A Randall Thanksgiving

“I know, Mom, and I intended to come home before now, but—but I got busy and—”

“And then there was Pierre,” Griff growled.

“You told me you liked him!” Melissa protested.

“That was before I knew he was your lover!”

“Dad!”

“Griff!” Camille protested at the same time. Before Melissa could say anything else, her mother added, “You promised, Griff.”

“I know, but she asked!”

“Both of you, go to bed. I can’t handle the arguments this late at night!” Camille said in exasperation.

Both father and daughter, so much alike, immediately said they were sorry. Camille accepted their apologies but insisted she was heading to bed, and Griff immediately agreed to join her. They both kissed their daughter good-night and left the kitchen together.

Melissa stood there, thinking about one of the things she’d missed in her glamorous life in Paris. It was seeing how much her parents loved each other and remained faithful to one another no matter what.

She didn’t know any older married couples in France. Still, she was pretty sure that a marriage like her parents’ wasn’t normal anywhere. Her father wasn’t about to let his wife go to bed without him, especially when he was afraid she was still a little mad at him.

Melissa found a smile on her lips and warmth in her heart as she thought about her parents’ love affair. Even while growing up, she’d noticed their devotion to each other. She’d never had any doubt about their faithfulness. As an adult, she realized how unusual it was, though she knew her dad would just tell her it was a Randall trait.

Melissa really wasn’t sleepy, but she strolled to the room that had been hers before she’d gone to France. The move had been a hard-fought battle, one she hadn’t thought she could win. She couldn’t have without her mom’s backing. But Melissa had done so well in French in her first two years of college that her professor had helped convince her mother to let her live in France for one semester.

And she’d never come home.

Until now.

When she’d asked her mom what she’d like for Christmas, her mother had simply said, “For you to come home for the holidays.”

Melissa couldn’t say no to her. Camille was such a sweet, gentle person. But she was also a fighter. When she realized how much Melissa had wanted to go to France, she’d fought hard for Griff’s approval. There had been several days when Camille wouldn’t even speak to her husband.

Melissa owed her mother big time.

HARRY WAS PUMPING IRON, his muscles straining under the two-hundred-pound bar. He’d just finished a half hour on the treadmill, set at a steep incline, and he was still sweating. But he needed it. The workout center had been added on to the Sheriff’s Office several years ago. When Mike Davis had become sheriff, he’d wanted his men to be in good physical shape so that using a firearm was not their first thought when subduing a lawbreaker.

Mike had asked the Randalls if they could get together with other ranchers in the area to contribute a modest sum for a couple of weight machines. The Randalls, who never did anything in a small way, had showed up at his door the next morning to begin remodeling the storeroom into a first-rate workout facility.

In gratitude, Mike had opened the facility to all the men in town as long as his staff had dibs at certain times of the day. Right now only Harry and his partner, Steve Lawson, were working out, spotting each other.

Harry had just returned the heavy bar to its stand and sat up, sweat dripping from his brow, when a sweet voice asked from the doorway, “Is Harry Gowan in here?”

Steve whirled around, almost losing his balance. “Lady, this is a men’s facility. You can’t come in here!”

With a pouty smile that Harry recognized at once, Melissa Randall said, “Well, technically, I haven’t come into the room. Oh, hi, Harry,” she said, her smile widening as she saw him turn to face her.

Harry was wearing a pair of shorts and nothing else. Now he wished he had a T-shirt or a towel nearby so he could cover up a little. “Hello, Melissa. I’m afraid I’m not dressed for company. If you’ll give me a minute, I’ll be right out.”

“Oh, I don’t mind,” she said, her smile increasing as she took in the sight of his muscled chest.

“Yeah, but I do. I’ll be right with you.”

Conceding gracefully, Melissa fluttered her fingers in a wave as she stepped back and let the door shut again.

Steve stared at his partner. “Who was that? I’ve never seen her before.”

“I hadn’t either until last night,” Harry said, grabbing a towel and drying himself off.

“You must’ve had a good night.”

“Not like you’re thinking. I just met her, that’s all.”

“Yeah, right.”

“I meant it, Steve, and I’d better not hear you spreading any gossip about her.” Harry added a glare to convince his partner.

The man backed away. “I wouldn’t, Harry, I promise, but she is really hot.”

“Yeah, she’s also a Randall.” He pulled on his sweat pants.

“A Randall? I thought I knew all the Randalls by now.”

“She’s been living in France for the past six years.” He belted his gun holster at the small of his back and pulled on a sweatshirt that covered it.

Steve was still standing there with his mouth open.

“What’s the matter? You’ve never heard of France?” Harry teased.

“I’ve never heard of a Randall being in France,” Steve replied.

“Me, neither, but I guess wonders never cease.”

MELISSA WAS SEATED AT ONE of the empty desks close to the workout facility. When she heard the door open, she spun around, eager to get another look at Harry Gowan. Unfortunately, he’d put on a sweatshirt that covered up that impressive chest.

“I hope I didn’t embarrass you,” she said, though she wasn’t being truthful by any means.

Much to her surprise, Harry said, “Yeah, I could tell that was weighing on your mind.” He sounded just like her dad when he was being sarcastic.

Narrowing her eyes, she smiled and held up a box. “I brought you something.” That should make him feel bad about being sarcastic!

“Why?”

Melissa stiffened. What was wrong with the man? He should’ve been falling all over himself, apologizing. “Because my daddy said I owed you something for trying to warn me about Dwight Barnes.”

“You didn’t seem to appreciate it last night.”

Now she was really getting irritated. “This was my father’s idea!” she exclaimed, and shoved the box toward him.