A Randall Thanksgiving (12 page)

“Remember, you represent the Sheriff’s Office, either on duty or off, so don’t do anything that would reflect badly on us.”

“You take things a bit too seriously, don’t you, Harry?” Dale asked with a big grin.

“I don’t think so,” he muttered, and took another bite of his hamburger. He would prefer not to have this conversation with Dale right now.

“Say, where do you and Melissa go to have fun around here?”

“Melissa and I aren’t dating, Dale. And the only place I know of is the steak house with the bar in it. It’s busy on the weekend.”

“What do you mean, you and Melissa aren’t dating?” Dale asked in surprise.

“It’s a long story, but it doesn’t matter, because she’s going back to France.”

Just saying those words evoked a vision of Melissa—her short hair, dark brown like most of the Randalls, those amazing blue eyes, and most of all, those incredible lips.

Harry stood up suddenly. “I’m going to walk the town.”

Before he could move, however, the door opened and a stranger entered. “
Excusez-moi.
I am looking for a Randall.”

It didn’t take a genius to realize the stranger was French. Or to immediately associate him with Melissa. After all, Rawhide didn’t have many foreign visitors.

With his heart sinking, Harry stepped forward. “Which Randall are you looking for?” As if there was any doubt!

“That is not your business!” the man exclaimed, his nose in the air. “Just tell me where.”

“I only asked because we have a lot of Randalls. There’s Jake, Pete, Brett, Chad, Josh, Rich, Russ, Toby, John, Jim…” Harry intentionally named only the men in the large family.

“Melissa Randall,” the stranger snapped, glaring at him.

“Melissa? Are you sure?”

“
Oui,
I am sure. She is my fiancée.”

In spite of the man’s accent, Harry understood his words, and his heart sank like a stone.

Had Melissa been playing a game with him? Not only was she going back to France, but she was also going to marry a Frenchman! She’d had no right…. Of course, he hadn’t asked her if she was involved with anyone before he’d kissed her.

Harry didn’t like that thought. He wanted to be angry with Melissa. Something he was doing a good job of without attaching any blame to himself.

Abruptly, he said, “I’ll take you. Come on.”

“I have my own car. I will follow you.”

“Yeah, you do that,” Harry muttered. “Dale, I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

He strode out of the office to the SUV parked in front. The stranger followed him. It occurred to Harry
that he hadn’t asked the man his name. But what did it matter? “Melissa’s fiancé” was sufficient.

All the way out to Griff’s place, he muttered under his breath, trying to think what to say to Melissa that would convey his disdain for her behavior. He wanted to sound cool and amused, but all the words he came up with were angry and hot.

“How dare you” wasn’t a good way to sound uninvolved. “What the hell were you doing, kissing me when you were already engaged?” definitely wouldn’t sound unfazed. Harry took a deep breath and unclenched his teeth as he pulled into the driveway of the Haney ranch. He checked for headlights in his rearview mirror, finally remembering the man following him.

He was still there.

Harry parked the SUV and was knocking at the door before the man had even parked his car.

Melissa swung open the door, first surprise and then pleasure appearing on her face.

He’d take care of that, Harry thought with almost grisly satisfaction.

“Harry, I didn’t expect you. I’m so glad you dropped by. Did you get off work early?”

“No. I’m here in an official capacity,” he practically growled. Her father reached the door by that time, but Harry ignored him. “I’ve brought you something you apparently lost.”

“What?”

“Your
fiancé!
” he roared, stepping aside.

“
Ma chérie,
I have missed you so!” the Frenchman said with enthusiasm, his arms extended to Melissa.

Even Harry, blinded by jealousy, noticed that she stepped backward, not forward.

“Your
what?
” Griff demanded.

“No! No, he’s not,” Melissa protested, still trying to back up, though her father was in her way.

“
Mais oui,
Melissa, you know it is true!”

“Go away, Pierre! I don’t want you here!”

“Are you telling the truth, Melissa?” Harry demanded at the same time.

Camille appeared behind Griff. “Why doesn’t everyone come in? It’s too cold to keep the door open. Oh, you must be Pierre. Were we expecting you?”

Harry almost snorted aloud. As if visitors from Paris dropped by every day!

“
Non,
it is a surprise for Melissa,” Pierre replied with a brilliant smile.

Judging by the stunned look in Melissa’s eyes, Harry thought, his arrival was more than a surprise. It was a shock.

M
ELISSA WANTED TO RUN AND
hide. She certainly didn’t want to respond to Pierre’s outstretched arms Nor did she want to face the anger in Harry’s eyes. But she was no longer a child. She had to deal with the mess. Even if it wasn’t her fault.

They entered the family room and Melissa immedi
ately chose a single chair, making it impossible for Pierre to get close to her.

The others took seats, too, at her mother’s invitation. Griff was the first to speak. “Melissa, is it true you’re engaged to this man?”

“No, it’s not, Dad,” she said hurriedly.

“But it is, Melissa. You know we made plans!” Pierre exclaimed.

“No! I mean, yes! But I canceled them!” She took a quick peek at Harry, but couldn’t bear his angry expression.

“You mean you
were
engaged to him?” her father demanded. “You never told us that!”

“I—I was going to tell you after I got here, but we broke off our engagement before I left Paris. And you know that, Pierre, so don’t play dumb!”

“What is this ‘play dumb’?” he asked.

“Acting like you don’t know what she’s talking about,” Harry explained helpfully.

“But,
chérie,
I do not want to end our agreement. I am here to win your heart.”

“No!” Melissa protested. She didn’t leave any room for hope in her response, but she knew Pierre was always sure he was right. About everything.

Pierre turned to her mother, “She is angry, but she does not mean what she says.”

John, who had been peacefully watching television before the room had been invaded, said, “Are we talking about the same Melissa?”

His sister glared at him, then thought better of her reaction. Maybe he could help her convince Pierre of her stubbornness. “You’d better listen to him, Pierre. I can be very difficult.”

“I do not even know this person. Why should I listen to him?”

“He’s my brother. He’s known me all my life.”

Camille stepped in. “Pierre, this is my son, John. John, this is your sister’s…friend from Paris.”

“Her fiancé,” Pierre corrected firmly. “Pierre de Leon.”

“Stop saying that! I’m not your fiancée,” Melissa said. She wasn’t sure how she would convince Pierre, but she was determined she would. She wanted him out of Rawhide.

“You must give me a chance to explain,
ma chère.
You asked too much of me. It is unreasonable of you to think I must remain faithful to you all my life. A man has needs.” He added that brilliant smile again, as if he thought it would convince her.

“Welcome to the twenty-first century, Pierre. American women don’t buy such trash!” Melissa responded.

Pierre looked at her father. “Tell her,
monsieur.
I am sure you understand what I have said.”

Griff, red-faced, immediately exclaimed, “Are you telling me that you cheated on my daughter?”

Pierre shrugged his shoulders. “Of course. A man must have several lovers. That does not mean he does not love his wife or take care of her.” Again he gazed at each male in the room, as if for confirmation.

Griff stood. “I agree with my daughter. You need to leave our home. My daughter will not marry someone like you.”

Pierre stood to face him. “My family is descended from royalty. She would be a fool to reject me. It is enough that I have come all this way.”

“No, it’s not!” Melissa spoke for herself. “Just go!”

“Where do I go? My flight does not leave until Sunday afternoon. I thought I would spend time here and make a better acquaintance with your parents.”

“Go back to Buffalo and find a hotel.” Melissa, as well as the rest of the people in the room, knew there was no hotel in Rawhide.

“No. I must stay here to convince you,
ma chère.
” With that, he sat back down.

Camille broke the stunned silence. “I’m sorry, Pierre, but I think it’s best you don’t stay here.”

“I think I know where he can stay,” Harry interjected.

“Where?” Griff barked.

“Dale has a second bedroom in the apartment. I’m sure he’d take Pierre in for three nights.”

“Who is this Dale and where does he live?” Pierre demanded testily.

“He’s another deputy in the Sheriff’s Office. He was there when you came in, and his apartment is just across the street.”

Pierre gave an autocratic nod. “I accept.”

“I’ll have to call Dale and get his okay.” Harry looked at Camille for permission to use the phone.

She nodded and rose to escort him to the phone in the kitchen. She whispered, “Thank you, Harry.”

“No problem. I’m sure Dale will agree.”

A couple of minutes later he returned to a tense silence. “Dale says he’ll be glad to let you stay, Pierre. He owes the Randalls a lot and is happy to do anything for them.”

“Fine.” Melissa said, standing. “Now you have a place to stay. And be sure you don’t miss your plane on Sunday!”

“Where will I eat? I do not cook for myself!” Pierre said.

Harry had the answer. “The café is across the street from your apartment. You can take all your meals there.”

“Ah,
bon.
And you will join me for lunch tomorrow, Melissa?”

“No!” she said, amazed, once again, by his audacity, “I’m not accompanying you anywhere.”

“Dear,” Camille said softly.

“But, Mom—”

“I’m not saying I want you to marry this man. I don’t. But he is alone in a strange place. I think you should accompany him to lunch tomorrow.”

Melissa gave in to her mother’s wishes. “Fine. Not that it’ll do him any good.” And with that, she stalked out of the family room.

By the time she made it to her bedroom, the tears she’d held back were flowing freely. Swiping at them, she threw herself on her bed. Why did Pierre have to
follow her—to Rawhide, of all places? Everyone in town would know the story in about half an hour.

But the most important person had actually witnessed the scene. Harry.

She’d never forget the look on his face when he’d said, “Your fiancé.”

Becoming engaged to Pierre had been a colossal mistake, she knew now. He’d swept her off her feet about a year ago when they’d met at a sidewalk café on the Left Bank, where she’d gone to do some sketches. Suave and worldly, he’d wowed her and wooed her, until she couldn’t resist dating him, being with him, and finally accepting his proposal.

She’d overlooked a lot, how he hadn’t approved of her apartment, her friends. How he’d tried to blind her to his faults—numerous as they were—by impressing her with his family’s wealth and position. But in the end, nothing about Pierre de Leon had impressed her—not when she’d seen him with another woman.

She’d taken his ring off her hand and thrown it at him, and she stalked out, she’d told him the engagement was off and she never wanted to see him again.

Why hadn’t that convinced him?

And more importantly, she thought now, through her tears, how was she going to convince Harry?

Despite having little sleep, Harry came in to work early to get his workout over for the day. He intended to be standing outside to watch Melissa meet Pierre. Harry wanted to be sure she didn’t join him in his apartment. Though what he would do if she did, he didn’t know.

He gritted his teeth. If she did that, he’d never kiss her again. Or talk to her, for that matter.

He shrugged off the other deputies’ questions about why he was in so early. In the weight room he tried to do too much, a kind of macho response that he didn’t want to think about. After he finished his workout, he showered and dressed and entered the Sheriff’s Office.

“Hey, Harry, here’s a message for you,” one of the day guys called out.

Harry took the slip of paper and stared at it. He hadn’t expected a call from Melissa. Was she phoning to tell him she was going back to France with Pierre?

He dialed the number with foreboding. When Camille answered, he said, “Melissa left a message for me to call.”

“Yes, I know, Harry. She left already, but she wanted you to go to lunch with her and Pierre. And I want you to go, too. I don’t trust that man!”

“Me, neither, but I can’t talk Melissa out of anything. She has to make her own decision.”

“Of course, I agree. But I’d feel better if you go with her. Could you?”

“Yeah, I could go for an hour. But are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Yes, I do. Thank you very much.”

“Okay. Will she come here before she goes to the café, or should I meet her there?”

“She said she’d head to your office.”

“Okay, Camille. Thanks.”

After he hung up the phone, he stepped into Mike’s office to go over some business. The sheriff was curious about the Frenchman, but Harry didn’t say much about him.

“I may drop by the café to meet him,” Mike mused. “I could try out my French.”

“Sure, why not?” Harry said, his voice tight. He stepped outside the office to wait for Melissa. He didn’t want to discuss anything in front of his coworkers.

Five minutes later, she pulled into a parking space close to the office, got out of the car and approached him. “Did you talk to Mom?”

“Yes.” He wasn’t going to make it easy for her.

“Will you go to lunch with me and Pierre?”

“I told your mother I would, but I have some conditions.”

“What are they?”

“You sit beside me, not Pierre. You don’t go anywhere with him no matter what he says. And at the end of an hour, I have to be at work again, so you go home. Not with Pierre.”

“I don’t
want
to go anywhere with him!” she exclaimed, her voice full of anger.

“Do you agree to those terms?” Harry asked, not easing his stance.

“Yes, of course.”

“Good. Then let’s go.”

He didn’t touch her during their short walk. They both saw Pierre come out of Dale’s apartment and wave to Melissa. When they reached the door to the café, they stood beside it, waiting as he crossed the street.

“Bonjour, ma chère,”
he said, putting his hands on her shoulders and bending down to kiss her.

Melissa jerked out of his hold. “Harry is coming to lunch with us.”

Pierre turned to stare at him. “You are not on duty?” he asked, looking at his uniform shirt.

“No.” Harry put his hand on Melissa’s back to guide her into the restaurant.

Pierre frowned. “You are a friend of Melissa? You have known her many years?”

Harry didn’t want to answer that second question. “Long enough,” he replied.

Pierre stared at him, not clear about what he’d said. Then the Frenchman realized he was being left behind, and hurried after them. When he reached the booth they had chosen, he found Melissa sitting against the wall and Harry firmly in place beside her.

“Have a seat, Pierre,” Harry said calmly, indicating the bench across from him and Melissa.

“But it is right that
I
sit with Melissa. She is my fiancée.”

Harry shook his head and clucked his tongue. “We have an expression in the United States, Pierre. ‘Wake up and smell the coffee.’” Seeing his confused expression, Harry made his meaning clear. “Melissa broke off your engagement.” With a snap, he opened his menu. “Now, I can recommend the enchiladas.”

Pierre stood there, sputtering. Then, as if instructed to compose himself, he took a breath and puffed out his chest. “What are enchiladas?” he asked.

Harry gave him a detailed explanation until the waitress came to take their drink orders.

“I have not seen your wine list,” Pierre said, finally sitting down.

Beatrice put her hand on her ample hip. “Honey, don’t get cute with me. I’ve got other customers.”

Harry smiled at Beatrice, who’d been working at the café for decades. “I’ll take care of this.” He turned to Pierre. “This is small-town Wyoming, not France,” he
said. “Wine is not served at everyday restaurants. Here you drink beer, iced tea or water. So which would you like?”

Pierre looked outraged. “I will have water.”

Beatrice wrote that down, along with Harry and Melissa’s orders.

But when she brought Pierre a glass of water, he blustered, “What is this? Where is the bottle?”

“It’s water, honey.” Beatrice had lost her patience. “Take it or leave it.”

He shooed her away with his hand, then looked at Melissa. “She is rude.”

Melissa laughed, and Harry had to struggle not to join her. He was having too much fun trying to get Pierre’s goat.

He asked how Pierre knew English so well.

“I studied at Oxford for four years.”

It figured he’d go to a fancy school. No ordinary one for Pierre. For some reason, that annoyed Harry. But annoyance was quickly replaced by amusement again when Beatrice brought Pierre his enchiladas. The man didn’t know what to make of his food, while Harry and Melissa dug right in.

When they finished, Harry got up to go to work, Melissa following him out of the booth.

“Goodbye, Pierre,” she said coolly. “Have a nice trip back.”

“But we will visit now that the officer must return to work.”

“No, we will not.” Melissa started out of the café.

“
Non!
” Pierre yelled, and stood to grab her arm.

“Take your hands off her!” Harry ordered, advancing on him.

“Is there a problem here, Harry?” a deep voice asked.

He turned to find his boss no more than fifteen feet away.

“No, I—” he began, but Mike interrupted him. The sheriff walked up to Pierre and rattled off something in French. Whatever he said made the man’s face heat up.

Harry leaned in to Melissa. “What’s he saying?”

“Trust me, you don’t want to know.” She took hold of his arm and started walking. “Lets get out of here.”

“I
S SOMETHING ON YOUR
mind?” Camille asked Melissa the next morning, catching her by surprise.

“I—I’ve been thinking about Harry.” She felt her cheeks flush, just saying his name.

“He’s a wonderful man. I’m surprised some woman hasn’t snatched him up by now.”

“Well, it won’t be Betsy. I’ve steered Dale in her direction.”

“Why did you do that?” Camille asked calmly.

“To— Uh, because I thought they made a good couple.” Melissa had been about to say because she wasn’t going to let the nurse get hold of Harry, but that was a little too much honesty to share.

“Well, there are other women,” Camille said before she took a sip of her coffee.

Her mother could always read her, Melissa mused.
“I know,” she said glumly, propping her chin in her hand. “Out of sight, out of mind.”

“Yes, too bad you’re going back to France.”

“I’m not staying in France, Mom.”

Camille stared at her daughter. “You’re not? When did you make this decision?”

“It’s been evolving slowly.” In truth, she’d been debating it even before she’d left Paris, but she’d made the decision a few days ago. Yesterday’s fiasco with Pierre had sealed the deal. “Don’t say anything to Dad yet. I won’t be staying in Rawhide, either. I want to start my own company and I’m thinking New York might be a good place.” She’d done some research on the Internet last night—rather, this morning. She hadn’t slept a wink all night. And she’d finally typed the letter to Monsieur Jalbert. “It’s the most cosmopolitan city. And I’ll be able to come home more often.”

“You’re not doing this because of my surgery, are you, dear? Because I promise I’ve got a few good years left in me.”

Melissa reached a hand across the table to clasp her mother’s. “I know you do, Mom. But no, that’s not the reason. I’ve grown restless in Paris, working with Monsieur Jalbert. He’s rather controlling.”

“I see.”

“I’ve learned a lot in the time I spent with him, but I’ve decided enough is enough. After the holidays, I’ll go back to Paris and pack up. By then, I will have decided where to set up my business.”

“This is exciting news for me, Melissa. I can fly to New York and see you whenever I want to. That’ll be terrific!”

“Yeah, and I can come home whenever I want. I can see all the family.”

“Yes, that will be lovely. Do you need a loan to start up your company? Because your father and I could—”

“No, Mom, thanks, but I’ve saved some money over the past six years, plus I have the trust fund Grandpa set up for me. Dad has sent me a statement every year.”

“Yes, your father is very good at what he does.”

“Does he prefer playing the stock market more than he does ranching?” Melissa asked suddenly. That thought had never occurred to her. Was that why he had turned the ranch over to her brother?

“Actually, I think so. Playing the stock market takes a lot of skill and constant reading, but it also involves the thrill of success. It takes a long year of hard work before a rancher knows if he’s been successful. Your father enjoys the excitement of the hunt for a good investment and the more immediate payoff.”

“I don’t think John realizes that he’s doing Dad a favor. Maybe I should mention that to him,” Melissa said slowly, considering that idea from all sides.

“Yes, it might be a good plan,” Camille said. “I hadn’t realized that John was struggling with his father’s decision until you said something earlier. It’s a good thing you came home for a lot of reasons, dear.”

“Thanks, Mom. And please don’t tell Dad about my decision just yet.”

“No, dear, I—”

The phone rang.

Melissa got up to answer it. “Hello?”

“Hi, it’s Harry.”

Melissa stepped out of the kitchen as far as the cord would let her. “Hi,” she replied, trying to control her breathing.

“I need to ask you a favor.”

“Sure.” She was so glad to hear from him after yesterday’s fiasco, she would’ve agreed to anything.

“I wondered if you’d join me for dinner at the steak house tonight? Before you say anything I have to tell you it will be surveillance, not a date.”

“Oh.” Almost immediately her high hopes were dashed.

“We’ll be with Mike and Caroline.”

“Okay.”

“You’ll go?” Harry asked, sounding surprised.

“Yes, I will. Shall I come to the Sheriff’s Office or meet you at the steak house? And what time?”

“Eight, and come to the office.”

“Okay.”

“Well…okay.” And he hung up the phone.

Melissa hung up, too. Clearly, Harry was still upset about Pierre. But it wasn’t her fault. She’d broken her engagement before she came home, and she wasn’t going to change her mind about that!

She returned to the table in a pensive mood.

“Something wrong?” her mother asked.

“You might say that. Harry just asked me out to dinner tonight.”

“H
AVE YOU TALKED TO
Melissa?” Mike asked as he came out of his office. “I can get Caro to—”

“I talked to her. She agreed.” Harry didn’t look up.

“Great. That’ll work. Dale, have you found someone?”

“Yeah. Betsy, one of the nurses at the hospital, said she’d help me out. She doesn’t work tonight.”

“Okay. We’re all set here. I hope we get lucky and catch the guy tonight. That would be a real feather in our cap. The boys in Buffalo would never forgive us,” Mike said with a grin.

“Uh, yeah, boss, that’ll be fine,” Harry responded in a bland tone.

“Is something wrong, Harry? When we talked about it earlier, you seemed to think this was a good idea.”

“No, it is a good idea! I just— I hope it works.”

“We sure don’t want a rapist from Buffalo thinking he can move his operation to Rawhide.”

“Exactly. We’re having a fair number of ladies coming here from Buffalo because of the cowboys pouring into town on the weekends.”

“Yeah,” Dale agreed. “It’s good for business at the steak house, but a serial rapist would ruin it.”

Mike nodded. “Okay, be ready at eight. Is Melissa coming here?”

“Yeah, she’ll be here,” Harry replied. He couldn’t believe that the first evening he took Melissa out would
be on police business. However, he felt awkward with Pierre in town. And even if the Frenchman wasn’t in Rawhide, the fact that Melissa was heading back to France, where Pierre lived, made Harry feel reluctant to kiss her anymore.

He stopped that thought. He
wanted
to kiss Melissa, but he didn’t think he should. That was the problem. His conscience wouldn’t let him do it. Damn. He guessed it was good that he wouldn’t have a chance to.

Shortly before eight that evening, Harry went upstairs and changed his shirt. He put on a holster at the small of his back, then added a corduroy jacket to cover the gun. When he saw Melissa’s car pull up, he hurried out of his apartment and down the stairs.

By the time he reached her vehicle, she was already standing beside it. He gave her an awkward greeting. “You, uh, are a couple of minutes early.”

“I didn’t want to be late.”

“Yeah, thanks. I’m sure Mike and Caroline are ready, but we can go inside out of the cold to check on—”

“Hi, guys,” Mike said from behind Harry. “You both ready to go?”

“Yes, I think we are,” Melissa said.

Harry turned around and nodded to his boss.

“Then let’s go have some steaks. I’m starving.”

Harry waited until Mike and Caroline had passed him. Then he indicated Melissa should follow the others. He stepped up beside her, but was careful not to touch her.