward to give her everything she could ever want.
They could still be sickeningly lovey-dovey with each other when they weren’t at each other’s throats. And even when they fought, they did it hilariously.
That was the kind of man I wanted. I wanted a man who’d look at me every time I entered a room like I was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, even forty-five years down the road.
The kind of man who’d give me back talk even though he knew he’d cave and give me my way.
The kind of man who’d work himself to the bone to give me everything I could ever want because he knew I’d do the exact same for him.
“I sure as hell did, and you’ve got no say in the matter unless you wanna starve.”
“Oh, for the love of….” He looked up to the ceiling and blew out a frustrated breath.
Mom slapped her hands onto her hips and scowled. “Well excuse me for wanting to keep you around a little while longer, you crotchety pain in the ass.”
He lifted his beer and took a long swig, keeping his petulant gaze on her the entire time. I bit my lip to keep from laughing as my mom let out a harrumph and stomped back into the kitchen.
“Daddy,” I said in quiet admonishment.
“What?” He shrugged unrepentantly. “If I didn’t push her buttons, she’d be bored out of her skull.”
I giggled and shook my head. “I don’t think you need to worry about high blood pressure. Pretty sure she’ll kill you long before it has the chance.”
Dad scoffed and finished off his beer. “Don’t I know it, dumplin’. Don’t I know it.”
Giving him a pat on his arm, I left him to his game and followed my mom into the kitchen.
Standing at the counter, she was dressed in tan pumps, a pair of lightweight red ankle pants and a trendy twinset, moving about as if the outfit was just as comfortable as pajamas while she sprinkled flour onto a ball of dough and began kneading.
I pulled up a stool and watched as she worked, just like I’d done since I was a little girl. “What are you making?”
“Chicken pot pie.”
“With Dad’s new dietary restrictions, that should be interesting.”
She let out a good-natured scoff. “I make it, he’ll damn well eat it if he knows what’s good for him.”
I giggled. “Believe me, he knows what’s good for him.”
Mom looked at me over her shoulder and shot me a sly wink. “I know.”
Pulling out her rolling pin, she began rolling out the dough.
It never failed to amaze me how easy she made everything look.
There wasn’t a single stain on her clothes or flour streaked across her face.
She might have taught me how to cook, but I’d never mastered making it look as easy as she did.
Sure, my food tasted just as good as hers, but by the time I finished, I was wearing most of what I’d prepared.
“Not that I don’t love the company, but what brings you by, honey bunch?”
“No reason. Just felt like stopping in,” I mumbled. Unable to look at my mom when I lied, I cast my attention to the butcher block counter and began tracing the lines with my finger.
“Pfft.” At her humor-filled huff, I glanced up as she turned to me completely. “My girl’s always been able to do anything she puts her mind to.” One delicate black brow arched toward her hairline as she finished with “Except lie.”
“I’m not lying,” I defended.
She wrapped the flattened dough around the rolling pin and gently began laying it across the pie dish as she continued. “Uh-huh. And I’m the Queen of England’s long-lost American cousin.”
My forehead pinched into a frown as I grumbled, “You know, your ability to read me made my teen years a whole lot less fun.”
Mom’s face split into the very smile that won her nearly every pageant she’d ever been in. “Reading you has nothing to do with it. You’re just a terrible liar, sweetheart. Always have been.”
“That’s not true! I lie just fine, thank you very much.”
Her head came up, her eyes glinting with challenge as she asked, “Yeah? Remind me again, what exactly happened to that antique porcelain doll your gramma gave you for your fourteenth birthday?”
Ah hell. “I told you,” I started, dropping my gaze back to the counter once more as I mumbled, “I left my bedroom window open, and a bird flew in and knocked it off my dresser.”
“And I rest my case.”
“All right, so I lied,” I confessed, throwing my hands in the air. “But can you really blame me for breaking that thing? It gave me nightmares for weeks!”
Mom at least had the good grace to wince. “It was pretty hideous.”
“I don’t know what Gramma was thinking. That damn doll looked like something out of a horror movie.
” That wasn’t an exaggeration in the slightest. After she gave it to me, lovingly setting it on my dresser so I could see it every time I woke up—her words—I slept with one eye open, convinced that demon doll would come to life one night and try to kill me in my sleep.
“Well, whatever brought you by, I’m just glad to see my baby girl,” Mom stated on a laugh as she put the chicken pot pie in the oven to bake and set the timer. “You staying for dinner? There’ll be plenty.”
Hopping off the stool, I grabbed a dishcloth and ran it under the water at the kitchen sink before moving back to the counter to wipe it down for my mom. “Thanks, but I can’t tonight. I’m actually going on a date.”
I looked up to gauge her reaction to that news and found her bright blue eyes—eyes I’d inherited—glinting with understanding. “Ah, I see.”
My chest grew uncomfortably tight as I turned back to the counters and started scrubbing harder.
Being so close to my mom, I’d always shared everything with her.
She knew how hard and fast I’d fallen for Cord, and she knew how badly it hurt when Laurie came back into his life.
She’d been the shoulder I cried on when he pushed me away, then again after the kiss we shared that broke my heart.
“I should’ve moved on a long time ago,” I admitted.
Rounding the island, she came over to me and placed her hand on mine, forcing me to stop wiping the already-gleaming countertops. “Rory, look at me.” My lips pursed as I blew out a heavy sigh and gave her my full attention. “You sure this is what you want?”
I thought back to two nights ago, my nose stinging as I fought back the urge to cry. “It doesn’t matter what I want, Mom. I’ve wanted him for years, and you know how that’s turned out. I’ve been sitting stagnant for too long, waiting for him to see me, and what do I have to show for it?”
Her eyes grew damp and shiny with sadness for me. “Oh, honey.”
“I’m just tired of being alone,” I said in a small, quiet voice. “I have to let him go.”
“All right, sweetheart,” she said quietly, reaching up to cup my cheeks. “I just want you to be happy, that’s all.”
I wrapped my fingers around her wrist and squeezed. “Thanks.”
“Just promise me one thing. You’ve always refused to settle. Don’t start now.”
I had the best mother in the world. “I promise, Mama,” I said with a tiny smile.
“And you make certain to order the most expensive thing on the menu,” she said emphatically. “’Cause my girl’s worth it.”
The tension broke, and I threw my head back on a laugh.
“What’re you two cacklin’ about in here?” Dad asked, coming into the kitchen. He moved to the fridge, grabbed a beer, and uncapped it before turning back to us and taking a swig.
“Your daughter’s goin’ on a date tonight,” Mom answered with a facetious grin.
Dad promptly began choking on his beer. Coughing and sputtering, he banged on his chest until he could breathe normally. Once he could, he gave Mom a glare. “Fresh hell. That was just cruel, Beck.”
He looked to me then, his face ashen like he was about to be sick.
My dad wasn’t just protective. He tended to go a little overboard when it came to me dating.
The boy who picked me up for my very first date pulled up in front of our house to the sight of my father skinning a deer with his biggest, sharpest hunting knife.
My prom date showed up to find Dad cleaning his guns.
All ten of them. Then there was my first serious boyfriend.
We broke up shortly after he went hunting with my dad. Just the two of them.
To this day I still didn’t know what he did to poor Philip, but I imagined the worst. I was just thankful he’d come out of those woods at all.
“Okay, that’s my cue to leave,” I said, biting back my humor as Dad continued to stare daggers at Mom. “I’m out before you two can kill each other.”
I stood on my tiptoes to kiss my father’s cheek before moving to my mom to do the same. “Love you guys.”
“Love you too, honey bunch,” Mom said. “Have fun on your date. And don’t forget what I said. You order the most expensive meal on the menu.”
“Don’t you dare!” Dad spit unhappily. “You order that, you’ll have to put out. Then I’ll have to hunt the son of a bitch down and kill him.”
“William Robert Hightower!” Mom shrieked. “That’s a terrible thing to say and completely untrue!”
“It sure as hell is true,” he argued back.
And as the two of them went at it, I made my escape, waiting until I was in my car with the engine running to burst into laughter.