Violet Promises (Oil Dukes)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Violet

One of the happiest days of my sister’s life was just another crap day in mine.

I turned off the highway down the dirt road to the small farmhouse that was my destination, but I pulled to a stop by the ditch, the tall grasses brushing against the bottom of the car.

My stomach roiled. I sucked in a deep breath and let it out. I could control my body’s reactions. I wasn’t going to puke on the side of the road. The wild roses in the ditch wouldn’t be covered with my ick.

My second fortifying breath was interrupted by the buzzing of my phone. I blew out the calming air with a frustrated growl.

My ex’s name scrawled across the display in my car. Willis Hanson. What now?

Don’t answer .

I didn’t need this right now.

Don’t answer.

Fatigue hung over my head and shoulders, and I just wanted to nap. I’d need a nap to talk to Willis. Would a logical approach work for him? When he wasn’t irritated, he was more reasonable. But he was always needy. Somehow, that hadn’t changed in the three months since we’d broken up. It was my punishment for being unhappy with him.

I scrubbed my face. No, I wouldn’t answer. He’d phone again. Or text.

Willis was having trouble moving on. I’d left him bereft when he’d thought our future was together. If only he had acted like it. If only he’d understood that I expected equality in our future. A partnership. If only he’d been the man he had told me he was.

Now I was alone, driving to meet with some guy who had no idea I’d be showing up. I had left Willis. I had left my job. I had left California.

My life was like the road. I sort of knew the destination, but everything about getting there had changed. All thanks to a couple of impulsive, un-Violet-like decisions. The first had been the breakup.

After a few months of living with my parents in Billings, Montana, I had yet to find a job and an affordable place to rent. To distract myself, I had visited my littlest sister. Seeing Lily find love, real love, and then witnessing how my new brother-in-law, Eliot, treated her, I saw my life through a new lens. The lovesick look in my brother-in-law’s eyes? I wanted that—from a real partner.

It had to be why I’d made impulsive decision number two.

During that visit with Lily and Eliot, I’d met a stranger and had the best sex of my life. I couldn’t return to California or Willis after that. It would’ve felt like too much of a betrayal, though to me or to him, I wasn’t sure. I just knew I was no longer the same Violet who could pretend to be happy among Willis’s pretentious friend group.

I was Violet Duke. The girl who wanted to forge a new path.

I was also Violet Duke, with the rapidly dwindling funds because, holy heck, how did anyone live off one income nowadays?

First, I needed a job and a place to live. I loved this little town of Coal Haven in the center of North Dakota. It was very un-California, with a whole lot fewer Willises. Lily lived less than ten miles away, and I had job options—hopefully. I just had to secure the place to live. Which was the task at hand.

I pulled back onto the road. My stomach would have to settle until this trip was over.

My grandma hadn’t left me ugly jewelry when she died like Willis’s grandmother had done. Nor had she bequeathed any money. Technically, she had left me a house and land. There were stipulations with the inheritance I didn’t want to think about. Rules for how I’d get the property that could come in really damn handy right now.

I couldn’t get my hands on the house because of those bizarre clauses, but I’d never backed down from a challenge. Lily had secured her inheritance. I could too. Aside from the stipulations my grandma might’ve thought were romantic, there was a renter in the place. A guy. No wife. No kids. No idea how long he planned to rent the place .

Aunt Linda was the executor. She rented the properties until we qualified to receive them, and she seemed staunchly supportive and weirdly timid about the renter. He’s quiet, Violet. He’s been fixing up the place on his own dime, and he always pays on time. I didn’t understand her hesitation before she said He’s a Barron .

The Barrons had a lot of land in Coal Haven, about ten miles from Crocus Valley, where Lily lived. Much of the property Grandma Annie Duke had left behind, including mine, was located in Coal Haven.

I remembered some of the Barrons. My family had lived in Coal Haven when I was a kid, before my parents moved me and my five siblings to Billings. The Barrons were a large family with lots of cousins close to my age. One had been in my class, but many of them were older. Aunt Linda wouldn’t tell me much, only asked if I was married and ready to move into the house yet.

No .

If she wouldn’t share what she knew of the renter or his plans, it was up to me.

I’d go to a house I hadn’t been to for years, a place I’d done little more than ride by on horseback with my siblings when we were visiting our grandparents, and I’d talk to a man I had never met, in the middle of nowhere.

My sisters said I was the level-headed one. They’d have opinions if I told them my plan.

I had to do it. Just in case this mystery Barron said he was moving out tomorrow. If he wasn’t, then I’d insinuate that he needed to move. Soon. Then I’d find a guy to marry me. Since Willis had dragged his feet for years.

It was now or never. My sister’s anniversary party had been a good enough excuse to come to Coal Haven. I didn’t know when another opportunity would arrive, and I still had a long drive to Billings.

I put the car into gear, and within minutes, the place came into view. A rectangular, two-story farmhouse that was strong but also weathered. Very, very rustic.

The landscape around it was some of the most beautiful I’d ever seen, but then I was biased. I missed my time in Coal Haven. I hadn’t wanted to move when my parents broke the news that we’d be leaving.

Rolling green hills were broken up by small copses of trees and bushes. The occasional butte jutted proudly in the midst of the countryside, squat with a squared-off top. Every so often, the wink of blue from lakes or stock ponds popped against the green.

My stomach didn’t find the scenery as calming. I pressed a hand against my belly. When would this feeling go away?

There was a big, beat-up silver pickup in the driveway.

Was this a really bad idea?

Of course it was, but I had to know. I had to know what to plan for.

I parked behind the pickup. It’d be easy enough to jump in the car and back out if things went south. My car wouldn’t be blocked in.

This would be fine. The renter would be a nice guy. Even better, he’d tell me that he’d like to cut his lease early and I was solving a problem for him. He’d move immediately, and I’d have a place I could afford.

Right. Yes. Let’s do this.

I got out and faced what could be an adorable porch with a little sanding and a fresh coat of stain. A few of the slats in the railing needed to be replaced, but the way it wrapped around the house would capture both the sunrise and the sunset. The front door was more inviting than the side entrance. Both were weathered, with screen doors that had a multitude of holes in the screens.

The steps creaked as I crested them. Those should get repaired.

The list of tasks added up in my mind, both in time and money. The wood siding was more than eroded. It was warped in some areas and should be replaced with a more modern, sturdier type. All the windows were old. The roof needed new shingles. What was left of my retirement would not go far. All I needed was for it to get me through to gainful employment and hopefully the winter. Because right smack in the middle of January, I needed both time and money.

My stomach heaved. There were still the stipulations. Did I think I needed to be getting married and moving in here? Finding a guy to marry—real quick—and taking on everything when?—

The door squeaked open before I could knock.

My heart thudded behind my sternum, and I was faced with a big man. He wore wrinkled and well-used tan cargo pants over old cowboy boots, and his black T-shirt hugged a barrel of a chest. He was squinting against the sunlight, his head cocked. The gleam on his shaved head made my palms itch.

Because I knew what that stubble felt like. I knew what he looked like with every stitch of clothing off and how thick those thighs really were. I knew what he felt like thrusting inside of me for longer than I’d ever thought possible.

My gut roiled, and all the stress in the last three months of my life reached a crescendo. I opened my mouth to suck in fresh air, but words formed instead, and I shut my brain off. They had to be said. “I’m pregnant. It’s yours.”

Just as his brows drew together, I spun. I rushed to the railing and heaved all the contents of my stomach up into a patch of purple irises.