Page 10 of Marrying the Accidental Groom
The ceremony ended with a blessing spoken in the island tongue. “Now, you kiss her,” the officiant said with a gap-toothed smile.
Gideon’s eyebrows lifted. He hesitated just long enough to meet Juliana’s eyes, silently asking permission. She gave a tiny nod—barely there—but it was enough. He leaned in and pressed a soft, unhurried kiss to the corner of her mouth, his lips lingering just a second longer than necessary as he felt the softswell of her cheek against his and inhaled the sweet, jasmine scent of her skin.
He barely paid attention as they signed a thick sheet of parchment, his mind still on the kiss. Someone handed Juliana a slim folder before they were ushered out of the grove.
They walked back slowly, the sun dipping toward the horizon and their footprints trailing behind them in the sand. Juliana didn’t speak, and Gideon didn’t push. He figured she needed a moment—maybe a dozen of them.
When they reached the bungalow, she disappeared into the bathroom, and he took the opportunity to sit on the porch, watching the surf roll in. He should have left hours ago. If he’d been up early, he might have caught the first and only boats out this morning. But he hadn’t been ready to leave. He still wasn’t. Now as much as he wanted to stay, he shouldn’t. He had a reservation on Tealua Nui. A job waiting. Life to return to. And Juliana had a life to reclaim.
She came out to the porch. “We were scheduled for room service and a night in, so I think I’m going to order dinner.”
He shook his head, grinning. “No way. It’s my last night on this island. You’re coming with me to this beach bar one of the bellboys was telling me about. No schedules. Just music, fire dancers, and fruity drinks with umbrellas.”
Her mouth tightened, and he caught the flash of resistance in her eyes. She was so used to control, it made her wary of anything spontaneous. But then, a flicker crossed her face.
“Okay,” she said, almost reluctant but willing.
She stepped back inside and changed into some sort of wrap dress that hugged her curves and danced around her knees. For a moment, Gideon wondered what it would really be like to call this woman his. “You look...stunning.”
The shy smile that appeared on her lips had him dreaming of kissing them again.
They walked hand in hand next to the waves, the air thick with salt and the promise of something wild. When they reached the bar, it was lively—locals and tourists swaying to the beat, laughter bubbling up around them. Firelight flickered across faces, and the smoky scent of grilled seafood teased their senses.
Juliana began to unwind in a way he hadn’t seen all day. The music pulsed through the warm night air, a rhythmic blend of drums and ukulele that vibrated under their feet. He watched as Juliana’s eyes followed the fire dancers twisting and leaping in the flickering torchlight, her usual guarded expression softening.
A light and unrestrained laugh escaped her lips, catching him off guard. It wasn’t loud or forced, just a small sound of genuine amusement, as if she’d forgotten the weight she’d been carrying.
She caught him looking and gave him a quick smile, still a little shy but real.
They ordered island drinks—sweet guava and passionfruit juices poured over crushed ice, each with a tiny paper umbrella. Gideon made a point of picking the most ridiculous one for Juliana, teasing her about having “the fanciest drink in the house.”
She rolled her eyes and muttered something about “too much sugar” but didn’t push it away, the warmth of the night seeming to melt some of her tension.
They tried to mimic the fire dancers’ moves, laughing when they failed spectacularly. Gideon’s easy confidence rubbed off on her, loosening her stiff posture. She even challenged him to a game of limbo under a swinging bamboo pole, losing but laughing all the same.
For a brief moment, Gideon caught a glimpse of the woman she might be when she wasn’t burdened by plans and disappointments—a woman who could truly enjoy the moment.
But just as the band shifted gears and launched into a lively new song, the mood changed.
The sky had darkened rapidly, clouds rolling in like a creeping shadow, swallowing the stars without their notice. The first low rumble of thunder rolled across the island, deep and warning.
“Rain’s coming,” Gideon said, rising and reaching for her hand.
They dashed from the open bar area toward a small grove of palm trees nearby, hoping to find shelter.
But the storm was faster than they were. Sheets of rain pelted them in seconds, soaking Juliana’s dress until it clung to her skin.
She stopped abruptly, her face hardening, eyes fixed on the sodden fabric.
“My clothes,” she whispered, voice sharp with frustration. “Why didn’t you even check the weather? Of course I would get stuck in a monsoon with you!”
Gideon’s calm flickered, a spike of irritation rising beneath the surface. Here they were, caught in the middle of a magical island night, and already she was unraveling over a wet dress. He wanted to tell her it was just water, just a moment—nothing to lose her grip over. But he held back, knowing this wasn’t really about clothes.
It was about control.
And he wasn’t sure how to tell her to let go without breaking something fragile inside.
“It’s just water,” he said, trying to keep his tone gentle.
