The Gideon Affair

“It’s not too late, you know.”

She had to grin. This was fun. She’d never been kidnapped before. When Marshall had appeared in his mom’s studio with an old Lone Ranger mask on and a fake pistol that swung from a kid’s holster, she’d played her apart to the hilt. Yelling, “Save me, save me,” as Marsh tossed her over his shoulder while his mother pretended to rescue her.

She caught sight of Edward and Steven up at the house, watching from the porch and laughing their asses off as she was dumped in the passenger seat of the old truck with a thud.

“Yeah, it is. Too late.”

“Why? Did that motherfucker knock you up? Is that what all the rush is about?”

He sounded genuinely put out.

“Where have you been, Marsh?” she quipped. “The second we got together practically everyone we knew screamed at last!”

He swerved to avoid a large rock protruding from the ground.

“Idiot, that one. Too busy looking at his own reflection.”

She knew he was just kidding.

“I’m glad you’re here. It means a lot to Edward.”

Humph. “Is he all you think about?”

“No. I also think about Häagen-Daz vanilla, my 401K, and occasionally Charlie Hu

They pulled over at a spot far down the river from the house and got out of the truck. Finding spots to sit on a large sun-warmed rock, they talked about how beautiful it was here and how happy his parents were. Once they were talking, she questioned him about his so-called portfolio. What she discovered was quite surprising.

“You’re full of shock and awe these days, little brother.”

“Oh, fuck!” Marsh chuckled. “That’s right. I get a sister out of this deal. How cool is that?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever. Don’t change the subject. So were you ever pla

Pfft. “No mogul, sis. Just a guy with a head full of dreams who couldn’t hack a nine-to-five office job. I lucked out right from the begi

Humph. She thought about everything she now knew. Working off a property-flipping whim, he’d stumbled on something he was really good at. Like his brother. They both fell face-first into an unlikely career path.

“What do you think of my B&B plan? Think it has merit?”

“Jeez, Paige, I think anything you do would have merit. Edward didn’t fall for you because you had big tits.”

She slapped on the arm. Hard. “Hey! Be nice.”

“I am being nice.” He chuckled. “It’s a compliment, lady. T and A was never what big bro was about. He needs all that fucking cerebral shit so a fiancée with a fancy degree and some shit-kicking skills? Priceless.”

“He’s not saying so yet, but I think he’s pretty much over the whole acting thing. It wasn’t meant to be a life choice, you know.”

“Yeah, I hear you. That shit’s fucked up, and I’m being serious when I say I don’t know how you do it.”

She swatted a fly away and turned on the rock to face Marsh.

“It’s all fantastic when a shoot is happening. The creative stuff is the best part, but the rest of it? Meh.”

“Maybe it’s your turn to shine. Ever think of it that way?”

Of course, she had, but the way Marsh put it was way too simple.

“Eh, it’s not about being a star, or any of that. For me, it’s about using my skills. Truly. It’s not even about money.” Paige laughed and nudged Marsh. “Your dad handles my, uh, investment portfolio.” They both roared with laughter. Portfolio was the new word du jour. “Anyway, I’m good. And marrying Mr. Moneybags won’t hurt.”

“Jesus, Paige. I saw the box office numbers for Dark Cloud and almost shit. They printing money yet with his ugly mug on it yet? I mean, what the fuck. He’s in the shitting-rainbows category now. Ya done good, girl. Real good.”

“So I’m told, but it's just money.”

“I hear that. Hey, mind if I ask what happened that sent you guys on a camping trip when you should be checking junk off your bridal registry and making all those fake assholes throw you engagement parties?”

Eek. She was so over it. “I could explain, but then I’d have to obliviate your memory and I don’t think Miriam would like that.”

“Mom and Dad were pretty torked about something when I called in a couple of weeks ago.”

“Ugh. Paparazzi bullshit. It’s handled, though.”

“This have anything to do with Shaw Me the Way?”

She cringed. Well, at least now that Phae was taking responsibility, that damn tape would vanish fast, so there was that. The little detail of her age meant it was officially in the underage no-no category. Marsh correctly read her reaction when he fervently exclaimed, “It isn’t him, you know.”

“Well, I know that now!” she crowed.

“Ah, so it’s like that, is it?” Marsh nodded with approval. For a brief moment, his eyes darted around before he boomed gleefully, “Oh, man! You held him off for six fucking years?”

He dissolved into a fit of laughter so joyful and infectious that she joined him. As their laughter rang out over the empty spaces, Marsh pulled her into a big hug then took her by surprise with a vicious noogie.

“Hallelujah! I’m not the youngest anymore. Welcome to the family, little sister.”

“Where is everybody?” Rose asked Edward when she came upon him all by himself in the kitchen. “It’s so quiet.”

"Everyone scattered first thing." He held the coffee pot in his hand up for her to see. “Coffee?”

“Immediately. Hot. Black”

“Coming right up. You grab a chair at the table, Mrs. Turner, and I’ll get you set.”

He was glad that she didn’t try to stand there and do small talk with him, realizing after she was halfway across the kitchen that he’d been holding his breath. Why the woman scared him shitless wasn’t much of a mystery. From the second the Turners had arrived, she’d been one hundred and ten percent redneck charming with everyone. Except him. Shit. She’d practically adopted Marsh and had his dad eating out of her palm, too.

Dammit. Where was Paige?

Loading a big tray with a coffee carafe, their mugs, and a plate of fresh baked blueberry scones, he silently crossed himself and prayed for some sort of divine intervention to help him get his future mother-in-law on his side. Or at the very least, comfortably adjacent.

“We’re in luck,” he told her with hopeful friendliness. “Mom’s in a baking frenzy. Dad says he’s put on eight pounds, not that he’s complaining about all the treats. Looks like blueberries are a theme lately. Hope you like a good scone.”

For someone who delivered carefully crafted lines for a living, you’d think he could have made that sound more eloquent than a rushed eighth-grade class report. The way she eyeballed him was a lot like a teacher who was grading and judging every word, breath, and action.

“Your mother’s a doll. We have some things in common. Although you couldn’t tell that by looking at this place.”

Edward carefully considered her every word. He watched her glance around the country kitchen with its cabin in the wilderness charm and saw it through her eyes. He knew the Turners lived in a one-story ranch home in Oklahoma that while comfortable would not be considered grand or up-to-date by today's crazy HGTV standards. Not all too terribly different from the home Marsh and he grew up in.

He wondered if the spectacular custom design he’d snagged for his parents was pretentious or came off as him having a serious bank account made them better than everyone else.

Holy shit. Nothing could be further than the truth. His parents were on their best behavior right now, but his oddball family unit would have shown a completely different picture a night earlier when his mom and Marshall belched out song lyrics.