Page 37 of Marrying the Accidental Groom
Because it did. This wasn’t a mistake. This wasn’t an accident. It was everything he hadn’t known how to hope for.
She was still in his arms when the kiss slowed, her breath uneven, forehead resting lightly against his. And when she leaned in? When her hands slid to his chest and clutched his shirt like she was grounding herself, something in him unraveled.
He didn’t dare move or interrupt the moment with a snarky comment. He’d gladly swallow every smart-aleck joke for the rest of his life for more moments like this.
Then she whispered, “This doesn’t change anything.”
And he almost laughed, because they both knew everything had just changed.
But instead, he just whispered back, “Okay.”
Because as impulsive as she accused him of being, he was certainly willing to wait. For her. For them.
And for a second kiss. Which, if he had anything to say about it, would come very soon.
13
JULIANA
She’d been warned that the Christmas barn dance was a big deal, but Juliana had underestimated it. As the event grew closer, she became even more grateful for her tendency to go above and beyond. Jumping into organizing this party had made her realize just how much she missed the thrill of event planning. What Gideon made fun of as overly meticulous and intense, she simply called “contingency planning” and “being detail-oriented.”
Despite her intensity, the truth was, the barn dance was pretty easy to plan. The venue was extraordinary. The old barn had been updated with all the modern conveniences that made life as a party planner easier, but still held an enormous amount of rustic charm. Soaring ceilings with exposed rafters and deep wood tones drank in the warm light and created an intimate but informal setting. The Christmas trees around the room had turned out beautifully, and although she had stressed about the logistics of the food, everything looked appetizing on the table.
“Are those bacon-wrapped figs?” Gideon asked with undisguised shock.
She shrugged. “You were right. They’re addictive. And it wasn’t too hard to make the adjustments. I can be flexible, you know,” she teased. “As long as everything is exactly the way I intended. Perfectly flexible.”
The way Gideon’s grin made her heart do a pirouette was hardly fair. It wasn’t like he was stingy with his smiles, but they never seemed to lose their impact. The man was dangerously gorgeous, with an effortless surfer-dude vibe that she should not have found as compelling as she did. But perhaps she had only fooled herself into thinking that a man with a starched button-down, silver cufflinks, and a Ferragamo tie was her type. Because, let’s be honest, those Wranglers were doing more for her than Leo’s pressed Armani slacks ever had. Add in the cream-colored Stetson on Gideon’s head? She only had so much control.
And ever since their kiss in the kitchen, that control was mostly in tatters.
The party was not yet in full swing, but folks from the area were starting to arrive. The band had started their set from the small stage in the corner, and the country-inspired Christmas carols were the perfect mix of danceable and quiet background noise for the event. The barn was decked out, with garland strung from nearly every rafter and twinkling lights casting a soft glow throughout the whole space. Gideon handed her a clear plastic cup with a sparkly pink punch she’d already been informed was Connie’s Cowboy Christmas Cider. She took a sip and enjoyed the way the tart cranberry woke up her taste buds.
She’d almost lost an ally, she was pretty sure, when she had suggested serving hot cocoa and warm apple cider. Apparently, Connie’s cold cranberry punch was a Christmas barn dance tradition. And she was beginning to realize that Redemption Ridge was a place that highly valued tradition. And family. And community.
She had even helped Gideon and the rest of the Reynolds family pack Thanksgiving meal kits to be distributed around town to anyone who needed a little help making Thanksgiving dinner special. It was the first time she had volunteered for anything in a long time. Leo had subtly discouraged it, unless it was a charity gala or something equally pretentious sponsored by his law firm. So she’d stopped.
Not that her mother had ever been thrilled by her desire to serve as a big sister in the local Big Brothers Big Sisters organization. Mom had been convinced that the teenagers were likely to fleece her out of her inheritance or something equally absurd.
It felt really good to give back to this small mountain community. It was especially nice to do it next to Gideon. She’d seen him in his element, joking with everyone on the volunteer team. Then charming the families who had humbled themselves enough to accept the help the free meals provided. Everyone left with a smile after a conversation with Gideon. Sometimes, it made her a little jealous. Too often, people left conversations with her and their only souvenirs were elevated blood pressure and a to-do list.
She had fallen for Gideon’s charm the same way. But the more time they spent together, the more she felt like there was a part of himself that he was holding back. She saw glimpses of it when he let himself stop cracking jokes and said what was really going on in that head of his.
Unfamiliar faces streamed into the barn, and Juliana felt her pulse begin to rise. What would the strangers think of her? Everyone in town knew that Gideon had gotten married on a whim in an island ceremony during his mountain biking/windsurfing adventure trip. Which was—admittedly—completely on brand for him. But they knew and loved him. She, on the other hand, was the unknown. All they knew abouther was that she’d married a stranger on vacation. If they were anything like the people she knew from San Francisco, they would judge her harshly and mock her relentlessly. She’d never decided whether the ones who did it behind someone’s back or to their face were the kinder of the group.
As though he could sense her rising nerves, Gideon tugged gently on her elbow. He slipped her now-empty cup from her hand and set it on a nearby catering tray.
“Come on, sweetheart,” he said, that familiar tone wrapping around the word like a favorite blanket. “Let’s dance. You don’t have anyone to impress here tonight.”
Juliana gave him a tight-lipped smile, the kind she reserved for event clients who wanted fireworks on a no-spark budget. “That’s easy for you to say. You’re Redemption Ridge’s golden boy. I’m the interloper who might’ve married you for dual citizenship.”
He laughed, the sound low and easy. “We’re still in the same country, Jules.”
“Are we?” she muttered, sweeping her eyes over the barn like it was foreign soil. And maybe it was. Because everything about this place—from the twinkling lights strung between rafters to the warm buzz of conversation and clinking mason jars—felt rooted in a kind of belonging she hadn’t earned yet.
“Let me guess,” Gideon said, nudging her lightly toward the dance floor as he nodded toward a knot of laughing teenagers gathered near the cocoa bar. “You’ve already rewritten the event schedule in your head for next year and decided the dessert table layout is inefficient.”
She let out a reluctant huff. “The pies are bottlenecking the punch station. It’s basic flow management.”
