Page 34 of Marrying the Accidental Groom
Garlands draped the rafters, fresh pine laced with strands of cream ribbon and dried orange slices. Twinkle lights zigzagged above, giving the entire space a soft, golden glow. It looked like the inside of a snow globe—and not the cheesy kind you buy in the airport, either. The real deal, Norman Rockwell, “we sing carols and churn butter” sort of magic.
And Juliana still wasn’t happy.
“It’s uneven,” she muttered, backing up to squint at the garland he had just stapled to the wall above the buffet table.
Gideon blinked up at it. “Looks even to me.”
She exhaled, slow and strained. “It dips too far on the right. If you’d just measured before you started?—”
“If I’d measured each swoop, we’d still be on the first strand.” He grinned, trying for charming. “You gotta trust the eyeball method.”
Juliana gave him a look that suggested the eyeball method was how the Roman Empire fell.
“Fine,” he muttered, pulling the staple out and tugging the garland against the wall.
She stood there in her sweater and jeans, clipboard clutched like a weapon, hair twisted back into something that had no right to be that pretty while she barked orders. It should’ve driven him nuts. Maybe it did. But the longer she was around, the more the tight grip of her control started to feel...important. Like the barn wouldn’t come to life the right way without her.
Still, she was driving him insane.
Everything about her was meticulous, from her to-do list broken down by quarter-hour to the way she’d already polished the serving platters for the dance—even though the event was still a week away. She probably dreamt in bullet points. He, on the other hand, was duct tape patches and one-day-at-a-time in comparison.
And right now, he wasn’t sure how long she could tolerate him.
“I said cream and wood tones,” she called from the other side of the barn, where she was now eyeing the small tree he’d set near the entry.
“What do you think that is?”
“That’s gold and forest-green ribbon. It clashes.”
“It doesn’t clash. It coordinates. Forest green could be a wood tone.”
Juliana didn’t even crack a smile.
Every joke he tossed her way fell flat today. She wasn’t mean, exactly. Just...focused. Sharp-edged. Like his easygoing nature was wearing on her last nerve. Which wouldn’t have stung so much if he wasn’t trying—actually trying—not just to help with the barn but to prove he could meet her where she was.
But maybe she didn’t want that. Maybe she didn’t want him.
His stomach turned as he stapled another section of garland instead of engaging in the debate about the color of ribbon onthe tree. There was that doubt. It crept in like cold air under the barn door, small and unwelcome but hard to ignore. He knew he wasn’t polished. Knew his family and this place came with quirks she hadn’t signed up for. But she made him wish he could fit into her vision.
He snuck a glance across the barn as she stood on tiptoe to adjust a lantern hanging from a beam before heading toward the food table. A week ago, she was climbing out the back window of his truck, cursing his taste in food and threatening arson. He still felt guilty about that. Sort of. Mostly.
Okay, it made a great story. The whole family had been in stitches as they recounted the mishap that ended with Cassie having to retrieve them from Gray Pine Point.
But clearly, Jules hadn’t forgiven him for roping her into the experience.
He moved toward the prep table at the side of the barn where Juliana was now unboxing serving platters for the barn dance. She placed them face down on the table next to neatly labeled placards. His mouth watered as he read the menu.Pulled Pork Sliders. Maple-Glazed Sausage Bites. Cheddar Ranch Pinwheels. Sweet Potato Rounds with Goat Cheese.
“The menu looks great, Jules. Oooh, you know what would be good? Bacon-wrapped figs. Those things are addictive.”
Juliana froze, her hand hovering above a box of dishes. “That’s not on the menu. And don’t call me Jules.”
“So change the menu,” he said, shrugging. And ignoring her other instruction. He knew she liked it when he called her Jules.
Her lips pressed together. “That’s not how it works. I’ve already planned the table layout based on what dishes need toothpicks and which need forks. Tongs versus serving spoons. You can’t just—” She let out a breath and shook her head. “Never mind. It’s fine. Let’s do the figs. I’ll just redo the entire serving order. Again.”
Gideon blinked, trying to feel out her emotions behind the rant. “I mean, if it’s that big a deal...”
She didn’t look at him, just exhaled another huff of air. “It’s not a big deal. It’s adetail. In my world, that’s the difference between adequate and amazing.” Then quieter, “I just want it to be amazing.”
