Chapter 10

Callum

“So, when will you move in?” Violet asks, her voice calm, though there’s a hint of curiosity in her eyes as I order a Kunt Kicker IPA from Trudi behind the bar.

“I guess I can move in tonight,” I say, my voice steady, but inside, everything feels off-kilter. The idea of moving in with someone, especially someone I just married in a courthouse earlier today, feels surreal. It’s not like we’re in love or even dating. We made a deal. But still, the reality of sharing a space with her hits me in waves. I’m used to my solitude, my routines. Now, everything’s about to change.

Fuck.

It’s my wedding night, and I should really be with my wife, like really, be with her. You know, the way most newlyweds are. But instead, here we are, sitting at the bar, talking about logistics like we’re negotiating a lease, not a life together.

I glance over at her, feeling the oddness of it all settle in my gut. I know this is what I signed up for, what I wanted—to get my family off my back and help her keep the ranch. But it’s hard to shake the strangeness of it. I should be excited, but everything feels so clinical. So… transactional.

“And then on Sunday, we’ll go to my parents’ house for dinner,” I add, trying to push past the weirdness, reminding myself this is the next step. Introducing her to my family as my wife is going to be a whole thing.

Violet blinks slowly, her long lashes fluttering in the low light of the bar. Her big blue eyes are thoughtful as they meet mine. “Oh, right. The parents,” she says with a soft laugh, though there’s a flicker of hesitation behind it.

I can’t help but smile at the way she says it, like she’s bracing herself for the inevitable awkwardness. “Yeah, the parents,” I echo, taking a long sip of my beer. “It’ll be fine. They’re going to love you.” I’m not sure if I’m saying it to reassure her or myself. Probably both.

The truth is, I don’t know how my parents will react. I mean, this whole thing is sudden, and they’re not exactly used to surprises. But Violet, well, she’s easy to like. I just hope they don’t see through the charade. Because, let’s be honest, this isn’t your typical love story. It’s more like a business arrangement with a wedding band attached.

Violet fidgets with the edge of her sleeve, her fingers tracing the fabric as she thinks. “I’m sure it’ll be… interesting,” she says, her voice soft but not unkind.

“Yeah, interesting’s one way to put it,” I mutter, swirling the beer in my glass. We sit in silence for a moment, the noise of the bar filling the space between us.

"I think this is the last of it," I say, hauling in another box, slightly heavier than the rest, into the spare room of Violet’s cozy rambler. The room smells faintly of lavender and fresh laundry, a far cry from the place I’ve called home for years. I set the box down with a thud, glancing around at the nearly empty room, which is now cluttered with my few belongings.

"You don’t have much stuff," Violet observes, crossing her arms and leaning against the doorframe. Her eyes flicker over the boxes, a trace of curiosity in her expression. "I thought you'd have more."

I shrug, wiping a bead of sweat from my forehead. "Well, I only brought the essentials for now. Didn’t see the point in dragging everything over when…" I trail off, suddenly hyper-aware of how temporary this whole arrangement really is.

"What will you do with your house? Sell it?" she asks, tilting her head slightly, her voice casual, though I can sense the undercurrent of genuine interest.

I shake my head, my hand running through my hair. "No, I’ll probably see if one of my brothers wants to rent it out. It’s a good house, and I’ve put a lot of work into it. After we, uh… you know, get divorced, I’ll just move back in." The word divorce feels awkward on my tongue, like it doesn't belong in this conversation, even though it's been part of the plan from the start.

Violet nods slowly, her gaze drifting away from mine, settling on the boxes piled against the wall. "That makes sense," she murmurs, her voice thoughtful, almost distant.

I watch her for a moment, feeling a strange tightness in my chest. There’s something surreal about this whole situation. Moving in with her like this, discussing a divorce that hasn’t even happened yet—it feels so backwards. We’re playing house in the weirdest way possible.

"Yeah," I say, more to fill the silence than anything else. "Figured it’s best to keep things simple. No need to make this more complicated than it has to be."

She glances up at me then, offering a small smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. "Simple is good," she agrees softly, though there’s a flicker of something else in her expression. Something I can’t quite place.

I clear my throat, shifting awkwardly on my feet. "Well, that’s everything for now. I’ll unpack and stay out of your way."

“I’m going to take a shower and get ready for bed.”

I glance at my watch. “It’s still early.”

She smiles and it nearly kicks me on my ass. It makes me want to keep finding ways to make her smile like this. “Early bird gets the worm.” She leaves the doorway and heads off down the hall.

Anyone want to rent out my house? I’ve officially moved in with my wife.

Shepherd: How’s that going?

Easy. Nothing to it.

Brock: Willow and I are looking for a place together while we save for our own place. We’ll take it.

Anya: You’re moved in on the ranch? You’ll be a real cowboy in no time.

Highly doubt that.

Hartford: How sweet. Also, Anya we’re still planning on going camping next weekend, right?

Anya: Yes, Griffin got the time off work.

I don’t think I approved all this time off for everyone.

Shepherd: I’ll still be here. Baby’s been teething and it’s been a nightmare. Only Pax, Hart, Anya, and Griffin are going.

Brock: Willow and I are trying to work things out where we can come too.

Tripp: Yeah, congrats on the move in, Cal. I won’t be able to make it to the camping trip as Millie and I are hitting the road for my book tour.

Anya: Cal, you and Violet should come camping with us.

No can do. Somebody has a restaurant to run. Besides, I’m not sure, but I think Violet can’t just run off into the mountains to camp.

Hartford: We should add her to this chat.

No.

Brock: You’re no fun.

I pocket my phone when I hear the shower turn on from the bathroom down the hall. These old houses don’t have en-suite bathrooms, and I think about Violet for a brief moment. Soapy suds running down her body.

Fuck.

I need to stop thinking about my wife like this. Wife. The word alone sends a ripple through me, a strange mix of pride and possessiveness. Every time I remind myself that Violet is my wife, something primal stirs inside me—a sense of claim that I can’t quite shake. She’s mine.

I’ve never been the possessive type in my past relationships. I’ve always prided myself on being laid-back, respectful of space, but with Violet, it’s different. There’s something about being her husband that brings out my inner caveman, a part of me I didn’t even know existed. And it’s unsettling how natural it feels.

I’m still standing in the hallway, caught up in my own thoughts, when the water from the bathroom shuts off. I should move. I know I should, but my feet are glued to the floor as if waiting for something I can’t name. The door opens a moment later, and Violet steps out, wrapped in nothing but a fluffy, light-blue towel that clings to her damp skin, droplets of water still trailing down her bare shoulders.

Her eyes meet mine, wide with surprise. “Oh… right. I’m not used to this at all.” Her voice is soft, almost embarrassed as she instinctively tries to step back into the bathroom, her fingers clutching the towel tighter around her body.

I should look away. I should give her space, but for a second, I’m frozen—caught between the instinct to protect her and the sudden awareness of how intimate this situation really is. I finally force myself to turn around, breaking the moment before it becomes something more.

“No need,” I say, my voice gruffer than I intended. “I shouldn’t have been standing here… gawking.” Heat snakes up my neck as I rub the back of it awkwardly, feeling like a total creep.

She lets out a small, nervous laugh. “It’s okay. We’re still figuring this whole living-together thing out.”

“Yeah,” I agree, though I can’t shake the image of her standing there, fresh from the shower, the scent of lavender soap hanging in the air. “I’ll, uh, give you some privacy.”

Before she can say anything else, I make a hasty retreat down the hallway, feeling a mix of frustration and something else I can’t quite put my finger on. I’ve got to get a grip. This was supposed to be a simple arrangement. Nothing more. But with every passing second, Violet becomes harder to ignore.

And that’s dangerous.