Chapter 9

Violet

I’m halfway through my second Puppy Politics Pilsner, which, I have to admit, is just as delicious as Callum said it would be. There’s something fascinating about the fact that he not only named this beer but created it from scratch. It takes a real talent to brew something so unique and memorable, and for the first time, I find myself thinking about Callum beyond just our arrangement.

The bartender slides my fresh beer across the counter with a friendly smile. “I’m Trudi,” she says, introducing herself.

“Hi, I’m Violet,” I reply, returning her smile as I take another sip of the pilsner. The atmosphere in Atta Boy Brewery is warm, and despite everything going on in my life, the beer and the surroundings are helping to calm my nerves.

She leans her tattooed arms on the counter, her expression curious. “So, what do you do?”

“I own and run Sagebrush Ranch,” I say with pride, a little boost of confidence returning to my voice. It feels good to say that aloud, to remind myself that I’m capable of running something so significant.

“Oh,” she says, her face softening. “Your father was a great man. I’m so sorry for your loss.” Her eyes carry that familiar look of pity, the one I’ve grown accustomed to seeing since my father passed. Everyone in Magnolia Ridge knew him—respected him even. His absence still lingers, a quiet shadow over every conversation I have with anyone who knew him.

I offer a tight smile and nod. “Thank you.” But the last thing I want is to delve into that well of grief right now, especially not today of all days. The wedding band on my finger suddenly feels heavier. I’m wearing this ring because of my father wanting me married to keep the ranch.

I shift the conversation quickly. “So, what’s it like working at Atta Boy?” I ask, eager to steer things in a different direction. Anything but my father.

Trudi’s face lights up again as she straightens herself. “It’s honestly the best. Callum is an amazing boss. He really cares about the people who work here. All the Atwoods are fabulous, to be honest. They’re caring, generous… I feel unbelievably lucky to be here.” Her admiration is obvious, and I can’t help but notice how highly she speaks of Callum.

The Atwoods are beloved in this town, just as much—if not more—than my father was. A part of me has always known this, but hearing it firsthand from someone who works for them makes it all feel more real. They’ve built something strong, something lasting.

I glance down at the gold band on my finger again, the simple ring that signifies a marriage of convenience. Callum was supposed to be sitting here with me, celebrating this strange new chapter of our lives. But of course, business called. I get it. I truly do. It’s part of why I agreed to this arrangement in the first place. But knowing that doesn’t make the sting any less sharp. Sitting here alone, feeling like I’ve been stood up on my wedding day—even if it’s not a real one—hurts in ways I wasn’t prepared for.

Trudi chuckles softly before turning her back to tend to another customer. “So, I don’t know what’s going on, but good luck,” she says with a wink, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I sit there for a moment, staring at the pilsner in front of me. My heart feels heavy with everything this marriage represents—saving the ranch, keeping the memory of my father alive, and now, navigating this strange, new connection to Callum.

As I take another sip of my drink, I hear the soft creak of a barstool being pulled out beside me. It feels strange since there are plenty of empty seats at the bar. I glance over, expecting to see a random customer, but instead, I’m met with a striking woman who radiates a calm confidence.

“Violet, I’m Anya Atwood, your sister-in-law, but you probably already know who I am although we’ve never been properly introduced.”

I nearly choke on my drink, coughing as I cover my mouth with my hand, my head snapping toward her in shock. Sister-in-law. The words hit me like a freight train, and it takes a moment to register what she just said. “Yeah,” I cough out.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you choke,” Anya says quickly, lightly patting my back in an attempt to help. Her touch is gentle, but I can sense the energy behind it, like she’s trying to make a point of her presence.

I clear my throat, sitting up a bit straighter, trying to shake off the embarrassment of almost spitting out my beer. “No, it’s all right. I’m fine.” My fingers wrap tightly around the cold glass of my pilsner. Callum's family. Of course, it was only a matter of time before they got involved.

“So, Callum told you?” I ask, keeping my voice as steady as I can.

Anya nods, her smile widening. “Yes, and I wanted to be the first to welcome you to the family. I’m thrilled for you guys,” she says, clapping her hands together like this is the happiest news she’s heard in years.

I freeze. Thrilled? Does she know the real reason for this marriage? I thought Callum was going to tell them the truth, but now I’m not so sure. Did he change his mind? A pit forms in my stomach. Maybe he painted a more romantic picture to keep up appearances. “Thanks,” I whisper, focusing on the wood grain of the bar, suddenly very interested in the patterns.

“Violet,” Anya says softly, drawing my gaze back to her. Her bright green eyes meet mine, but there’s a flicker of uncertainty there. “I don’t really understand why you guys would do this, but I have to believe there’s at least a little bit of attraction or feelings involved, right?”

Her hopeful tone makes my chest tighten. I force a small smile, shaking my head. “No,” I say gently, trying to let her down easy. “There are no feelings involved. Callum has literally saved my life, and I’m unbelievably grateful for that, but this is just... complicated.” I swallow hard, trying to find the right words. “It’s all just going to take some getting used to—for everyone.”

“Saved your life?” Anya’s brows knit together, confusion etched on her face.

I take a deep breath, knowing I can’t dodge the truth any longer. “If I didn’t get married by the time I turned thirty, I’d lose the ranch,” I admit quietly, the weight of those words heavier than ever.

Her eyes widen, shock washing over her face as she processes what I’ve said. “Wow,” she whispers, shaking her head like she can’t quite believe it. “So... you guys got married to save your ranch?” Her voice is soft, almost reverent, but I can see the gears turning in her mind. “Callum put someone else before himself. He put someone else before the brewery.”

She grabs my shoulders, her face lighting up with excitement. “Violet, this is huge for him! Do you understand? He must have a thing for you. This isn’t just some business arrangement for him. There’s no way.”

I blink at her, completely taken aback by the intensity in her voice, by the hopeful gleam in her eyes. It’s like having the same conversation I had with Millie all over again, only this time, it feels even more overwhelming. I sigh softly, shaking my head.

“No,” I say, trying to stay patient, even though my heart’s pounding in my chest. “He just understands what it’s like to love what you do more than anything else. That’s all this is. A marriage on paper to keep the lawyers off my back and the ranch in my name. Nothing more.”

Anya’s expression falters, and I feel a pang of guilt twist in my chest. I’m not sure why I feel the need to apologize, but I do. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, unsure of what else to say.

Anya stares at me for a moment, and I can see the disappointment in her eyes, like I’ve crushed some romantic fantasy she was clinging to. She lets go of my shoulders and forces a smile. “I just want the best for both of you,” she says softly. “I really do.”

“I know,” I reply, wishing I could believe there was something more to this too. But this isn’t a romance novel, no matter how much everyone around me seems to want it to be.

"Well, if it isn’t the groom," Anya says, her voice light and teasing as she looks behind me.

Before I can turn around, I feel the warmth of Callum’s presence close to my back. His familiar cologne, earthy with a hint of spice, wraps around me, immediately soothing my frazzled nerves. The sensation catches me off guard. Why do I feel so... calm all of a sudden? It's confusing.

“Anya, I hope you’ve been nice,” Callum says, his tone sharp enough to make me wonder if he's used to his sister pushing boundaries.

Anya laughs and stands, completely unfazed by his tone. “I’m always nice,” she retorts, her eyes flicking between the two of us with a mischievous gleam. “I support this, by the way. You two should totally have a party to celebrate.”

“No, that’s not necessary,” I rush out, my voice more panicked than I intend. The last thing I need is the entire town buzzing about this fake marriage and throwing us some sort of reception.

Anya looks like she's about to argue, but Callum cuts her off. “Anya, get back to work.”

I glance back at him, a little surprised by the sudden sternness in his voice. It’s a tone I haven’t heard from him before, and I can’t help but think back to all the rumors I’ve heard about Callum being a no-nonsense businessman. So, this is the grumpy Callum everyone talks about. I steal a peek at Anya, but she doesn’t seem bothered at all. If anything, she looks entertained by her brother's sharp words.

“Fine, but this isn’t over,” Anya says with a sly smile. She pulls me into a quick hug, and I awkwardly return it. “We’re going to be such good friends,” she adds, her voice sing-songs as she saunters away.

“Goodbye, Anya,” Callum hisses under his breath, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck.

She giggles as she walks off, disappearing behind the bar without a care in the world. Callum exhales loudly before sinking into the seat she just vacated. The gruffness in his expression softens as his eyes meet mine, the tension melting away.

“Sorry about that,” he says, his voice low and apologetic. “I hope she wasn’t too intrusive.”

Not wanting to make things more uncomfortable, I force a small smile and take a sip of my beer. “No, she was fine.”

His brow arches slightly, clearly not buying it. “I’m sure she wasn’t. Anya can be a little... much sometimes. But I wanted to tell my siblings about our arrangement before they heard it from someone else.”

I look down at the condensation gathering on my glass, feeling oddly vulnerable in this moment. “You don’t need to explain anything to me.”

He leans back in his seat, his eyes studying my face. “When it comes to this situation, yes I do.”

We fall into a brief but noticeable silence, both of us lost in our own thoughts. I swirl my drink, watching the pale gold liquid ripple in the glass, wondering how we’re supposed to navigate this strange dynamic. A marriage of convenience doesn't come with a handbook, and I can already feel the awkwardness creeping in between us.

I glance at Callum again, his face relaxed but his mind clearly working. How are we going to manage this? We may have agreed this is just a business deal, but it’s becoming clearer that our lives are now intertwined in ways I didn’t fully consider. We're tied together for the next two years—whether we like it or not.

Finally, Callum breaks the silence. “You know, for what it’s worth, I think this will work out just fine. We’re both adults. We can figure this out.”

His words are meant to reassure, but I can’t help the doubt that creeps in. "I hope you're right," I murmur, taking another sip of my beer, trying to push down the uncertainty gnawing at me.

Because no matter how practical this arrangement seemed, the reality of being married to Callum is beginning to feel a lot more complicated than I ever expected.