Page 29 of Marrying the Accidental Groom
She tried to suppress the laugh that burst out of her. “That’s unhinged.”
He grinned. “I’m just getting started. How about:When life closes a door, crawl through the doggie flap of opportunity.”
Juliana dropped her forehead to her hand, shoulders shaking. “Please stop.”
“Oh, no,” he said, delighted at her reactions. “We’ve entered the danger zone now.Be the glitter you want to see in the world.Or my personal favorite,If you can’t find sunshine, become a disco ball’”
She let out a full laugh at that one, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. “What Pinterest board from 2009 did you steal these from? That doesn’t even make sense.”
“I make them up on the spot. It’s a gift,” he said, tapping his temple. “Terrible wisdom. Useless metaphors. You need either of those, I’m your guy.”
Juliana shook her head, still smiling. “You are . . . something else.”
“I’ve been called worse.” He picked up his menu again, nodding toward her with a gentler smile. “But if it makes you laugh—even a little—I figure I’m doing something right.”
She didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at him. Then, softer, “You are.”
The silence stayed suspended for a moment, until Gideon cleared his throat and lifted the menu again. “Okay, hear me out—what if we just order the special and trust the universe?”
Juliana gave him a mock glare. “You mean trust a chalkboard sign with a spelling error?”
“Exactly. I’m telling you, that’s where the magic happens.”
She groaned. “This is why I don’t let go of control.”
But she didn’t stop smiling.
11
JULIANA
The truck rumbled down a gravel road, windows cracked to let in the crisp fall air. Golden light filtered through the trees, dappling the dashboard in warm patches and turning every leaf into something out of a tourism brochure. If autumn in Colorado had a marketing team, this would be their promotional shot. And for once, Juliana wasn’t thinking about her planner.
Not too hard, anyway.
They crested a gentle ridge and the trees thinned out, giving way to a breathtaking view that stretched for miles. The overlook wasn’t marked—no sign, no railing, no convenient gift shop. Just a wide, flat outcrop of red rock that jutted out above a valley of green pastures, speckled with boulders and copses of trees. Beyond that, a distant range of gray mountains stood like sleeping giants, their peaks just beginning to blush with the coming sunset.
It was the kind of view that made people write poems. Or buy windchimes and Adirondack chairs.
Juliana raised her eyebrows at the expanse, momentarily forgetting to be unimpressed. “Okay. I hate how pretty this is.”
Gideon just grinned, like he already knew she’d say that.
She glanced over at him, one leg tucked under her in the seat, elbow propped against the window. “How old were you when you knew you wanted to work on the ranch?” she asked, her voice a little softer now, curious.
Gideon shrugged. “Depends. You mean knew as in accepted it? Or knew as in my dad stuck a shovel in my hand when I was six and told me to earn my keep?”
She grinned. “Character-building. Excellent parenting from Barry.”
“Oh, for sure. I was mowing pastures before I hit double digits. But I didn’t really get it until I left for a while. I did the whole college, backpacking, go-find-yourself-stuff.”
“And?” she prompted.
“And I missed this. The land, the space, the slowness of it all. It made sense to me. Still does.”
She nodded, unexpectedly thoughtful. “That must be nice. Having something that makes sense.”
“You don’t?” he asked.
