Chapter 8

Callum

When I offered to marry Violet, I thought it would be easy. No big deal, right? Just a business arrangement that would solve both our problems. But now that it's real, now that the papers are signed and I’ve called her my wife, something feels... different. Standing next to her, saying the word “wife” feels odd, almost surreal. I didn’t expect it to stir anything in me, but here I am, feeling a tug I can't quite explain.

I glance at Violet as we walk the few blocks to Atta Boy Brewery. She’s walking beside me, her long flowy dress catching in the breeze, making her look effortlessly beautiful. I motion to the bar when we arrive, gesturing for her to take a seat.

“I’ll join you in a second,” I say, forcing a smile. “Let me just check on a few things.”

She nods, her hair shimmering under the low lights of the brewery. The dress swishes lightly between her legs as she walks to the bar, settling into a seat like she’s done this a million times before. “Take your time,” she says. Her voice is soft, but there's an undercurrent of understanding in it that makes me pause. “Oh, which beer should I try?” she asks, glancing up at me with a playful grin.

I can't help but smile back. “You’ll like the Puppy Politics Pilsner.”

Her eyes light up, a little spark of excitement in them. “Cute name.”

“Thanks,” I reply, rubbing the back of my neck, feeling a bit bashful. “I actually came up with the recipe and the name.”

She raises her eyebrows, impressed. “Then I’m sure I’ll love it.”

For some reason, her simple words send a wave of pride through me. It’s ridiculous. I’ve been praised before, hell, I run this place, but something about her approval makes it different. Makes it mean something. Maybe it’s because she’s my wife now, even if this isn’t a real marriage. It’s still her. And that thought, for reasons I can’t quite put my finger on, fills me with a sense of accomplishment.

I watch as Violet lifts her glass to her lips, taking that first sip, her expression unreadable for a moment before she gives a small nod of approval. It shouldn’t matter this much, but somehow, it does.

Now I just need to tell my brothers. They need to hear it from me first before the town catches wind. I can already imagine their faces, the questions, the teasing. My gut tightens at the thought, but I know I can't avoid it. This is my life now—a wife, even if it’s all for show—and it's time I face the music.

I head into the kitchen, the familiar clang of pots and the hum of simmering food filling the air. It’s a slow afternoon, not much action happening, which is rare for a place like ours. I spot Griffin behind the line, tossing something in a pan, and give him a nod.

“Hey,” I say, leaning against the counter. “Where is everyone?”

He shrugs, glancing up from his station. “Saw Shep earlier. Maybe they’re all down in Hercules testing out the new beer Brock made.”

Ah, Hercules. Our pride and joy. It’s not just any walk-in cooler—it’s one of the biggest in the state, something we’ve bragged about more times than I can count. If you're serious about brewing, you need serious storage, and Hercules fits the bill. I rap my knuckles along the cool stainless steel counter, feeling the cold vibrate through my hand. “Can you step away for a minute?” I motion with my chin toward the kitchen door, wanting Griffin to follow me.

Griffin wipes his hands on a bar towel, then nods. “Hey, Kurt, you good to cover the line for a bit?” he calls out, already moving toward me.

“Sure thing, boss,” Kurt says without looking up, busy slicing into a loaf of bread.

With Griffin on my heels, we weave our way out of the kitchen and head downstairs to the brewery level. The smell of hops and fermenting yeast grows stronger as we descend. It’s my favorite scent in the world.

“Think they’re actually down there?” Griffin asks as we hit the main floor.

“If they’re testing Brock’s new batch, then yeah,” I say, glancing toward the entrance to Hercules. My brothers are creatures of habit. If there’s a new beer, they’re going to be the first to try it.

We walk through the industrial space, past the rows of gleaming vats and towering kegs, the hum of the machinery a low constant in the background. There’s something about this place, the heart of our family business, that always feels like home. But right now, there’s a weight on my shoulders that even the comfort of the brewery can’t ease. I have to tell them.

As we approach the door to Hercules, the cold air seeps out, a sign that the cooler is packed and ready for a new batch. I take a deep breath and motion for Griffin to hang back for a second. “Let me find them first,” I say, trying to steady myself. The last thing I need is my brothers getting blindsided with this news in front of everyone.

Griffin raises an eyebrow, but nods, leaning against one of the stainless steel fermenters. “Good luck,” he says with a smirk, clearly amused by my nerves. I roll my eyes, taking one last deep breath before pushing the heavy door open.

The cold hits me instantly, but it’s not just the temperature that makes me shiver. It’s the realization that I’m about to walk in here and drop a bomb on my brothers’ lives.

“Can I talk to you guys?” I ask, my voice just a little too tight as I look at my four younger brothers. They’re all here, even Tripp, which surprises me. He’s been so busy with his book tour that seeing him in the brewery feels like a rare event.

Shepherd, Pax, Brock, and Tripp stop what they’re doing. They all exchange glances before stepping out of Hercules, the cold air still clinging to their clothes. Griffin stays back, but I can tell he’s curious too, lingering nearby with his arms crossed. These men are more than my family—they’re my team. And I’m about to drop a bombshell that’s going to blindside them all.

“Something wrong?” Shepherd, ever the protector, asks first, his brows furrowing with concern. His eyes search mine like he’s bracing for bad news.

“Did we lose a vendor?” Paxton chimes in, his mind always locked on logistics and product placement. He’s already mentally reworking deals, I can tell.

I shake my head, trying to loosen the knot of nerves that’s twisting up my stomach. “No, it’s nothing like that.” My heart’s pounding in my chest, and it feels like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff, ready to jump. “I… uh, I’m married.”

The silence that follows is like a lead weight dropping into the room.

“Wait, what?” Tripp’s the first to break the quiet, disbelief clear on his face. I avoid his eyes, not ready to admit that his girlfriend was the one who signed as our witness. The less he knows about that, the better.

“To who?” Brock asks, his voice tinged with shock as if I’ve just told him I bought a yacht or moved to the moon.

“You’re not even dating anyone,” Paxton says, blinking like he’s trying to process this new information. He looks to the others, his expression a mirror of their shared confusion. “Right? He’s not dating anyone. You’re not, right?”

I stuff my hands in my pockets, feeling the weight of their stares. “I’m not dating anyone,” I admit. This is it. No turning back now. I suck in a deep breath, ready to tell them everything, to explain this whirlwind of a decision that’s going to flip everything upside down. "It's... it's Violet."

There’s a pause.

“Violet?” Shepherd echoes, his eyes widening. "As in, Violet Violet?" He glances at the others, clearly trying to connect the dots.

“Yeah,” I say, bracing myself. "Violet Daniels—the rancher. We got married today."

The shock on their faces deepens. Paxton lets out a low whistle while Brock raises both eyebrows. Tripp just stares at me like he’s waiting for the punchline to some bizarre joke.

"You got married, just like that?" Tripp asks, still incredulous. "Why? I mean, out of the blue like this?"

I glance down at my feet, shuffling slightly before I meet their eyes again. "It’s complicated," I begin, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. "It’s more of a... deal. You know? She needs help keeping her ranch, and well, I needed to get Mom and the rest of you off my back about settling down. It seemed like a win-win."

“A deal? Like a business deal?” Brock asks, a smirk creeping onto his face. "That’s one way to solve a problem."

Paxton crosses his arms, looking a little more serious. "And you're sure this is what you want? I mean, you’re really okay with this?"

I nod, though I can feel my pulse racing. "Yeah, I am. It’s just for a couple of years, and then we’ll go our separate ways. It’s no big deal."

But even as I say it, the words feel heavier than they should.

“What’s no big deal?” Anya asks, stepping over to Griffin and wrapping her arms around his waist, her curiosity palpable as she glances around at the tense atmosphere. “You all look so serious. What did I miss?”

I can’t help but shake my head, looking at my little sister. Anya who somehow ended up dating my best friend, Griffin. Honestly, I couldn’t be happier for them. They’re the perfect match. But still, it’s like everyone’s paired off, and I’ve been the odd man out. Not anymore though, right? Now, everything's changed.

“Callum got married today,” Paxton blurts out, cutting right to the chase.

Anya’s green eyes widen, so big they look like they might pop out of her head. “To who?” Her voice goes up an octave, the shock clear on her face. She looks like I just dropped the most ridiculous bombshell.

Before I can say a word, Tripp jumps in, clearly putting pieces together. “Wait, is that why Millie left this afternoon? She was all secretive this morning, said she had something important to do at the courthouse today.”

I nod slowly, bracing for the incoming storm. “Yeah, Millie was our witness.”

Anya pulls herself out of Griffin’s embrace, stepping forward with both hands firmly parked on her hips, her signature stance when she’s about to lecture someone. “Somebody better tell me who Callum married. Wait…” Her face suddenly shifts, recognition dawning in her eyes as she pieces everything together. “Violet’s at the bar.” She gasps, her hands flying to cover her mouth. “Oh my god, please tell me you didn’t marry Violet.”

The room is suddenly heavy, like the air’s been sucked out. Anya’s disbelief echoes in my ears, and I feel all my brothers staring at me, waiting for my reaction.

“Yeah,” I say, my voice quieter than I intended. “I married Violet.”

Her eyes widen even more—if that’s even possible—and she practically yells, “You married Violet? As in the Violet we’ve all known forever? The one with the ranch?”

“That’s the one,” I admit, rubbing the back of my neck as if that’ll somehow ease the tension. “It’s a long story, Anya.”

“A long story?” she repeats, her tone incredulous. “You think getting married out of nowhere to Violet is just some casual long story?”

I raise my hands, trying to calm her down before she gets too carried away. “Look, it’s not what you think. It’s a business arrangement. She needs help keeping her ranch, and well, I’m tired of everyone treating me like I’m going to be single forever. So, we both get something out of it. It’s a win-win.”

“A business arrangement?” Anya echoes, shaking her head like she can’t quite believe what she’s hearing. “You’ve seriously gone and married one of the sweetest girls in this town for a business deal?”

Griffin steps forward, putting a reassuring hand on Anya’s shoulder, but she shrugs him off, still looking at me like I’ve lost my mind. “I know it sounds crazy,” I continue, trying to keep my voice steady. “But it makes sense for both of us. She keeps her land, I get everyone off my back. We help each other out.”

Anya looks at me for a long moment, her expression softening just a little. “I just… I don’t get it, Cal. You really think you can pretend to be married to her and not get attached? I mean, it’s Violet. You’ve known her forever.”

“I know,” I say, swallowing hard, feeling the weight of the situation settle on my chest. “Trust me, I’ve thought about that.” More than I care to admit, if I’m being honest with myself. There’s no denying that being around Violet stirs something in me, something I can’t quite put a name to.

Tripp shifts the focus. “How are you going to tell Mom and Dad?” he asks, slipping his phone back into his pocket. I know he’s just texted Millie to get the scoop on the courthouse wedding. He never lets anything slide by unnoticed.

I shrug, trying to act casual, though I feel anything but. “I guess at Sunday dinner,” I reply, though the thought of springing this on our parents makes my stomach twist. Mom will probably freak out, and Dad… well, I’m not sure what Dad will think. He’s always been good at hiding his reactions, but this? This might push him over the edge.

The questions keep coming, one after another. “Where are you two going to live?” Paxton asks, crossing his arms like he’s trying to figure out how this whole thing could possibly make sense.

“And how are you going to handle being married? I mean, come on, Cal, you barely even know her like that,” Brock adds, looking genuinely confused.

“I’ve known Violet for years,” I say, but even as the words leave my mouth, I know they’re not quite right. I’ve known of her, but knowing her like this— like as my wife —is a whole different thing.

“She’s different now, though, right?” Anya chimes in, her voice more thoughtful, her arms now crossed in front of her as she leans against the bar. “You’re not just helping her keep her ranch. You’ll have to actually live together, be around each other all the time. You sure you’re ready for that?”

I rub the back of my neck, the pressure of their questions bearing down on me. “Yeah, I’ll be moving into her place,” I admit, glancing down at my watch, hoping to signal that this grilling session is about to end. “We’ve got a plan. We’ll figure it out.” But even as I say it, I wonder if that’s entirely true. Everything feels a little too… real now. Like it’s hitting me for the first time.

“She’s still up at the bar, right?” Shep asks, his brow furrowed. “You just left her there alone?”

I nod. “Yeah. I had to talk to you guys, get this off my chest.”

Anya, always quick on her feet, suddenly bolts toward the stairs. “I’m talking to her first!” she declares over her shoulder, and I know there’s no stopping her.

I sigh as she takes the steps two at a time, the energy in the room shifting as everyone stares at me in disbelief. Well, the cat’s officially out of the bag now. My family knows, and soon the whole damn town will too.

“Good luck, man,” Griffin says with a grin, clapping me on the shoulder as if I’m headed into battle.

I let out a humorless laugh, shaking my head. “Yeah, I think I’m gonna need it.” Then, with one last glance at my brothers, I head back upstairs to face whatever’s coming next.