Unfortunately Yours: A Novel (Vine Mess Book 2)

It is a universal truth that people don’t make the best decisions while drinking alcohol. In fact, people came to places like this with the express intention of making questionable decisions. To stop being responsible for a while and let fate stir the pot. Case in point, axe throwing in a bar. As a man who’d undergone extensive weapons training and knew how shit could go wrong in the blink of an eye, he wanted to carry Natalie out of there over his shoulder. The fact that she was anywhere near several blades was unsettling him to a degree that couldn’t be ignored.

The increasing protectiveness he felt for his fiancé told August . . .

This wasn’t temporary.

They weren’t.

Sorry, princess. Sucks to be you.

This woman standing in front of him was his destiny. Part of him had known it the night they met, when she’d made him laugh and made him horny in the same breath. Jesus, she looked beautiful tonight with all that dark, smudgy makeup around her eyes and her hair . . . it kind of looked like sex hair. Like she’d been rolling around in the sheets. Was that intentional? Fuck. He would give up watching baseball for a decade to sink a fist into it right now. Move her head right to left, tug it back so he could get a look at that mouth up close.

Don’t get me started on her legs.

If someone brandished an axe within ten yards of those pins, he’d throw them out of this place through the plate glass window. And her face. Man, he loved looking at those kaleidoscopic features as they brightened and dimmed and shifted. They were the reason he’d gotten severely off track.

Bottom line, he knew in his bones that in fifty years, he’d still want to look at her face.

Pretty sure he’d be starved for the opportunity.

He was protective by nature—and by trade—but the way he felt about Natalie’s safety was on a whole other level. It wasn’t just her physical safety he seemed to worry about at all times, it was the safety of her feelings. Her heart. I’m responsible. But just like any operation, he needed to get in there and find out what he was dealing with. He needed intel.

That was where their path from temporary to permanent needed to start.

And if Natalie knew he’d taken the loan from his CO and was marrying her purely because he wanted her to achieve her goals—and fine, because he couldn’t stand the thought of never seeing her again—she’d stab him to death.

So he’d just leave that a secret for now. At least until she stopped hating him.

Love means letting go of your pride, after all.

Those words circled around and around his head. Was he ready to stop trying to win their ongoing battle of wills? Maybe not completely. Totally letting his guard down around Natalie might lead to his balls being amputated. He could damn well begin making inroads, though.

“August.” She waved her hand in front of his face. “Battle of the sexes. The wager.”

“Wager. Right.”

If the men win, you agree to grow old with me.

Too much.

“If the men win, you tell me what happened in New York.”

Also too much, but his big trap had already released the challenge—and damn, he really did want to know what had driven her back to Napa. If he was being forced to pry the information out of her, it couldn’t be good.

Natalie’s expression had grown shuttered on the heels of his throwing down the gauntlet, but almost immediately, she straightened her shoulders and pinned him with a look. “Fine. And if I win, you have to let me help you with your wine production.”

Oh boy. No way.

Natalie had teased him so brutally about his shit winemaking, allowing her into the inner sanctum of his production line would make him feel like an exposed wound. “Do you actually want to help or are you just trying to one-up me?”

She pursed her lips, pretending to consider it. “Both.”

Let her help. What’s the big deal?

Making the wine was supposed to be his gift to Sam. Not just a gift, though . . . more of an atonement for letting him die. It was August’s penance to serve and he was protective of the job. It was his work to do. His amends to make. No one else’s.

“Pick something else. Anything else.”

Instead of being exasperated by his stubbornness, she seemed kind of fascinated by it. “Um . . . okay, fine. For the entire month that we’re married, you’re not allowed to complain about how long I take to do my makeup.”

“Done.” Thank God she hadn’t made an issue about the wine thing. He didn’t want to explain out loud why he was so defensive about the operation. “But we kiss to seal the wager.”

“You can’t just make up rules as you go, rat king. A handshake seals it.”

He scoffed into his beer. “Someone’s scared.”

“Oh, I’m scared?” Speaking of pride. “Pretty sure I’m the one who climbed into that shower. Or did you forget?”

Tits.

Beautiful, beautiful tits.

“Princess, that is a core memory. It’ll be with me in the fucking afterlife.”

She tossed her sex hair. “Good.” So flippant. Except he caught her blush.

Did she like knowing he’d remember their shower for eternity?

Yeah. She did.

“Get over here and kiss me.”

She snorted, gripping the front of his shirt and pulling him down. But she hesitated before their lips could touch. Wetting hers and staring at his. “Fine.”

As if it was no big deal.

Right before their mouths met, however, she looked up at him and proved herself wrong. It was a very big deal. They kissed in the middle of the bar like they were alone. August absently set his beer onto the closest table so he could finally, blessedly, sink all ten fingers into her hair and go to fucking town on that mouth. Tongue, lips, teeth. He used everything at his disposal to make her moan while they slanted their parted mouths, sampled, took deeply. And deeper still. I’m going to figure us out, he told her with the kiss, meaning it with every breath in his body. I’m going to marry you, make this work.

When they pulled back for air, Natalie looked more than a little startled.

Hell, he was startled, too. Every time they kissed, he needed more. More of her.

She gathered air into her lungs with their lips still only inches apart. “We better stop—”

“Before I carry you into the back alley and rip those panties down again?” He dragged her bottom lip down with his thumb. “Yeah. Guess we better.”

Natalie knocked his hand aside and marched past him toward the axe-throwing booth, her gait more than a little unsteady. “W-we were just sealing the wager.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself, princess,” he drawled, picking his drink back up and following in her wake.

A few moments later, when August picked up his first axe, he didn’t even put his beer down. He looked Natalie right in the eye and threw a bull’s-eye, then drained his pint glass while she and Hallie stared at him with their jaws on the ground. “What the . . .” Natalie sputtered. “You just—”

August pointed to himself. “SEAL. Remember?” He signaled the passing waitress with his empty glass. “Word to the wise, never make a bet with one of us. Especially when weapons are involved. What were you thinking?”

“I’m thinking . . .” Natalie shrugged a jerky shoulder. “I haven’t had my turn yet.” She stepped up to the wooden, waist-high shelf that blocked the bar from the axe-throwing lane. “I could still win.”

“That’s right,” Hallie piped up, patting her on the back. “You got this, Natalie. Never underestimate beginner’s luck.”

“Or a woman with her pride on the line,” August said with a smile.

You’re doing a great job of making this relationship permanent, buddy.

“A beautiful woman,” he added quickly.

Natalie looked at him like he’d lost his marbles. Maybe he had.

After all, he was needling her while she was holding a sharp object.

As August watched, staring at her ass for only a few well-worth-it seconds, Natalie picked up the axe and sank it straight into the red bull’s-eye. And she lit up. Her mouth fell open, light flooding her eyes. She gasped, hands flying up to her mouth. Like a woman did during a proposal. Like she might have done if he hadn’t turned his proposal into a giant joke.

Dammit.

Swear to God, the whole bar blurred around them as she celebrated.

Jump into my arms. Do it. Please do it.

Spoiler: she did not.

She gave him a prim sniff and took her place off to the side, way too far from him. “Can you please come over here, Natalie?” he said.

“Why?”

“People are throwing axes in here.”

“Way to recognize the theme.” She waved him off. “I’m fine.”

“Please? I’d like to be close enough to step in front of you if necessary.”

Her features momentarily softened and she eventually rolled her eyes and sauntered over, nestling in beside him out of necessity, thanks to the bar being so crowded, especially in the throwing zone. Whistling casually, he let his arm creep up and settle onto her shoulders, earning him a pointed look, but thankfully she didn’t try to pull away. They stood like a real-life, honest-to-God couple while Hallie took her turn—a throw that nearly ended up in the ceiling—and then Julian, whose throw landed in the ring just outside the bull’s-eye. That lack of perfection really seemed to annoy him.

“We can’t all be a hero on the first toss,” August said, slapping the professor on the shoulder.

“There are different kinds of heroes,” remarked Natalie, drawing his attention.

“Meaning?”

She looked like she wanted to take back her comment. Both Julian and Hallie appeared to be surprised, too, by the statement. Possibly even a little uncomfortable about it? “Meaning . . .” Natalie’s throat worked. “My brother. He . . . rescued me from the fire.” She laughed, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Didn’t I tell you that?”

August was having a hard time hearing over the squeal of tires in his brain. “What fire?”

“Stop shouting,” Natalie whispered, nudging him in the ribs with her elbow.

Was he shouting? “What fire?” he said again, sounding strangled. Feeling strangled.

Everyone remained silent for long moments. Julian became fascinated by the axe-throwing rules posted on the wall, crossing his arms and observing them as if they were a painting in a museum. “Four years ago,” Hallie said finally, quietly. “The fire that went through Napa? It did a lot of damage to Vos Vineyard. Julian and Natalie were home for the harvest when it happened, and they were able to help evacuate their parents, staff, and as much equipment as possible, but Natalie got trapped in—”

“Okay. Whoa whoa whoa.” August was beginning to sweat. “Natalie? Trapped?”

“Are you all right?” asked the woman in question.

“Yeah.” Nope. Not at all. “Where did you get trapped?”

“Hallie was trying to tell you,” Natalie pointed out.

“It was a lot of information at once.” He swiped at his forehead with the hem of his T-shirt. And his pulse was racing too fast to enjoy the fact that Natalie bit her lip hard at the flash of his stomach. “I’m ready for the rest now.” I’ll never be ready for the rest.

It didn’t escape August’s notice that Julian was no longer reading the rules, but watching him very closely instead. Who could blame the guy? August was rapidly losing his cool. Because Natalie had been in danger from a fire four years ago. Really? A fucking fire? He hadn’t even been in the country four years ago. Not close enough to do anything. Thousands of miles away.

“The fire approached much quicker than anticipated. Hours faster than they told us it would.” A groove sat between Julian’s dark brows. “She got caught in the shed while transporting equipment back and forth to the truck. There’s only one entrance and it was blocked by the flames.”

“But Julian got there in time. He ran in, covered my face, and hustled me out.” August didn’t realize how stiff he’d turned until Natalie shoved him a little and he almost pitched sideways like a toppling statue. “And it’s a good thing, too, because I’m alive tonight, in this bar, to kick your ass in axe throwing.”

Hallie whooped and held up a glass of wine. “I know that’s right.”

“Your turn, August,” Julian prompted. Was he smirking?

August couldn’t even feel the axe in his hand when he picked it up. He turned it over a few times, looked down, and found it shaking. Damn. “Uh, does someone else want to take a turn?”

“Turns must go in order,” Julian said, pointing at the rule sheet.

Having no choice, August made sure no one was standing too close, then threw the weapon—watching with a sour stomach as it landed in the outer ring. No one said anything when he stepped back and gestured for Natalie to take her turn. She looked at him curiously on her way up to the barrier, picking up the handle of her blade. This time, she caught the middle ring, followed by Hallie doing the same. Julian got a bull’s-eye. They were all talking and planning the next round, but August couldn’t concentrate on what was being said. All he could see was Natalie trapped and scared, and he needed to get some air. Now.

“I’ll be right back.” August tried to smile but was pretty sure he just looked ready to hurl. “Just stepping outside for a minute.”

“Hey.” Before he could take a step, Natalie reached out and caught his wrist. “You’re not mad because you lost the wager, are you?”

“What wager?”

She blinked. “Come on, let’s go.” She pulled him through the crowd toward the door. “You’re having a mental breakdown. Either that or you just realized you gave up the chance to ridicule me over a thirty-minute makeup routine, so you’re faking amnesia.”

Christ, he needed to pull himself together. “I remember.” They stepped into the crisp evening, onto the empty sidewalk outside Jed’s, the last remnants of the earlier sunset giving the air a purplish glow. Or maybe he really was just having a mental break. Could air taste purple? “But I was kind of counting on winning.”

“What happened?” Natalie asked.

“I’m not very good at feeling helpless. That’s how I felt hearing that story.” He looked her over, head to toe, barely resisting the urge to reach out and run his hands all over her skin. “You’re okay? You didn’t get burned anywhere?”

Her mouth opened and closed, her stance shifting side to side. “No. It was really scary, but beyond the fact that I triple-check my smoke detectors now, I’m fine.”

“Good.” A beat passed. “How can you doubt your brother loves you when he ran into a burning shed to save you?” August said it without thinking, raking a still unsteady hand down his face. God, he really needed to thank Julian for what he’d done. He would.

Soon as he got back inside.

In fact, he was going to ask him to be his best man.

“It’s . . . his nature. He always does the right thing.” Natalie’s cheeks were deepening with color. “It gave him a terrible panic attack afterward. He’s had this anxiety since we were kids and I made it worse because I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Yeah, Natalie. So inconsiderate of you. Next time, try to predict the fire.”

“Wow. Nice. Using logic to make me feel better. That’s low.” Her lips twitched slightly to let him know she was joking and his fucking heart just sort of wrapped itself in a bow for her. “I spent a lot of time thinking he blamed me for his episode after the fire. But he . . . doesn’t. He told me he doesn’t. We’re a lot better now that we’ve spent some time together.”

“But?”

Her chin lifted. “How do you know there’s a but?”

“Nat-tuition.”

Lips twitching, she sized him up for a couple of seconds. “We all go it alone in this family. But they . . . were all ready to go it alone long before I was. Now Julian and my mother are getting closer and I’m the independent one. I’m kind of like, hey, remember everyone telling me to get my shit together and go stand on my own two feet? Well, I did. And no one . . . cared or noticed. Now I’m supposed to make this big effort to reconnect? No. I found what I was looking for somewhere else. For a while. And I just want to get it back.”

“In New York.”

“Yes, hence our impending nuptials.” She seemed jumpy. “Can we go back inside now?”

“No.” He took a step in her direction and tilted his head, seeing her through fresh eyes. Still as tough as ever, but wounded. Patch it up. That’s what he wanted to do, but he had no idea how. “They should have noticed. You should always be noticed.”

That caught her off guard and she fumbled through a thank-you.

“It’s a hell of a balance, wanting your family to be proud while also keeping them at a distance so you can be your own person.” What he wanted to say next felt too personal. It was about his best friend and his knee-jerk reaction was to keep it to himself. Still, he forced the words out, even though they felt like they were traveling through barbed wire in his throat. “Sam struggled with that a lot—having his father as a commanding officer. They cut off the father-son part of their relationship out of necessity. So there would be no distracting emotions in the mix—those can get a man killed in our line of work, you know? But when they had some down time and wanted to reconnect, it wasn’t so easy. Probably because they’d seen how smoothly each could . . . detach, you know?”

“Yeah,” she breathed. “That’s exactly right.”

Holy shit, was he on to something? Did he have the potential to actually help simply by being honest? The barbed wire was still there, along with the desire to hold all of his Sam memories close, but he was determined to make Natalie feel better. If opening up a little about Sam, at least for tonight, was how he accomplished that, he’d do the hard thing. “That’s why Sam and I were so close. He stayed with my family on holidays. My mom sent him birthday cards with twenty-dollar bills tucked inside. My dad took him fishing, even when I wasn’t around. We were brothers.”

Emotion shone in her eyes. “Were you surprised to see his father the other day?”

“That’s putting it mildly.” The scar tissue on the back of his shoulder throbbed. “I retired early from the team after we lost Sam. I just couldn’t operate the same.” Not after what I let happen on my watch. “The CO and I didn’t part on bad terms, but it was . . . I don’t know. It was like he didn’t welcome me doing something so drastic over Sam when he was just planning on staying in the exact same place. Does that make sense?”

He appreciated the way she thought it over for a moment. Then, “Yes. It does.”

“Mostly, I wish Sam were here to see how much his dad cared all along. I wish he were here for . . .” Momentarily unable to speak, August gestured between them.

“For the wedding.”

August cleared his throat hard. “Yeah.”

The evening hummed around them, the buzz coming from inside making the sidewalk seem all the more silent. Intimate. He couldn’t read Natalie’s expression, but he thought there might be a touch of wonder in it for some reason. And then, “I got forced out of my hedge fund in New York,” she blurted. “For making a seriously bad trade that lost the company a lot of money. Like enough to buy three private islands and still throw a party. Lost a lot of respect in the process. I was the youngest partner. The only woman. But overnight, I became a liability and they fired me. My fiancé broke off our engagement because I no longer fit into our world.” She lifted a shoulder and let it drop. “That’s what happened in New York.”

Damn. He couldn’t imagine this woman making a mistake painting her fingernails, let alone one that cost a bunch of suits their mansion funds. And even more pressing, what man in his right goddamn mind would let Natalie Vos get away?

He wanted to shout a bunch of words—“that spineless motherfucker” chief among them—but this was a vulnerable moment for her. Even he could recognize it wasn’t a time for threats and anger, despite the fact that he sorely wanted to let loose on the wrongs done to her. Still, he reined in the burst of adrenaline and kept his voice steady as possible.

“If he bailed that quickly, Natalie, he never had enough integrity to deserve you in the first place.” He kept his expression serious. “Thank God you found me.”

Her lips sort of quivered up into a smile.

August smiled back.

And he wasn’t entirely certain, but he was pretty sure they’d made some headway tonight. Not to mention, he’d learned something. When he shared things with Natalie, she shared back. He needed to remember that, because he wanted to know everything going on in her head. Wanted that badly. For now, he was going to bask in the glow of progress with a woman who’d once called him a walking sewage plant.

“Should we celebrate this meaningful conversation with a kiss? Maybe some light petting?” He held up his hands, palms out. “Or heavy petting. I’m down either way—”

She was already walking past him with an eye roll. “Just when I thought you might be capable of basic discourse.”

Coming up behind her, he blew a raspberry into her neck. “Told you I’d never let you down.”

She swatted him away. “Your interpretation of letting someone down is ass backward.”

“Ass backward sounds even better than heavy petting,” he said, waggling his brows. “Where do I sign up?”

“Right here,” she sang, flipping him the bird.

“Uh-huh.” He winked. “I remember how much you love a nice middle finger.”

Natalie’s groan mingled with August’s booming laugh on their way back into the bar.