Page 23 of Marrying the Accidental Groom
"You're really beautiful like this."
Her breath caught.
There was that same unguarded honesty he’d given her on the beach in Tealua. No charm layered over it. No teasing grin to soften the edges. Just his version of truth, handed to her like it didn’t cost him a thing.
Juliana didn’t know what to do with it. Her mom’s voice still echoed in her head from that morning—sharp and cold and cruel. Reminding her that she was too much and never enough,all at once. That she’d scared Leo off with her intensity. That she’d lost her fiancé and now, apparently, her mind.
But here was Gideon, brushing his fingers near the fraying edge of her braid, his smile quiet now.
“Like what?”
“Happy,” he said, softer this time. “Don’t hide your joy to make yourself smaller for them.”
“I’m not—” She stopped herself, the automatic protest dying on her tongue. He wasn’t accusing her. He was seeing her.
And that was more terrifying than the four-wheeler ride.
“I don’t know how,” she admitted, eyes on the dusty toes of her boots.
Gideon stepped closer, close enough that she felt the heat of him, the familiar scent of sweat and cedar clinging to his shirt.
“Well,” he murmured, “maybe I can help you remember.”
She looked up at him then, and their eyes met—real and raw and unarmored. Something shifted in her chest—a low tremble of want and warning colliding. His eyes fell to her lips and everything in her wanted a repeat of the kiss they’d shared during their wedding.
A bird called in the trees behind them, and the spell snapped. She cleared her throat and stepped back. “I should, uh, get back to the lodge.”
Gideon didn’t press. Just nodded and turned toward the trail. “C’mon, then. Hold on tight. I want to introduce you to Ethel.”
“Is that a . . . dog?”
He gave her a funny look. “You don’t name a dog Ethel. If I had a dog, he’d be named Duke or something cool like that. Come on, you’ll see.”
And even as she followed him back toward the four-wheeler, Juliana’s heart beat a little faster—not from fear this time, butfrom the dangerous thought that maybe...she didn’t want to put herself back together quite yet.
And that was the problem, wasn’t it?
This wasn’t supposed to be easy. It wasn’t supposed to feelgood.
She could still hear her mother’s voice.
Juliana had ended the conversation quickly, before the tears could win. Before she said something unforgivable. But the ache still lingered. The weight of not being enough. For Leo, for her mother, for anyone.
And now here she was, riding through open pastures with wind in her hair, laughing like someone she didn’t recognize.
She wasn’t the kind of woman who clung to reckless men on four-wheelers. She didn’t get dirt under her nails or let her hair go wild in the wind. She was drawer organizers and early check-ins. She was predictable and dependable.
But clinging to Gideon and letting go of her tight control for just a moment? It felt like a version of herself she didn’t remember.
And that made her feel a little bit dangerous. A little bit broken. A little bit too close to wanting more.
She glanced sideways at him as he stretched his arms overhead, taking in the view like it belonged to him. Maybe it did. Maybe this whole world—the sky, the dust, the untamed joy—was Gideon’s. And part of her wanted it, too.
Even though she shouldn’t. She was supposed to be here for one reason: to see if she could honor the vows she’d made. To confirm that Gideon was just a mistake and get on with her real life.
Whateverthatwas anymore. Every day away made her old life feel more like someone else’s story.
After they ditched the four-wheeler, Gideon did introduce her to Ethel. Juliana hadn’t known what to expect, but it wasn’ta truck older than both of them. She eyed the beast warily. “You named your truck?”
