The Gideon Affair

“I think it’s every kid’s hope that someday they’d hit it big and be able to take care of their parents.”

“Oh, I’m not criticizing Gideon. It’s just a lot to take in.”

Okay. Now, what the hell did he do? She knew damn well that nobody called him Gideon. What the fucking fuck?

There was nothing but to be direct. “Mrs. Turner, I act for a living so believe me when I say that this air of disdain you’re passing my way is far and away a masterful performance. Care to let me in on whatever I’ve done to earn it?”

She calmly sipped her coffee and assessed his every breath over the rim of the big mug. Her expression gave nothing away. Not even the snarky challenge he just threw in her face got a reaction. He was starting to get where Paige got her balls. Nothing ever rattled her, and now he knew that she learned that shit from an expert.

He, however, had learned the art of patience on a battlefield. Hurry up and wait should be the Army’s motto. Mirroring Rose’s calm indifference, he sat across from her and drank his coffee. Waiting. When she finally said something, it was a doozy.

“You didn’t protect my baby.”

Whomp, whomp. She just chewed a huge hole in his ass.

“The press dragged her good name through the mud because of you.”

That wasn’t entirely true, but he understood why Rose saw things that way. He’d been the center of a scandal. With guilt by association being a theme in the media, Paige had been tagged. But so had a lot of other people.

“The minute she went on the radar, everyone in our corner took immediate steps to shut that bullshit down.”

“Is that why you got her to accept an engagement? Is this all about saving your career? Is my daughter’s name going to end up as a footnote in some tacky Gideon affair?”

Shock and horror propelled him from his seat. “Oh, my god. No. Is that what you think? Mrs. Turner … I adore Paige.”

“She’s your assistant. What you’ve done is sexual harassment.”

She was fucking kidding, right? He couldn’t let anybody think stuff like that about Paige. He didn’t care who it was. Not even her mother.

“Whoa, lady. Slow down a minute. You have this all wrong. For the record? Paige isn’t my assistant. She’s my goddamn best friend. And you should know that we had already admitted our feelings before the shit hit the fan. I don’t give a rat’s ass about my so-called career, so saving it was never a real factor in anything we did. I asked your daughter to marry me because I can’t live without her. She’s everything, and because we’re speaking frankly here, I have no qualms about informing Mr. Turner and you that absolutely nothing improper went on until after we were engaged.”

That was 99.9% true since he’d asked her several times, despite the fact that the ring and the acceptance took place the morning after they first made love.

Putting his hand on his heart for emphasis, he looked her dead in the eye and declared, “I would never put Paige in jeopardy. Never.”

The way she stared at him made his balls shrink. Then, as if none of that had happened, she nodded once, picked up a scone, and dug in.

“So Miriam tells me that you like to scrapbook. Is that true ‘cause I’m the head of our local Scrap Queens chapter. We have a get-together once a month. Maybe when you and Paige come home for a visit, you’d like to join us."

This lady should be negotiating all our treaties, he thought to himself because never had he been boxed into a corner so quickly or cleanly. She might not be thrilled with the way he made a living, but that wasn’t going to stop the self-proclaimed Redneck Queen of Blueberry County from showing off a celebrity son-in-law to her lady friends. And just like that, he understood why his mom went overboard with the blueberries.

Thanks, Mom.

“You ready for tomorrow?”

She’d been ready for years, but when her mouth opened, what she blurted out was a whiny, “Yes. No. Oh, I don’t know.”

He was all over her like a rash in the next heartbeat. “What’s bothering you? I want to help.”

How could she explain and not sound like a crazy person?

“It’s, um … weird, I guess.”

He looked at her quizzically. “Weird?”

Nope. No two ways about it. She was a crazy person.

“Edward, come on,” she drawled. “I’m the pla

She stopped to catch her breath then started up again. “And our moms are like some kind of possessed bridal pla

“Do you like your dress?”

She glared at him. Really? After that passionate soliloquy, his only reaction is to ask about her dress?

“Babe,” he said softer this time. “Do you … like … your dress?”

Her dress. She couldn’t help the dreamy expression she knew spread across her face.

With something strictly traditional just so, not her style, she’d gone nuts when pawing through rack after rack of elaborate, sometimes gaudy bridal couture, and stumbled upon a dress with a totally different vibe. She knew the moment she tried it on and it fit perfectly that she and that dress were destined to meet.

“I love it.” She glanced at him briefly, and then lowered her gaze. She didn’t want him to see how she really felt. He’d find that out tomorrow when she went to him on her father’s arm because, for Paige, nothing mattered more than his expression when he saw his bride for the first time. The dress was all for him.

They were walking hand in hand, back and forth on the porch, having been forbidden to venture any further so they would be surprised when they saw the spot they’d picked for the ceremony, all fancied up. He stopped and urged her up against the railing, snuggling into her back, with his hand securely around her middle. With his face nuzzling her neck, he said, “You told me once about a birthday party. When you turned thirteen. It was the first time your parents were letting boys come, right?”

She couldn’t believe he remembered that story.

“And what did your mom do? She made all the arrangements and even took you to her hair place. First real manicure … so grown up.”

She heard the loveable teasing in his voice and got all tingly when his scratchy beard rubbed her cheek. He was hot whether clean-shaven or scruffy as fuck. And right now all that hair on his face and his head turned her on. She was bummed that he’d trimmed up the facial hair for their special day.

“There was nothing for you to do that time either. It was your party. It was your day, and all you had to do was show up. And enjoy getting ready.”

He rocked them back and forth slightly, and she held on to the arms holding on to her.

“Remember what you said about the heartbeat before your big entrance?”

If it was possible to love him any more, she did at that moment.

“Yes, I said that knowing it was all for me, from the invitations to the food, almost made me cry …”

“And that standing there in the prettiest dress you’d ever worn made you feel like a princess. That heartbeat of joy was as important to you as the event itself.”

God, he was so smart. And cute.

“Our parents want to do this for us and let’s face it … if this whole getting married thing was left up to you and me, there’s a real good chance a quickie Elvis wedding in Vegas was a possibility.”

He was probably right. “Hey,” she asked turning her face up to his. “So what happens tomorrow night? I’m about over the whole separate bedrooms thing.”