Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 65156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Maybe it’s the way my mother looks at me during every family dinner. That subtle glance she thinks I don’t notice when my siblings are laughing and sharing inside jokes with their partners. They’re all wrapped up in their own little worlds, whispering, touching, happy. And then there’s me. Alone. Sitting at the far end of the table, trying to blend in with the conversations, but feeling the weight of being the odd one out.
I can see it in my mom’s eyes. She’s waiting, wondering when it’ll be my turn, when I’ll find someone who makes me smile the way my brothers and sister do with their partners. And I don’t know what to say to her.
Honestly, I’d rather work. Isn’t that enough? Can’t I just be in love with the brewery? With my job? I don’t need a woman to keep me company at night. I’m doing just fine on my own. More than fine. I don’t need candlelit dinners or whispered sweet nothings to feel fulfilled. The smell of hops, the satisfaction of a fresh brew. It’s enough, right?
I’m happy, goddammit. Happy in my routine, in the quiet of my own space, with nothing and no one to answer to. But... there’s that persistent voice in the back of my head, the one that keeps reminding me of family dinners and Mom’s disappointed stares. Maybe I can marry Violet and get everyone off my back. Kill two birds with one stone. It’s not like either of us are doing much in the romance department anyway. She needs a husband, and marriage is just... a contract, right?
“You’re down to four minutes,” Violet says, her voice snapping me out of my own head. She’s standing there, tapping the toe of her boot into the dust.
I can’t help but smile. She’s cute in this sort of cowgirl way that I’ve never really noticed before. There’s something about the way she stands, confident and comfortable, like she belongs out here more than anywhere else. Her jeans fit her just right. Not too tight, but snug enough to show off her curves. They’re worn, with little patches of dirt and wear along the seams, but somehow that just makes her look more... real. Like she’s not trying to impress anyone, and it works.
Then there’s that peach cowgirl hat she’s got on, perfectly matching the soft peach color of her shirt. The whole outfit is unintentionally coordinated in this easy, effortless way, and it makes me wonder—does she have a different colored hat for every outfit? The thought makes me chuckle under my breath. I bet she does. Violet always has this way of surprising me.
“What are you laughing at?” Her eyes narrow, locking onto mine with an intensity that catches me off guard. They glint with curiosity and a bit of impatience, and the corner of her lips quirk up like she’s daring me to keep laughing. She glances down at her watch, tapping the face lightly with her finger as if time itself needs a little push to keep moving. “Three minutes and forty seconds. Thirty-nine…”
I can’t help but smirk at her precision. Typical Violet, always counting down like every second matters. But right now, something wild is boiling up inside me, a thought so ridiculous I can barely believe I’m actually considering it.
“Okay, just hear me out,” I say, my voice shaky as I run a hand through my hair. I can’t believe I’m about to say this—hell, maybe I’ve lost my mind—but I’ve got to get the words out before I chicken out. “What if... we get married?”
The words hang in the air between us, ridiculous and bold, like a challenge I’ve just thrown at her feet. I swear, her expression flickers for just a second. Confusion. Disbelief. But then her eyes settle back into that steady gaze, piercing and unblinking. I feel my stomach twist into knots.
What the hell am I doing?
Her lips part slightly, like she’s about to say something, but for a moment, there’s just silence. The wind kicks up dust around us, and her peach-colored hat tilts ever so slightly on her head. I can see the gears turning in her mind, calculating, trying to make sense of the absolute madness I’ve just thrown at her. And I have no idea how she’s going to respond.
She blinks, and then just starts laughing. Like I’ve just said the biggest joke on the planet. She keeps laughing as I cross my arms over my chest.
“I’m not kidding,” I tell her.
“Why would we get married?”
“You need a husband,” I remind her of her father’s will, and how the lawyers say she needs to find a husband before her thirtieth birthday.
She stops laughing, her eyes focusing on mine. “What do you get out of it? Pussy?”
I’m shocked by the word she’s just said. “You think I’m doing all this for a hookup?” I pace the dusty floor of the stalls. “I can find pussy just fine on my own.”