Chapter 6 Gideon
GIDEON
Gideon coasted to a stop at the edge of the ridge, the wind tugging at his shirt and the familiar ache in his thighs making him grin.
“Alright, team,” he called over his shoulder, breath just short of winded, “this is our last water break before the descent. Take a minute, enjoy the view. Try not to fall off the mountain.”
Laughter rippled through the group as riders dismounted and leaned their bikes against boulders or laid them gently in the brush.
Helmets came off, water bottles emerged, and the sharp scent of pine mingled with the dusty sweat that clung to everyone.
Gideon stepped toward the overlook and let the wind hit his face.
His chest rose and fell with a deep breath of high-altitude air.
Redemption Ridge Ranch stretched out beneath them, red rock, bushy junipers, and golden slants of sunlight.
It was the kind of view that made you remember what mattered.
Behind him, one of the tourists let out a low whistle. “This place is unreal.”
Gideon smiled. “Gets better every time.”
As the last biker rolled up beside him, Gideon tugged off his helmet and ran a hand through his sweat-damp strands. The teenage girl who’d panicked over every root and rock on the way up was flushed but grinning.
“You survived,” he said, handing her a fresh water bottle from his pack. “And even looked like you were having fun by the end.”
She nodded, still catching her breath. “A little bit.”
“Well, the best part is going down,” he said with a wink.
She laughed, and he started corralling the others for the descent and giving some pointers for the biggest downhill portion of the ride.
They mounted up again, a little looser now, a little more sure of themselves.
The ride down was pure joy—all winding trails and whistling wind, the distant call of a hawk echoing off the stone outcrops.
Rocks crunched under tires, dust swirled in their wake, and the smell of warm sage rose from the sunbaked earth.
Gideon stayed at the front, guiding the rhythm, calling out hazards, grinning like a fool every time someone whooped with delight behind him.
By the time they reached the trailhead, the sun was at its peak.
The three-hour morning ride he hosted was carefully planned to have everyone back for lunch before things got too hot.
The worst of the summer heat was gone now, the days growing shorter quickly now that November had arrived.
The riders dismounted, flushed and exhilarated, high-fiving and swapping stories already.
He checked in the gear with the help of Bryce Wells.
Bryce was only fifteen, but he was almost as familiar with the trails as Gideon was and made a great second rider.
It was his job to take the rear of the group and talk with Gideon over the Bluetooth headset to let him know how everyone was doing.
Bryce handed out granola bars and cold water from the cooler he’d stashed in the back of his truck and Gideon made sure everyone was accounted for. It was the kind of day he lived for. And as he pulled off his gloves and stuffed them in his bag, a sense of contentment settled in his chest.
They stored the bikes on the rack and wiped down the helmets.
“Good ride today, Bryce. Thanks for your help.”
“Sure thing.”
“How’s your freshman year going?”
Bryce rolled his eyes. “It’s fine. If I could just get Aunt Piper off my back about extracurriculars. I just want to hang out on the ranch.”
Gideon smiled. “I’m sure Piper just wants to make sure you’re well-rounded.”
Locking the shed behind him, he climbed in his truck and grinned as it rattled to a start.
Ethel was an old, dark-green F150 with a sagging tailgate held up by a bungee cord and a rear bumper slightly bent from that time he backed into a rock when he was eighteen.
The interior always smelled faintly of pine sap, dust, and whatever fast food he forgot to throw away.
The passenger seat cushion had a small tear that Gideon covered with duct tape and a bandana, and the dashboard featured a sun-bleached bobblehead dog that had lost its spring but still nodded once solemnly with every pothole.
The glove box didn’t close properly, and the air conditioner made a noise like it was trying to breathe through a straw, but it ran.
And as far as Gideon was concerned, that made it a luxury vehicle.
Ethel was like a truck stop diner waitress in her late 50s—tired and grumbling, but she always showed up and worked hard.
He drove Ethel the long way around the main loop of Redemption Ridge Ranch, considering the rest of his plans for the day. As he approached the main house, he saw the unmistakable silhouette of his father standing near the porch railing, arms crossed.
Gideon rolled down the window to unlatch the door from the outside. The broken door handles were just a quirk of Ethel’s that he’d grown to accept at this point.
Barry Reynolds wore the same expression he always did when he was waiting: patient, expectant, and just a little too intense. He wasn’t a tall man, but he carried himself like one—shoulders squared, boots planted wide, eyes that missed nothing.
“Nice ride?” Barry asked as Gideon climbed the steps to the porch.
“The ridge was showing off today. It was great,” Gideon replied, pulling off his hydration pack.
Barry nodded, his gaze flicking past Gideon toward the last of the guests trickling toward the lodge. “Saw you up on the ridge. Seems like you ran that trail a little fast. That switchback near Foxglove Turn gets slick in the mornings.”
Gideon leaned on the railing. “They handled it fine.” As a matter of fact, he had warned the group about Foxglove Turn while they were at the top and then again on the trail as they approached it.
“You handled them fine,” Barry corrected. “But it wouldn’t kill you to post a warning up there.”
Gideon bit the inside of his cheek and nodded. “I’ll talk to Cassie about signage.”
The silence stretched. Barry shifted, like he was building up to something heavier. Gideon braced.
“You know, Gid, there’s more you could be doing around here.”
And there it was. Gideon exhaled slowly.
“I mean, you’re good with people. They like you.
They trust you. That’s a rare thing. But the tours aren’t the only thing that needs leadership.
I’m only a third owner of the company because you refuse to get married and take your place at the table.
One day, you’re going to need to step into my boots. ”
Gideon gave a half-smile. “They’re a little big.”
“You’d grow into them.” His dad’s voice was laced with sincerity and confidence.
He didn’t say what he was thinking—that he didn’t want the boots. Or the burden. Or the expectations that came with them.
Thankfully, a distraction arrived in the form of Jason, Gideon’s brother-in-law, who strolled up holding some paperwork and sporting a crooked grin.
“Hey, Barry,” Jason said, “can you come take a look at Goldenrod? She’s limping a bit, and I want to know if you think we need to call Lucy.”
Barry turned instantly, the weight of fatherly expectation shifting gears into full ranch mode. “Limping? Did you check her shoes?”
As the two of them headed off, Gideon let out a breath and shook his head.
Jason had joined the family eight years ago when he married Gideon’s sister, Cassie.
Jason loved the ranch and the animals more than Gideon ever would.
But his dad would never be satisfied that Gideon loved the land itself more than the ranching operation.
He was more than content leading tours for the guests.
Mountain biking, rock climbing, hiking. He’d even been considering offering some paragliding or hang-gliding experiences.
The cliff above the east side of the south pasture would be perfect for it, with a huge open landing zone for inexperienced flyers.
He considered the logistics as he headed to the lodge. His brother Zeke was working in the kitchen today at Ridgeline Grill, and he wanted to run the idea past him.
Gideon only made it halfway to the side path before he saw her.
Standing at the edge of the main lot, suitcase in hand, blouse too crisp for the dusty gravel around her. She looked like she’d wandered off the pages of a resort catalog. Or maybe straight out of a dream.
Like the dozens he’d had about her since the island.
His heart did a strange little hiccup. Maybe he’d hit his head a little harder on that branch on the trail than he’d thought. There was no way he was seeing what he thought he was.
“Juliana?”
She turned at the sound of his voice. Her expression was unreadable—calm on the surface, but something fierce churned beneath.
“Hello, Gideon.”
He blinked, then a lazy smile spread across his face as his long strides ate up the distance between them. “Fancy seeing you here,” he teased.
Her gaze flicked over him, from his dusty riding shoes to the sweat-streaked shirt. “You look like you fell off a mountain.”
He grinned, because of course she was mad. “I didn’t fall. I jumped.” Note to self: take Juliana paragliding.
Juliana paused, as though determining how truthful he was being. Then she rolled her eyes. “I came to talk.”
“Oooh, sounds serious.”
She set her suitcase down with a thud. “Can you stop making jokes for like, fifteen minutes?”
Gideon’s grin widened and he held up his hands in surrender. “Sorry, sorry. You caught me off guard. What do you say we go grab some lunch?” He eyed her suitcase. “Maybe get you checked in? Looks like an overnight stay is on the itinerary.”
She huffed. “Gideon.”
He tried not to laugh but failed. He enjoyed the way she said his name when she was exasperated.
“All right,” he said, sobering just a little. He led her inside and had her bags sent upstairs. Then they grabbed a table at the restaurant.
“I’m listening. No jokes.”
Juliana crossed her arms, clearly not buying it. “I got something in the mail.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You tracked me across the Pacific because of a letter?”
She hesitated, and something flickered in her expression—uncertainty, maybe. Guilt? “Not just a letter. Official documents.”
“Like jury duty?” he asked, tilting his head. “Because I gotta be honest, you don’t seem like the type to run from civic responsibility.”
“No.” Her voice was flat. “Like a marriage certificate.”
Gideon blinked. The restaurant stirred around them, but suddenly it felt like everything had gone quiet. He was pretty sure he’d stopped breathing.
“What?”
Her jaw tightened. “From Tealua. With both our names. And a very official-looking seal.”
Gideon let out a short laugh, but it died quickly. She didn’t laugh with him. Didn’t even smile.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “You said that was all ceremonial. Symbolic. The guy literally winked at us.”
Juliana didn’t answer. She just stared, steady and serious, like this wasn’t absurd.
“I mean . . . we didn’t sign anything,” he said, then paused, thinking. “Did we?”
“Apparently, we did.”
“I handed the folder to the customs guy,” she said, voice stiff. “I didn’t know that envelope was in there. I didn’t read it. I thought it was just some touristy keepsake.”
“And now what?” Gideon asked, spreading his hands. “You think we’re actually legally married?”
She pulled a thick envelope from her tote and handed it over.
Gideon took it slowly, like it might bite him, and flipped through the first few pages. The elegant script. The wax seal. The stamped approval from some kind of island council.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered.
“Believe me, I’m not.”
He flipped to the FAQ section, then let out a low whistle. “I told you we made a cute couple.”
She crossed her arms again. “This isn’t funny. I didn’t come here so you could make it into a joke.”
“I’m starting to see that,” he admitted, still smiling. “But it is a little funny.”
Gideon looked up. Her face was pinched tight around the edges, her jaw clenched like it was the only thing keeping her from falling apart. And suddenly, he didn’t feel like laughing anymore.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “This . . . is just a lot.”
Juliana’s arms dropped slightly. Not relaxed, but maybe less rigid. “You think?”
She looked like she might hurl her entire purse across the table at him.
He held up a hand. “I’ll fix it. I’ll help however I can. We’ll call the Tealuan consulate. Lawyer. Whatever it takes.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Just like that?”
He frowned. “Yeah. Isn’t that what you want? An annulment or whatever it’s called?”
“I don’t know what I want,” she snapped. Then, quieter, “I just know what I believe about marriage. Even accidents like this.”
Gideon shifted his weight, unsure where to step next. “What does that mean?”
“I came here because I believe marriage is sacred,” she said. “Even accidental ones. I believe it’s a covenant, not a contract, and I’ve spent the last week praying over how to handle this responsibly. Meanwhile, you’re here cracking jokes and ready to sign it all away without a second thought.”
He stiffened. “Juliana, I didn’t plan for any of this. You of all people should understand that.”
“Neither did I!” Her voice rose, then steadied. “But I’m not trying to pretend it never happened. I’m trying to deal with it. Like an adult.”
Gideon folded his arms. “So what do you even want? To stay married?”
“I don’t know yet. But I want you to accept the seriousness of the situation,” she said. “Accept some ownership. Something you clearly struggle with.”
The words hit harder than he expected. Because they weren’t just hers. They echoed his father’s words just a little too closely.
“I’m not here for a quick signature and a legal eraser. I want to talk. Figure it out.” She looked at him fully now, eyes searching. “On the island, you said you don’t run from things. So don’t run from this.”
That one landed, too. He looked down, flexed his jaw, then exhaled slowly. “Okay,” he said. “We’ll talk. I’ll shower, you’ll breathe, and we’ll sit down like grown-ups.”
She nodded, still skeptical.
“Welcome to Redemption Ridge,” he murmured. “Home of accidental husbands and very uncomfortable conversations.”
Across from him, he swore he heard her mutter, “Lord, help me.”
He grinned, keeping his head down so she couldn’t see. Oh yeah, he loved it when she was riled up.