Page 45 of Marrying the Accidental Groom
Gideon tasted, then whistled.
“My buddy in Kansas City sent me the recipe,” Zeke said, satisfied. His eyes slid to Juliana and softened. “How are you doing?”
She smiled. “As well as can be expected, considering I almost got run over in the entryway by a three-year-old with a dump truck.”
“Chance!” Cassie called without turning. “We do not pave people’s shoes.”
Chance stopped mid-vroom, blinked at Juliana, and then grinned, launching into a breathless monologue about the dump truck’s hauling capacity. Juliana crouched and nodded like the specs were crucial to the evening’s success. Gideon’s heart pinched. Juliana was listening like Chance was presenting the quarterly report. Even after so many weeks, she kept surprising him with new facets of herself.
They sat down in waves. Connie and Barry took either end of the long table. Everyone else found a spot in between, passing platters. Jason slid into the seat beside Cassie, managing a one-armed hold on Arlo while cutting Chance’s roll with the other. Kaitlyn caught Juniper’s grabby hands before they found thebutter dish. Stetson snagged a snowman plate and made a face at it until Connie traded him for a grown-up one with a wink.
“Before we dive in,” Connie said, lifting a hand until the chatter dimmed, “Zeke, would you pray?”
Zeke bowed his head. “Father, we’re grateful. For food, for family, for new faces and old mercies. Teach us to love well, to be patient with one another, and to see Your goodness in the ordinary things like pulled pork and rolls and, uh, Juniper’s fistful of green beans. Amen.”
“Amen,” everyone echoed, and just like that, forks were flying.
Dinner turned noisy fast. It always did. Kaitlyn and Cassie compared the kids’ nap schedules—or lack thereof—with the tone of women who’d accepted their fate. Jason did the math out loud for whether they could get Arlo to sleep through the Christmas Eve service, and Stetson made a case for a later bedtime using statistics that would have impressed a judge. Chance ate barbecue sauce with a spoon.
His mom asked Juliana about the chapel decorations, which made her launch into a breakdown of candle counts and fire safety protocols that somehow made Barry’s mouth twitch in what Gideon would swear was a smile. Kaitlyn asked gentle questions about Juliana’s family without poking the bruise, and Gideon watched Juliana navigate it gracefully, skirting the edges of truth without tumbling over.
“So.” Cassie’s voice. Sweet, and in no way innocent. “So...Juliana, are we allowed to ask the question?”
Gideon felt his heart plummet, and Juliana choked on her sip of water before responding. “Which question?”
“The obvious one,” Jason supplied. “Are you two like... actuallydoing this?”
“Jason,” Cassie hissed, but also clearly delighted that her husband was as nosy as she was.
“Doing what?” Gideon asked, even though he knew exactly what. He forked a green bean and pretended it required intense concentration.
“Staying married,” Zeke said bluntly.
Juliana looked at Gideon. She didn’t look scared. Or backed into a corner. Just...honest. “We’re still figuring it out.”
Zeke nodded, satisfied, but Cassie wasn’t finished. “I mean, it would settle a lot of paperwork,” she mused, reaching for the salt. “Wouldn’t it, Dad?”
Gideon felt the conversation drifting toward the one thing he’d sworn he wouldn’t let hit the table tonight. He set down his fork.
“Paperwork?” Juliana asked, curious instead of wary, and his chest tightened. This was the moment. He could say it—tell her in front of everyone about the clause, that his being married meant he was automatically a third owner, that the future of the ranch had quietly rearranged itself around their island vows.
Dad cleared his throat. “We’ll have some transitions, if things stand,” he said evenly, eyes on Gideon. “Board seats. Signatories. Not dinner talk.”
Relief hit so fast Gideon nearly saidthank youout loud. He caught Juliana’s eye, tried to pour reassurance into his expression. This wasn’t manipulation. It was protection. He didn’t want her making any decision with a ledger hovering over it.
Juliana’s gaze flicked between father and son. She looked like she knew there was a piece of the puzzle on the floor and she couldn’t quite see it. She also looked like she was going to let him pick it up in his own time. Something unclenched in his chest.
“We’ll talk later,” he said, low enough that only she could hear.
“Okay,” she said, just as quiet. Trusting him to mean it.
Gideon tried to relax back into the noise. The food was excellent, the room warm, his woman—his wife—sitting beside him wearing one of those soft sweaters that made his fingers itch to pull her close. This should have been enough to quiet the jackhammer of anxiety in his chest.
But then his dad, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, set down his knife, wiped his hands, and aimed those steady eyes at Gideon.
“Walk fence with me tomorrow?” Barry asked. Not a request. Not an order. An invitation to a thing they’d done a hundred times that somehow always felt like a test he hadn’t studied for.
Gideon forced a smile. “Sure.”
