Chapter 6

Callum

“Whoa,” I breathe out, barely able to form a coherent thought as Violet opens the door. My heart skips a beat, maybe two. She’s standing there, framed by the soft light from inside, looking absolutely stunning. Gorgeous doesn’t even begin to cover it. She’s wearing this long, flowy dress covered in delicate purple flowers, the fabric moving slightly in the evening breeze like it’s made to dance around her. The dress hugs her in all the right places, but in the most effortless, natural way, like she threw it on without a second thought.

Her fiery hair is braided and it looks so good on her. And her lips— God, her lips —look so damn inviting, full and soft, like I could lean in and kiss them for hours. My thoughts go wild for a second, imagining what it would feel like to pull her close, to taste those lips, to lose myself in the warmth of her body pressed against mine.

What the hell am I thinking?

I blink, shaking my head to clear the rush of emotion that hit me out of nowhere. Violet’s about to become my wife, but not in the way I’ve just been fantasizing about. Not really my wife. No, this is just a business arrangement. A deal. Something to help her keep her ranch in her hands and to get my family off my back.

I remind myself that’s all this is. Two years of a fake marriage to solve our separate problems. But looking at her now, standing there like something out of a dream, it’s getting harder to convince myself that I won’t feel something more. Something real. And that’s dangerous.

“Hi,” she pipes out, her voice soft but steady, eyes locking onto mine like they’re searching for something, or maybe waiting for me to say the right thing. There’s this brief moment where it feels like the world narrows down to just the two of us, her gaze crashing into mine, making my heart do a weird little flip.

“Hi,” I manage to reply, my voice a little rougher than I expected. I step inside as she moves back, giving me space to enter. The warmth of the house hits me instantly. The scent wraps around me, rich and comforting. It smells like a home-cooked meal—something hearty, warm, like roast chicken or maybe stew. Whatever it is, it smells incredible.

I haven’t had a meal like that in ages, and for a second, I can’t help but think about how long it’s been since I’ve walked into a house that feels like... well, home. My place is fine, but it’s all hard edges and silence. Functional. Here, though, it feels lived-in. The air feels soft, the lighting low and warm.

The dining table is set, simple but thoughtful, with two plates, a vase of wildflowers in the center, and candles flickering softly like a gentle invitation. I swallow hard, suddenly feeling out of place. This isn’t what I expected at all. I thought we’d sign some papers, have a drink, and call it a night. But standing here, surrounded by the cozy smells and the dim glow of the candles, it feels... intimate. Too intimate for something that’s supposed to be just a business deal.

I catch myself glancing at her again, noticing the little things—the way her hair catches the light, the slight nervousness in her smile.

“You can have a seat,” she says, her voice gentle as she gestures toward the dining room table, where everything is perfectly set up. The plates are already out, silverware arranged just right, and the soft glow of the candles flickers against the warm wood of the table.

“You didn’t need to do all this,” I murmur as I take a step closer, still feeling the weight of the atmosphere around us. It’s cozy, almost too inviting for what we’re about to do.

“All what?” she asks, tilting her head slightly, her eyes catching the light. She looks genuinely puzzled, like she doesn’t even realize how much effort she’s put into this.

“Candles. This... extravagant dinner.” I gesture toward the table, noticing the spread. It’s more than just a casual meal. There’s bread in a basket, something bubbling in a covered dish that smells like heaven, and the wildflowers in the vase are fresh, like she went out and picked them this morning. It feels like a scene out of a movie.

She laughs, but it’s a quick, almost nervous sound. “Honestly, it’s been nice to have someone to cook for. I haven’t made a big meal like this since my dad was alive.”

At the mention of her father, her voice softens, and I can see a flicker of something behind her eyes—sadness, maybe, or just the weight of the memory. I bow my head slightly, suddenly feeling like I’ve intruded on something personal. “Oh, right,” I say quietly, moving toward the table to take a seat. There’s an awkwardness that settles between us, but it’s not the kind that makes you want to leave. It’s the kind that makes you want to understand more.

It’s strange, thinking about her and her father. I remember how close they were, how much they seemed to get along, at least as much as I could tell from the few times I saw them together. And now, knowing that the only reason she’s even considering this ridiculous arrangement is because of his will. It feels... off. Why would a father, who clearly loved his daughter, put such a condition on her life? Why force her into a marriage just to keep the land she’s worked so hard to maintain?

I glance at her as she sits across from me, her hands resting delicately on the edge of the table, fingers tapping absently against the wood. The silence between us feels heavier now, charged with everything unsaid. “So…” I let the word hang in the air, trying to figure out where to even start with this bizarre arrangement.

Her eyes meet mine, steady, but there’s something flickering behind them—uncertainty, maybe, or just the weight of what we’re about to dive into. “So,” she repeats, her voice calm but cautious, like she’s testing the waters. “I guess we should start with rules?”

I nod, grateful for the structure. “I like rules.” Rules mean control, and control means everything stays neat and in its place. No surprises. I can deal with rules.

She leans forward slightly, dishing out some chicken onto a plate as she talks, the simple action grounding the conversation. “I was thinking once you move in, I have a spare room you can sleep in.”

Her words catch me off guard, and I pause mid-reach for a roll. “Wait,” I say, confused. “I just figured I’d stay at my place.”

She hands me the plate, and I take it automatically, the smell of the roasted chicken, potatoes, and green beans rising up between us. It’s a perfect home-cooked meal, but my brain’s too busy processing the idea of living here to fully appreciate it. “Thanks,” I mutter, grabbing the roll and tearing into it, needing something to do with my hands.

Violet’s focused on making her own plate now, as if this is all just casual, but her next words shift the mood again. “The will states you have to live here. On the ranch.”

I blow out a breath, the exhaustion of it all hitting me. Of course, there had to be more strings attached. “Well, that was unexpected,” I admit, leaning back in my chair for a moment, trying to absorb the new reality. Living here? It’s not like I’m far from the brewery, but still, this makes everything more... real . “But, okay, I guess you’re not too far from the brewery. We can make this work.”

She looks relieved that I’m not putting up a fight, but there’s still tension in the air, like we’re both waiting for the next hurdle.

“Yeah,” she says quietly, glancing down at her food. “It’ll be... different, having someone around all the time.”

I can’t tell if that’s a good thing or not in her eyes, but I can already feel the weight of what we’ve agreed to pressing down on me. Sharing a space. Pretending to be married. I shove a forkful of potatoes into my mouth, trying to push aside the uneasy feeling crawling up my spine.

Rules. We just need more rules, and everything will be fine.

“What are you going to tell your family?” Violet asks, her voice soft but curious as she watches me across the table.

I swallow, the weight of the question hitting me harder than I expected. “The truth,” I say finally, picking up my water glass and taking a long sip. The cool liquid does little to soothe the tightness in my chest. “I always tell them the truth. I’m not going to start telling lies now.”

She gives me a small smile, one that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Okay, but how do you think they’ll react?”

I let out a slow breath, setting my glass down with more force than I intended. “Honestly? I’m not really sure. But this is my life.” My voice hardens a little, surprising even me. “I’m tired of my family looking at me like I’m some sort of lost cause. Like I’m the last one left in the single lane and they’re just waiting for me to crash and burn.” I rub a hand over my face, feeling the frustration creep in. “This will get everyone off my back, and it’s a win-win for you. You get to keep the ranch, and I get my peace.”

She nods slowly, thinking it over. “Right. Well, what about the whole town? You know how everyone around here loves to talk. They’ll be up in our business the second they hear about us getting married.”

I freeze for a second, my movements stalling as her words sink in. “Violet,” I say, locking eyes with her, “this is our life. Who cares what anyone else thinks? They can talk all they want, but we know the truth. That’s all that matters.”

A spark of something flickers in her gaze, and for the first time tonight, her smile is genuine, softening the tension in the room. “I like that idea,” she says, her voice quieter now, but with a hint of approval.

A warmth spreads through my chest, unexpected and comforting. I’m realizing there’s a lot about this situation that I’m starting to like more than I should. The easy way we’ve fallen into this conversation, the way she looks at me when I speak, hell, even the idea of spending time with her isn’t as terrifying as I thought it would be.

I lean back in my chair, letting the moment hang between us. “Good,” I say, my voice a little rougher than before. “Because I think we’re going to be just fine.”

“How should we do it?”

I nearly choke on my roll as she says the words. “Excuse me?” I ask her.

Her cheeks tinge pink. “I mean, how should we get married?”

I relax, realizing she wasn’t talking about sex. However, now that it’s crossed my mind I wonder if we’ll have rules in place for that. “Courthouse? Tomorrow?”

She nods, setting down her cutlery. “Okay. I can make that happen.”

I breathe in deeply, and let it out slowly. “About the other thing…”

She cuts in, “The other thing?”

“Sex.”

“Oh,” she says, her eyes widening to the size of quarters, “that.”

“We don’t have to sleep together,” I rush out, feeling horrible at the thought that she thinks I’d expect sex from her. “I was just thinking like…if you wanted to bring a man home, or if I brought…” I can’t even finish my sentence. My thought. It’s too absurd. I’d never bring a woman to her ranch to sleep with. The thought makes me ill.

However, Violet’s already jumped to conclusions. “Hey, I’m not going to stop you. If you want to sleep with other women, like I said, this is nothing more than a contract.”

I feel horrible, and a pit forms at the bottom of my chest. “I’m not saying I’d bring anyone home.” Ugh. “I’m just thinking if you met a man…” I don’t even know what I’m thinking at this point as I fumble over my words.

She blinks at me. “I won’t.” There’s a finality in her tone, so I decide to drop the subject.

“I can go to the courthouse and get our license tomorrow. Find out everything we need to do to get married there.”

“I appreciate that.”

The air between us is awkward now, filled with an unusual tension. Getting married is a lot more than I thought it would be. I haven’t wanted to date, hell even sleep with, another woman in years. So, I know I can go two years without sex.

It’s just going to be hard with Violet staying here as well.

And I’d be lying if the thought of her being my wife didn’t make her even more attractive than she already is. If that’s even possible.