Page 39 of Marrying the Accidental Groom
Juliana stiffened, every muscle locked and ready for public embarrassment. “You’re going to regret this,” she warned. “I’ve never danced without a choreographer and a numbered sequence.” She had hired someone to plan her first dance with Leo, complete with exactly four spins and a dramatic dip.
“Perfect,” he said, eyes twinkling. “Then you’ll be less predictable.”
He stepped forward and guided her back, slow and steady. She stumbled once, muttering something about rhythm and inadequate instruction, but his hand at her back kept her grounded.
“I’m stepping on your foot,” she hissed.
“Barely,” he said, grinning.
She rolled her eyes but found herself laughing.
The music swelled, and with it, something inside her loosened.
She risked a glance around the barn, expecting judgment, expecting the eyes of strangers sizing her up. But what she saw instead was a swirl of joy. Couples twirling. Laughter spilling across the room like confetti. Someone near the tree snapped a photo. No one was watching her.
Well—excepthim.
Gideon’s gaze was steady, searching, like she was something he wanted to memorize. Again with the eyes. How was she supposed to maintain an emotional moat with that kind of focus?
The next turn came easier. She leaned into him a little more, let her body move with the rhythm instead of against it. Her heels didn’t catch this time. Progress.
“See?” he murmured. “Told you I wouldn’t let you fall.”
Juliana didn’t answer right away. Her throat was too tight. Also, she was dangerously close to becoming a walking cliché and pretending to stumble for an excuse to throw herself farther into his muscular arms.
She could feel the calluses on his fingers as they brushed against hers, the worn texture of his flannel brushing her arm every time they moved. There was something deeply disarming about the way he watched her—not like she was a mistake he was stuck with, but a miracle he hadn’t seen coming.
Which was exactly why she couldn’t let herself fall too far. She’d barely survived the fall last time. And Gideon was even more of an unknown than Leo had been.
The song ended too soon, the music fading into a more upbeat number that sent a group of kids barreling onto the dance floor. Gideon leaned in close and said something about punch refills, but she only half-heard it. Her gaze wandered across the barn, taking in the glow of string lights above, the gleam of polished wood floors beneath dancing boots, and the chorus of laughter rolling like a tide across the space.
This. All of this. The laughter, the smiles, the effortless flow of joy. She had helped create it. And for the first time in a long time, she let herself feel the pride that came with watching something beautiful unfold exactly as she’d envisioned.
She wasn’t just an outsider anymore. Not tonight.
She stepped off the dance floor, weaving through mingling guests, nodding and smiling when someone complimented the dessert table or the festive garland arrangement. Her heels clicked softly against the wooden floor as she paused near the edge of the barn, watching the scene unfold before her.
“Juliana Emerson, I thought that was you!”
The voice pulled her attention toward the side door, where a man in a sharply tailored overcoat approached. He was flanked by none other than Gideon’s Uncle Chaz—the charming retired CEO of Freedom Mountaineering that she’d chatted with during setup—and a pair of older women in glitzy holiday attire.
Juliana’s eyebrows lifted. “Mr. Harrison?”
He grinned. “I thought that was you. Chaz mentioned Juliana was helping Connie put everything together, but I didn’t expect it to be THE Juliana.”
And she certainly hadn’t expected to see Nathan Harrison, the owner of Harrison Hotels, show up at a barn dance in Redemption Ridge.
She laughed, stunned. “Wow. What are you doing here? I haven’t seen you since?—”
“The final Corinthia Gala in New York,” he supplied with a grin. “It was our most successful fundraiser ever, due not in small part to you.”
“That was a nightmare. A twelve-thousand-dollar-a-plate nightmare,” she said, but her smile didn’t fade. “How are you?”
“Better now that I’ve had Cowboy Cider and three bacon-wrapped figs.” He glanced around. “Chaz and I go way back, and when he invited me for Thanksgiving, he insisted I stay through the weekend as well. This is spectacular, by the way. You’ve done an amazing job. Of course, I’m not surprised. You always were the best.”
She felt her heart lift at the compliment, silly as it was. Recognition meant something. Especially here, in a town where no one even knew what her resume looked like.
“You ever get tired of small-town charm,” Nathan added, tilting his head, “you should call me. We’re expanding into boutique properties across the West, and I’d love to have someone like you lead our Event Excellence division.”
