Chapter 13 Juliana #2
Juliana let herself be led, heart thudding in a staccato rhythm that had nothing to do with the music. Gideon’s hand was warm in hers, his grip easy and sure, like he had no doubt she’d follow. And maybe that was why she did.
The barn’s floorboards creaked beneath her heels as they stepped onto the dance floor. Couples swirled around them, some in cowboy hats, others in snowflake sweaters or cocktail dresses.
Gideon turned to face her, one hand settling at her waist, the other holding her hand in a loose but certain grasp. He moved easily, feet already shifting in time with the beat.
Juliana stiffened, every muscle locked and ready for public embarrassment. “You’re going to regret this,” she warned. “I’ve never danced without a choreographer and a numbered sequence.” She had hired someone to plan her first dance with Leo, complete with exactly four spins and a dramatic dip.
“Perfect,” he said, eyes twinkling. “Then you’ll be less predictable.”
He stepped forward and guided her back, slow and steady. She stumbled once, muttering something about rhythm and inadequate instruction, but his hand at her back kept her grounded.
“I’m stepping on your foot,” she hissed.
“Barely,” he said, grinning.
She rolled her eyes but found herself laughing.
The music swelled, and with it, something inside her loosened.
She risked a glance around the barn, expecting judgment, expecting the eyes of strangers sizing her up. But what she saw instead was a swirl of joy. Couples twirling. Laughter spilling across the room like confetti. Someone near the tree snapped a photo. No one was watching her.
Well—except him.
Gideon’s gaze was steady, searching, like she was something he wanted to memorize. Again with the eyes. How was she supposed to maintain an emotional moat with that kind of focus?
The next turn came easier. She leaned into him a little more, let her body move with the rhythm instead of against it. Her heels didn’t catch this time. Progress.
“See?” he murmured. “Told you I wouldn’t let you fall.”
Juliana didn’t answer right away. Her throat was too tight. Also, she was dangerously close to becoming a walking cliché and pretending to stumble for an excuse to throw herself farther into his muscular arms.
She could feel the calluses on his fingers as they brushed against hers, the worn texture of his flannel brushing her arm every time they moved. There was something deeply disarming about the way he watched her—not like she was a mistake he was stuck with, but a miracle he hadn’t seen coming.
Which was exactly why she couldn’t let herself fall too far. She’d barely survived the fall last time. And Gideon was even more of an unknown than Leo had been.
The song ended too soon, the music fading into a more upbeat number that sent a group of kids barreling onto the dance floor.
Gideon leaned in close and said something about punch refills, but she only half-heard it.
Her gaze wandered across the barn, taking in the glow of string lights above, the gleam of polished wood floors beneath dancing boots, and the chorus of laughter rolling like a tide across the space.
This. All of this. The laughter, the smiles, the effortless flow of joy. She had helped create it. And for the first time in a long time, she let herself feel the pride that came with watching something beautiful unfold exactly as she’d envisioned.
She wasn’t just an outsider anymore. Not tonight.
She stepped off the dance floor, weaving through mingling guests, nodding and smiling when someone complimented the dessert table or the festive garland arrangement. Her heels clicked softly against the wooden floor as she paused near the edge of the barn, watching the scene unfold before her.
“Juliana Emerson, I thought that was you!”
The voice pulled her attention toward the side door, where a man in a sharply tailored overcoat approached.
He was flanked by none other than Gideon’s Uncle Chaz—the charming retired CEO of Freedom Mountaineering that she’d chatted with during setup—and a pair of older women in glitzy holiday attire.
Juliana’s eyebrows lifted. “Mr. Harrison?”
He grinned. “I thought that was you. Chaz mentioned Juliana was helping Connie put everything together, but I didn’t expect it to be THE Juliana.”
And she certainly hadn’t expected to see Nathan Harrison, the owner of Harrison Hotels, show up at a barn dance in Redemption Ridge.
She laughed, stunned. “Wow. What are you doing here? I haven’t seen you since—”
“The final Corinthia Gala in New York,” he supplied with a grin. “It was our most successful fundraiser ever, due not in small part to you.”
“That was a nightmare. A twelve-thousand-dollar-a-plate nightmare,” she said, but her smile didn’t fade. “How are you?”
“Better now that I’ve had Cowboy Cider and three bacon-wrapped figs.
” He glanced around. “Chaz and I go way back, and when he invited me for Thanksgiving, he insisted I stay through the weekend as well. This is spectacular, by the way. You’ve done an amazing job.
Of course, I’m not surprised. You always were the best.”
She felt her heart lift at the compliment, silly as it was. Recognition meant something. Especially here, in a town where no one even knew what her resume looked like.
“You ever get tired of small-town charm,” Nathan added, tilting his head, “you should call me. We’re expanding into boutique properties across the West, and I’d love to have someone like you lead our Event Excellence division.”
Juliana blinked. “Wait, are you serious?”
He handed her a card with a wink. “Very. We’ve got a Scottsdale location opening in February. I’ll shoot you an email.”
A familiar voice cut in from behind her. “There you are. I was starting to think you’d ditched me for someone with a better hat.”
Juliana turned to see Gideon approaching with two plastic cups of pink cider and an easy smile on his face. He stopped a half-step closer than necessary, not quite possessive, but definitely inching that way.
“Uncle Chaz,” he said. “How was your Thanksgiving?”
Chaz grinned. “It was great, thanks for asking. Margie and I hosted Casey and the family. And I invited my old friends Nathan and Lisa Harrison as well. Nathan, this is my nephew, Gideon. He’s also recently married to the lovely Juliana, whom you apparently already know.”
Surprise etched across Nathan’s features, and Juliana immediately felt insecure about the story of her nuptials.
“That’s me,” Gideon said, handing her the drink. “Gideon Reynolds. Nice to meet you.”
“Nathan Harrison,” he said, shaking Gideon’s hand with a politician’s polish. “I was just telling Juliana how impressive this event is. She’s got real talent.”
“She does,” Gideon agreed, his voice light. But Juliana didn’t miss the way his thumb skimmed the side of her hand as he passed her the drink. A quiet anchor. A subtle check-in.
Nathan nodded. “I’ll let you two enjoy the evening. Juliana, seriously, think about it. We’d be lucky to have you.” With another quick smile, he disappeared into the crowd, leaving behind the scent of expensive cologne.
Juliana stared down at the card still tucked between her fingers. Scottsdale. February. Boutique properties.
“You know him?” Gideon asked, casual on the surface, but there was something quieter in his tone. Less sure.
“We worked together on a contract a few years ago,” she said. “He’s on the board of the Corinthia Foundation. His hotels—Harrison Hotels—hosted seven charity galas across the country for the organization. I spearheaded the project for my firm.”
He nodded slowly, eyes scanning the room as if he needed something to tether himself to. “Offering you a job?”
She hesitated. “A very tempting one.”
For a second, neither of them said anything. Around them, the barn buzzed with movement and music, but Juliana felt the stillness wrap around them like fog.
Gideon took a sip of his cider. “Well. Hard to compete with Scottsdale in February.”
She glanced up at him, surprised by the softness in his voice. “It doesn’t mean I’m leaving.”
He shrugged with one shoulder, not looking at her. “Didn’t say it did.”
But something in his posture—hands tucked in his pockets, jaw tight despite the smile—said he was already bracing for the moment she did.
She looked back down at the card, guilt and possibility warring inside her.
A job. A chance to put the fiasco with Leo behind her and start reclaiming her professional life.
She should’ve been thrilled. But her stomach churned instead. Because she’d finally found a place where she felt seen. Maybe not by the whole town, but by him. And if she took the job . . .
She’d have to leave.
She was used to planning events. What she wasn’t used to was not knowing what came next.
For the rest of the night, she tried not to wonder whether she’d just been offered her future . . . or handed a reason to walk away from it.