Page 7 of Marrying the Accidental Groom
The receptionist gave a big smile. “That’s very kind.”
Gideon looked back at Juliana, gratitude and surprise shining in his eyes. “Thank you.”
Juliana forced a small smile, feeling the strange mix of relief and awkwardness settle over her. Somehow, this impromptu arrangement felt both risky and oddly comforting.
Gideon fell into step beside her as a bellhop motioned them toward the golf cart waiting to take her to her bungalow.
“You don’t have to say it,” she muttered under her breath.
“Say what?” he asked, all innocence.
“That I look completely ridiculous checking into a honeymoon suite with a plus-one I picked up at the airport snack bar.”
He let out a low whistle, then shrugged. “Well, this isn’t the first time I’ve been called a snack.”
The laughter escaped before she could bite it back. It felt strange, the sound and feeling unfamiliar. When was the last time she’d laughed like this? She’d been stressed about the wedding for months, but had she really been so miserable?
By the time they reached the bungalow, the sun was dipping toward the water, casting long shadows over the path. The space was every bit the luxury she’d booked—private plunge pool, flower-strewn bed, folded towels in the shape of swans.
Juliana cringed.
Gideon chuckled. “Subtle.”
She gestured toward the bedroom. “You can have the couch in the living room. It pulls out.”
He nodded, genuinely unfazed. “Perfect. I don’t require swans.”
She shut herself in the bathroom longer than necessary, trying to regain her balance. But when she finally stepped outside again, she found Gideon barefoot on the patio, two bottles of sparkling water in hand, a lopsided grin on his face.
“After some prompting, the bellhop told me there’s a night market near the beach,” he said. “Live music. Grilled things on sticks. Want to go?”
She hesitated. Her itinerary said she had dinner at the resort’s fine dining terrace at precisely 7:00.
“I already have plans,” she said, but even to her own ears, it sounded weak.
Gideon waggled his eyebrows. “Come on. Fried coconut shrimp and a man in a grass skirt playing the ukulele. That’s got to be on someone’s bucket list.”
“I don’t have a bucket list,” she replied tightly. She had a schedule—very different.
“Then it’s time you started one.” He offered her a bottle. “You’ve already checked offhitch a ride in a pineapple truck. You’re halfway there.”
Against her better judgment—and maybe because the look in his eyes made it impossible to say no—she found herself nodding.
The night was warm and alive, full of torches and drums, and smells that made her mouth water. Gideon convinced her to try something sweet and spicy wrapped in banana leaves, then a dessert she couldn’t pronounce, and somewhere between the second food stall and the dancing circle, she realized she wasn’t thinking about Leo at all.
She let herself laugh. Once. Then twice. And she was still smiling when she fell asleep.
So obviously, the next morning, she tried to return to normal.
Juliana stood on the porch with her planner and folder, determined to realign herself with order. She had breakfast scheduled at the resort café, followed by a tour of the orchid conservatory and then a thirty-minute swim. Structured. Predictable. No surprises. No pineapple trucks.
Gideon walked out of the bungalow in swim trunks and a backward baseball hat, sipping from a coconut. How had he already found a fancy drink? Did they deliver them to each bungalow at sunrise?
“What are you doing today?” She couldn’t fight her curiosity when it came to him.
“See if I can get a boat to the other island. If not...snorkeling,” he said, absently. “Possibly windsurfing. Not sure yet. I definitely want to do the animal encounter at the marina. Want to join me?”
“I have plans,” she said firmly, trying to sound like the responsible adult she was pretending to be.
