Page 56 of Marrying the Accidental Groom
He shifted the box, unease crawling over his skin. “Gideon’s fine, ma’am.”
Her smile widened, all polished charm. “Well, Gideon, I can see why my daughter’s so taken with this place. The lodge, the chapel, the land—it’s all so...substantial. And such a legacy to be part of. You must be very proud to be such an important part of it now.”
His grip on the cardboard tightened. She didn’t say the word inheritance, but it hung in the air between them all the same.
“I’m proud of my family,” he said evenly, careful to keep his voice neutral.
“Oh, of course. Family is everything.” She tilted her head, eyes flicking over him with too much calculation. “You’ve clearly stepped into your role here beautifully. I imagine the future of Redemption Ridge is in capable hands.”
Gideon’s stomach turned. He’d been on the receiving end of compliments before—genuine ones from folks in town, teasing ones from Zeke or his mom. But this wasn’t that. This wasflattery with teeth. The kind that tried to measure what she might gain.
“Will you be staying, Mrs. Emerson?” He was dreading the answer to the question. She had just shown up. It was probably wishful thinking to assume she’d be heading out so quickly.
His mother-in-law sniffed—like she’d stepped in something offensive. “Call me Elaine. And no. Unfortunately, it appears thislovelyranch is fully booked. I’ll be staying in Grand Junction tonight and fly out in the morning. I need to get back to Richard anyway. And Juliana was very clear that she didn’t want my company.”
He managed a polite nod. “Safe travels, ma’am.”
Something flickered in her eyes, maybe annoyance at being dismissed, but she masked it quickly with another smile. “Merry Christmas, Gideon. Whatever my daughter says, I look forward to getting to know you. You are my son-in-law, after all.”
He barely resisted the urge to shudder. “Merry Christmas.”
Gideon watched her leave, the echo of her heels fading into silence. The slimy feeling lingered, like he needed to wash his hands. He hated that Juliana had grown up with that kind of voice shaping her life—saccharine words with sharp edges underneath.
By the time he made it back to her room, the box of extension cords forgotten on a table, his heart was pounding again.
Juliana was propped against the pillows, face pale and flushed from fever, but her eyes found him the second he stepped inside. He didn’t miss the faint redness around them, the way her fingers twisted in the blanket like she was holding herself together.
“You okay?” he asked quietly, closing the door behind him.
Her nod was too quick. “Yeah. Fine.”
He didn’t believe her. Not for a second. But he also knew better than to push. For now.
He crossed to the chair by the couch and sat, leaning forward on his elbows. “Your mom made it out. Said she’s headed home.”
“Good.” The word was clipped, brittle.
He let it sit. The silence stretched, broken only by the hum of the heater and the faint rattle in her breathing.
In that silence, his heart and his head warred again. Heart begging him to reach for her hand, to tell her she was it for him. Head warning him she’d never believe it, not when she had the whole world waiting to welcome her back.
So he sat there, torn clean in two, praying under his breath for wisdom. For strength. For her.
Juliana didn’t meet his eyes. She fussed with the corner of the blanket instead, pulling at a loose thread until it frayed.
He wanted to ask what her mom had said. Wanted to demand it, if he was honest. But the stubborn set of her jaw told him she wouldn’t answer, and pressing her now would only drive her further away.
So he tried the softer route. “You should get some rest. Fever’s still high.”
She gave him a faint smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Doctor Gideon. Always so bossy.”
Normally, he would’ve teased her back. But tonight, the banter caught in his throat. Because her smile looked tired, her voice was flat, and it felt like she was a hundred miles away, even though he could’ve reached out and touched her hand.
He leaned back in the chair, folding his arms. “I’ll stick around for a bit. In case you need something.”
Her lashes flickered, but she didn’t argue. She just nodded once and turned her face toward the window, as if the dark stretch of night outside held more comfort than he did.
That cut deeper than he’d admit.
