Chapter 10 Gideon
GIDEON
Gideon turned onto Main Street, the town unfolding in slow, familiar rhythm.
First came The Cakery with the giant pink name painted on the old brick building.
The smell of those cupcakes could start a small riot, and he made a mental note to stop for some to take home.
He needed to check in with Caroline anyway.
Rumor had it that Justin McKinnon was back in town.
The McKinnons and the Taylors had been feuding for decades, so he couldn’t help but be curious about what she would say about the idea of Redemption Ridge’s golden boy coming home from his time in the major leagues.
He pointed out a few places she might want to check out—mostly the stores his mom and sister always made him drop them off at while he ran to the hardware store. Hobby House, Bethany’s Book Barn, and Second Chances.
“There’s El Cresta, for Mexican. Flapjacks for, well, pancakes and eggs. That’s pretty much it for food, unless you head out of town to our ranch or to Dino’s. Oh, Luckytime is the Chinese place. Good spring rolls.”
“This place has like . . . three restaurants?”
“Five including Ridgeline Grill and Dino’s Sports Bar on the outskirts. Well, six if you count the pizza and Indian food from the gas station.”
She gave him a look that told him under no circumstances did she consider gas station pizza or chicken tikka masala a suitable restaurant selection.
He shrugged. “Surprisingly good.”
“I highly doubt that.”
“Don’t knock it till you try it, Jules. In my experience, the best ethnic food experiences in rural America will be either gas station fare or some tiny taco window in the back of the local Hispanic grocery store.”
They passed the barbershop-slash-bait shop and the fire station with the mural of a bucking bronco on the garage door.
She muttered something under her breath about frontier living and food deserts, but she didn’t look entirely horrified. Just . . . displaced. Untethered.
He knew the feeling.
When he pulled into the parking lot of Freedom Mountaineering, she reached for the door handle again, ever hopeful.
“Still broken,” he reminded her, rolling down his window to open his own door, then circling around to let her out.
She sighed. “You know most people fix basic safety features on their vehicles.”
“Sure, but then how would I make sure my beautiful dates don’t run off?”
She paused, one hand still in his. “Wait. Was that a compliment or a kidnapping threat?”
“Yep.”
Gideon held the door open to Freedom Mountaineering, and the overhead bell gave a cheerful little jingle. The store always smelled like cedar planks and a whiff of something vaguely spicy he was pretty sure came from the dried elk jerky sold by the pound near the register.
Juliana paused just inside the threshold, her gaze sweeping over the rows of down jackets, climbing gear, and a large display of Off the Grid trail snacks like she'd stumbled into an end-of-the-world prepper bunker. Her expression was somewhere between polite horror and thinly veiled judgment.
He smirked. “You okay, Emerson? You look like the granola is judging you back.”
“Is that a taxidermy goat wearing snow goggles?” she muttered.
“Technically, it’s a Big Horn Sheep. His name’s Percy. Town mascot. Don’t ask.”
She gave him a long, unimpressed look. Oh, she was asking.
Gideon tried to hold back a grin. “Legend has it, some teenagers broke into an old ski lodge and ‘borrowed’ him from the closed restaurant lobby. They dressed him up in ski goggles, stuck him on a bench downtown with a sign that said Welcome to Redemption Ridge. The town loved it, but everyone was worried the weather would be hard on the taxidermy. So, Percy lived at City Hall for a decade. When they opened this location of Freedom Mountaineering, they petitioned the city council to move him here.”
Juliana eyed him. “Some teenagers, huh? Anyone I know?”
Gideon gave an innocent shrug. He’d never had the crime pinned on him, and he wasn’t going to admit to it now. No matter how much he enjoyed the look of shock on Juliana’s face.
He laughed and headed toward the climbing gear section.
He’d nearly thrown a party the day Redemption Ridge finally got their own Freedom Mountaineering store.
He’d visited the locations in Freedom, Grand Junction, Leadville, and Breckenridge.
Each one had its own unique charm, and he knew that outdoorsy people often made a point of visiting the stores whenever they were close.
“I just need a few things to prep for the season change. Won’t take long. You keep an eye on Percy so he doesn’t sneak up on us.”
Gideon tossed a dozen pairs of insulated gloves into the basket and grabbed a new rechargeable headlamp since his old one had finally given up last week.
“Need anything?” he asked, glancing back.
“Yes. A Lysol wipe and a label maker. This place is chaos.”
He grinned. “Well, now I know what to get you for Christmas.”
He grabbed a couple of waterproof firestarter packets, mostly because he liked how Juliana’s eyes widened like she was mentally calculating flammability ratings.
She wandered toward a display of water-resistant outerwear, tentatively fingering the edge of a puffy vest like she was waiting for it to bite her. “This entire place is covered in plaid and camo.”
“Don’t forget hunter orange.”
She gave him a withering look. “I thought cowboys wore leather and cowboy hats.”
He winked and put on his western drawl. “Well now, darling. I don’t usually call myself a cowboy, but I’ll show you my Stetson when we get back to the ranch if it makes you feel better.”
A delicious shade of pink flooded her cheeks and muttered something about “backwards baseball cap” he couldn’t quite make out.
He paused in the snowmobile section and grabbed a few quarts of engine oil and some lubricant, throwing it all in the basket before he headed to the register. He nodded to the kid behind the counter. “Afternoon, Carter. You guys getting ready for snow duty?”
The college-aged clerk gave a lazy salute. “Dad’s making me help put out the fencing this weekend.”
“Tell him to call me if y’all need a hand.”
As Carter rang them up, Gideon glanced at Juliana, who was watching the exchange like it had never occurred to her that people still talked to each other without scheduling it two weeks in advance.
“You hungry?” he asked once they stepped outside.
She hesitated. “Kind of. But I haven’t had a chance to look up reviews yet.”
He blinked. “What?”
“Restaurant reviews,” she said, already pulling out her phone. “Menus. Photos. Sometimes people upload pictures of the booths if you know where to look.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I like to know what I’m walking into.”
He leaned against the hood of the truck, arms folded. “Do you also call ahead to make sure the saltshakers are evenly spaced?”
“No . . .” She chewed her lip. “I did once cancel a brunch reservation because of chipped plates.”
He let out a low whistle. “How dare they.”
She leveled him with a look. “I just don’t want to waste a perfectly good meal on somewhere that serves cold fries.”
He reached for the truck door and pulled it open for her with a grin. “I promise you won’t find any cold fries where we’re going, Jules.”
She bristled at the nickname, but only a little. “I just like to know what I’m walking into,” she repeated. “Ambiance. Average portion size. What if we end up somewhere that serves quail foam on slate rocks?”
“Then we’ll learn to love quail foam.” He jerked his head toward the gas station across the street. “Or we could go for the Saturday special from Raj. Butter chicken with a side of naan and garlic breath.”
She chewed the inside of her cheek, visibly torn. “I’m not eating at a gas station.”
“You didn’t plan to. But you still can.”
She gave him a long look. “Do you ever plan anything?”
“Sure I do,” he said. “I planned to come into town today. I planned to pick up crampons. And I planned to ask if you wanted dinner.”
“That’s barely a plan. That’s a napkin sketch.”
“Better than a 36-tab Excel sheet of every restaurant in Colorado, color-coded by sodium content.”
That earned him a reluctant laugh. He watched her soften, just enough to let the tension ebb.
“I guess . . .” She exhaled. “We can try the gas station”
He held a hand to his chest. “My stars, she’s letting go.”
“I will still be reading the menu.”
“I expected nothing less.”
They crossed the street together, his stride easy, hers a little stiff. He didn’t push her to talk—not yet—but as they reached the gas station and stepped inside, he felt it. The weight she still carried. The internal storm she hadn’t quite calmed.
And part of him wanted to fix it.
But the wiser part knew some things weren’t his to fix.
They slid into one of three booths, the vinyl seats squeaking beneath them. The scent of curry and garlic clung to the air.
Juliana unfolded the paper menu. “This font is horrendous.”
“You’re doing great, sweetie,” he said with a chuckle.
She let the menu fall slightly, the corners fluttering against the table. Her voice dropped. “Do you really think it meant something?”
He looked up, surprised by the shift in tone. “What did?”
“The ceremony. Our vows.”
He stilled, the humor fading from his face. “Maybe it did.”
She didn’t look at him. “Even though we didn’t know we were making them?”
“Especially then,” he said, leaning forward, his voice steady. “Because we still said them. We stood there, we made promises even if we didn’t think they were legal. That has to count for something.”
Juliana’s throat moved with a silent swallow. “And what does that mean to you?”
“It means I don’t walk away just because it wasn’t planned,” he said. “Not until we figure out what this is. Together.”
Her eyes flicked to his, wary. “And what if I never figure it out?”
He smiled gently, not mocking, not pushy. Just sure. “Then we stay confused. Together. And we eat questionable diner food or gas station Indian curry if that’s what it takes to remind you that you’re allowed to live outside your itinerary.”
Her lips twitched. “That sounds like the worst motivational poster ever.”
Gideon leaned back in his chair, a mischievous glint lighting up his eyes. “Want me to make it worse?”
Juliana arched a brow, cautiously intrigued. “I’m almost afraid to say yes.”
“Too late.” He cleared his throat dramatically and held up an invisible poster in front of him. “Let go and let lasagna.”
Juliana blinked. “That’s not even close to a thing.”
“Oh, but it should be. Picture it. Lasagna in the background, layers of cheese and noodles, sunbeams radiating off it like it’s been blessed by the Almighty. Cursive font. Maybe a kitten in the corner.”
She tried to suppress the laugh that burst out of her. “That’s unhinged.”
He grinned. “I’m just getting started. How about: When life closes a door, crawl through the doggie flap of opportunity.”
Juliana dropped her forehead to her hand, shoulders shaking. “Please stop.”
“Oh, no,” he said, delighted at her reactions. “We’ve entered the danger zone now. Be the glitter you want to see in the world. Or my personal favorite, If you can’t find sunshine, become a disco ball’”
She let out a full laugh at that one, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. “What Pinterest board from 2009 did you steal these from? That doesn’t even make sense.”
“I make them up on the spot. It’s a gift,” he said, tapping his temple. “Terrible wisdom. Useless metaphors. You need either of those, I’m your guy.”
Juliana shook her head, still smiling. “You are . . . something else.”
“I’ve been called worse.” He picked up his menu again, nodding toward her with a gentler smile. “But if it makes you laugh—even a little—I figure I’m doing something right.”
She didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at him. Then, softer, “You are.”
The silence stayed suspended for a moment, until Gideon cleared his throat and lifted the menu again. “Okay, hear me out—what if we just order the special and trust the universe?”
Juliana gave him a mock glare. “You mean trust a chalkboard sign with a spelling error?”
“Exactly. I’m telling you, that’s where the magic happens.”
She groaned. “This is why I don’t let go of control.”
But she didn’t stop smiling.