Unfortunately Yours: A Novel (Vine Mess Book 2)

August rolled out of bed with a smile on his face.

It took every ounce of strength in his body to ignore the impulse to whistle while pulling on his drawers. Damn. Now that was how two people kicked off a marriage. An oral sex competition where there were no losers.

The sun hadn’t yet risen in the sky, but he was an early bird out of practice. He’d throw some eggs down his gullet, catch a workout behind the barn, and get started on production. But first he stopped at the foot of the bed and admired the view. Watching people sleep was creepy as hell. No one would blame him for stopping to check out his own wife’s ass, though, right? It was in plain view. No panties or anything.

“What am I? A monk?” he muttered under his breath, turning at the door for one final, prolonged peek before closing it behind him and heading into the kitchen. As quietly as possible, he poured himself a glass of orange juice and scrambled up five eggs, eating them in as many bites. He paused in the act of chewing, his lips twitching when a snore reached him from the bedroom. He didn’t remember any snoring from last night. Then again, he’d been passed out cold after the best blow job of his entire life.

Natalie snored. Good. They’d drown each other out.

He’d once been told by his teammates that he sounded like a grizzly with a cold.

With a smile on his face, August set his egg bowl in the sink and rinsed out the empty glass that had held his orange juice. He high-fived himself and slipped into the front yard, locking the door and testing it twice, now that he had a woman to protect. Stretching an arm across his chest to loosen up the muscle, he strode toward his makeshift workout area, reaching into the barn to flip on the rear light.

Then he got to work on the pullup bar.

Day one as a married man.

Their sexual chemistry was fire. More than life itself, he wanted to go crawl back into that bed with Natalie and kiss her awake. Get between those legs and work himself into a sweat giving her orgasms. Now that was the exercise he really wanted. But something wouldn’t let him take it all the way with Natalie yet. Not until they got on the same page. He wasn’t sure how he would feel if they had sex and she still carried on like their marriage was a sham.

Wrong. He knew exactly how he would feel.

Devastated.

No further proof necessary that he was falling deeper and deeper in love with his wife. That damn bow-wielding cherub had lodged a double arrow in the dead center of his chest. Either it was going to pierce his heart and kill him or give him a new reason to live.

You’re already living for her and you know it.

August dropped down from the pullup bar with a gulp and trod across the flattened grass to his squat rack, which he’d bought off the local gym when they upgraded their equipment. He ducked his head underneath and braced the heavy bar across his shoulders, stepping back and kicking off a round of squats.

He and Natalie couldn’t be that far from reaching common ground, could they?

She’d slept with her back plastered to his chest, thigh to thigh. They might have a lot of shit to work out between them before the marriage was solid—or “real” or whatever—but she was comfortable with him, right? At the very least, she trusted him in her sleep.

Man. He really wanted full trust from her when she was awake, too.

Wanted it with a fierce pain in his stomach.

What was holding her back?

His mission was to figure that out and eliminate whatever it was.

August had just returned the squat bar to the rack when his phone rang. Frowning over who would call him this early, he slipped his phone out of his back pocket, his shoulders tensing slightly at his CO’s name on the screen.

“Sir,” he answered briskly, his spine straightening out of habit. “Good morning, sir.”

“Cates. I’m sorry to call the morning after your wedding. I’m sure you’re busy.”

If only. August mentally sighed, flicking a look at his bedroom window. Who would know if he just crept over to the window and took one more quick look at that butt?

“It’s no problem, sir.”

“I’m calling because the transfer of funds is coming in today. Two hundred thousand.” He paused to clear his throat. “I’ve made the investment in Sam’s name.”

A cord pulled in August’s sternum. “That’s . . .” Shit. It hurt to breathe. “You knew him a lot longer than me, of course, but I think . . . I know this would mean a lot to him, sir.”

“I might have known him longer, but unfortunately, I don’t think I knew him better. This dream of a vineyard was something I never understood. Or tried to understand, I suppose.” The stilted nature of the CO’s words made it clear that the admission was difficult. Hell, having a personal discussion at all wasn’t really the man’s style, let alone one involving an emotional topic like his son. “Maybe this is my way of remedying that. After the fact.”

August tilted his head back and breathed deeply. “I’m going to do my best with the money, sir. I’m not great at this. Not like Sam would have been. But I’m going to try and do you both proud.”

“Don’t try, Cates. Just do it.”

Determination hardened his muscles. “Yes, sir.”

The CO hung up. For long moments, August remained in place with the phone still pressed to his ear. Don’t try, Cates. Just do it.

Yes, that was exactly what he would do. Stop fucking around and create a lasting legacy in Sam’s name. Sam’s honor. Didn’t his friend deserve that? This was up to him. There was no one else who could make this dream happen. No one else who would dedicate the time. This dream was on his shoulders and he needed to focus harder. Make it a reality.

The front door of the house opened and there was Natalie, framed in the doorway. Hair tangled all around her head, his sheet wrapped around her body like a toga. She squinted at him across the misty yard. “I’m having the weirdest dream.” She yawned. “I got up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night and you were working out.”

“This isn’t a dream.” August flexed his biceps. “You’re really married to this.”

“No.” She rubbed at her eyes and affection stuck in his belly like a spear. “It’s still dark out.”

“It’s five o’clock in the morning, give or take a few minutes.” He sauntered toward her across the lawn, guilt kicking around in his stomach over the phone call he’d just taken. “This is when I get up.”

“Oh.” Another yawn, bigger this time. “In that case, I want a divorce.”

“Sorry, I won’t sign.”

Her smile was sweet and sleepy. “Arsenic poisoning it is.”

“You’d have to know how to cook something in order to poison me, princess.”

That one might have zinged a little too sharply, based on her flushed cheeks. He was on the verge of apologizing when she said, “I can’t believe I slept with you.”

“We haven’t slept together yet. When we do, you’ll know it.”

Why. Why couldn’t he stop antagonizing her? His brain was trying to reach down and clap its hands over his dumbass mouth, but obviously its arms weren’t long enough and it couldn’t reach. “Then I guess I’ll never know it,” she said, shrugging. A beat passed and she looked down at the phone, still in his right hand. “Did I hear you talking to someone?”

“No.”

Fuck.

His stomach sent a wave of acid up toward his mouth.

His mind gave him a clear road map toward fixing the lie immediately. All it would require is telling her about the investment from his CO.

Easy.

Sure.

He’d just tell Natalie he’d gone through with the marriage because of his feelings for her. That he loved her and was powerless to do anything but help her succeed. Not because of her family’s influence with the local loan officer. She’d be totally fine with that and wouldn’t kick his nut sack at all.

A pause lingered between them, a line popping up between her brows. She took a final look at the phone—he’d lied and she knew it.

Fix it before you cross the line of no return.

Having her suspicious of him was worse than weathering a little anger, right?

“Natalie, I have to tell—”

“I’m going to New York,” she blurted. “In five days.”

“What?”

Without answering, she turned and slammed the door, leaving him panting out in the cold, his breath forming clouds of condensation around his face. Did that just happen? What was happening? He’d been eating her out less than six fucking hours ago. Now apparently he wasn’t the only thing going south. Their short-lived, unspoken truce was joining him.

“Natalie,” he growled through his teeth, storming into the house behind her. Just in time to watch her disappear into her bedroom, the white sheet trailing behind her on the ground. The cat pounced on the dragging linen, wrestling with it briefly before shooting off into the darkness. “Come back here.”

He tried the handle, expecting to find it locked, and he wasn’t disappointed.

“Open the door.”

“Why?” she called through the heavy wood.

“You can’t just drop a bomb like ‘I’m going to New York’ and strut away.”

“Oh, I’m the one who struts, bicep flexer?”

“That’s fair.” He laid his hands flat on the door, willing it to dissolve. “I’m sorry for implying that you don’t know how to cook.”

“I don’t,” he thought he heard her say, very quietly.

And that tiny admission set his throat on fire. “Natalie, please. I just want to talk.”

No response.

She’s not angry about the cooking joke, fuckwit. She’s locked you out because you lied and she’s more than smart enough to see through it. “I was on the phone with my CO.” August scrambled to open the call log, got down on his knees, and slid his phone under her door. “We’re both early risers.”

The longer the silence stretched, the more he wanted to bang his head against the door. But finally, there was a low creak of the floorboards in the bedroom, a shifting of shadows. He exhaled inaudibly and closed his eyes, the pressure ebbing slightly from his chest. He needed to tell her the rest. Confess why his CO had called. But he needed to clear up one thing first.

“Did you think I was on the phone with another woman or something?”

That would be the day. Other women might as well be invisible since he’d met this one.

“No,” she said right away, and he relaxed his shoulders. “I didn’t think that.”

He dropped his forehead against the door. “Good.”

“Although technically . . . we’re only married on paper. I-I guess you’re allowed, right?”

His shoulders bunched right back up, accompanied by a sharp twist of denial in his middle. “Wrong. There’s only you for me.” God, saying that out loud was like free falling and landing on a cloud. “And there’s only me for you.”

“Until this is over.”

“Right,” he said, grinding his jaw. “Please open the door.”

Seconds passed. “I’d rather not.”

August inhaled slowly through his nose, then let it back out. “Babe.”

Was that her breath catching? “Is that a code word now or something?”

“Yeah. It is. Because we probably both think it’s a stupid endearment, am I right?”

She hummed in the affirmative.

“So if I’m willing to humble myself enough to say it, I’m serious. And vice versa.” A heavy beat passed. “Babe.”

“Oh, for crying out loud,” she grumbled, opening the door and thrusting his phone out at him, which caused her to nearly drop the sheet keeping her modest. She gathered it back up with hasty movements, but he wasn’t really registering anything but the paleness of her face. Something had changed. She wasn’t as comfortable with him as she was before. Even if she was trying to pull together a casual air. “Look, I overreacted.” She pushed five slender fingers through her hair. “Morrison used to be secretive, and I guess it’s a sore spot. We were hired by the firm at the same time, so we were in competition a lot in the beginning. It never really went away. He liked to compare portfolios, but only when he was ahead. When his numbers were down, he hid it. Hid money. Insisted on keeping separate finances. Anyway . . . it’s not important.”

The floor had turned into quicksand, and he was sinking. Some of this sounded sickeningly familiar. “It sounds important.”

“Maybe it is. Yeah.” She thought for a few seconds. “My father has been holding money over my head, too. Maybe I do think it’s a red flag when people use money as a weapon. Or hide their financial status. What else are they hiding, you know? I just think being up front is a sign of good character.” She waved a hand. “Like I said, I totally overreacted. You were just having a phone call.”

His stomach felt like a tomato that had been left out in the sun for a week. Holy shit. Natalie’s ex had played mind games with money. Her father continued to do the same. Now he was hiding a two-hundred-thousand-dollar chunk of green from her? Also known as the supposed reason he was marrying her in the first place. She’d gotten married based on how he’d represented himself—a winemaker who’d run out of capital.

That hadn’t been true for nearly a week.

Prior to their whole-ass wedding.

What would she do if he told her the truth now? Nothing good. She was already threatening to fly three thousand miles away and he hadn’t even confessed yet.

“What’s this bullshit about you going to New York?”

“There’s an investor who is willing to meet with me.”

August reared back slightly, taking note of the way she held that sheet like a shield and hating it. “Why do you need an investor when your trust fund is being released?”

“My trust fund is a good start, but additional funds could make us more viable from the jump. A notable investor would make us competitive and attract more of them.”

“So six days after our wedding, you’re going to bail. How’s that going to look?”

He didn’t give two craps about how things looked, but he was willing to say just about anything to prevent her from leaving St. Helena when they weren’t yet on solid ground.

“I’ll only go for one night. No one will notice I’m gone.”

“I will.”

Lips parting, she searched his face. “Right. I’m sure you want to get the ball rolling with the small business loan. I’ll call on Monday morning and set up a meeting.”

“No,” he said too quickly, clearing his throat. Hand me a shovel so I can dig myself deeper and deeper. What else could he do but keep his true reasons for marrying her to himself? It was more than obvious she was about a hundred steps behind him in the love department, not even close to drawing even. The truth might knock her off the track completely. “I mean, we’re having dinner with Meyer at your mother’s on Monday night. I can set it up then.”

She took in that information with a deep breath and nodded. Wet her lips. “Okay. That works, too.”

His heart pounded, his arms aching to wrap around her. There was definitely still some new distance between them that he disliked immensely, but their connection was stronger than when she’d opened the door. Right?

He had to test that theory. Or he wouldn’t relax for a single second. He’d be in turmoil.

Propping his forearm on the door, he leaned down very slowly, bringing his mouth within an inch of hers. Turning his head slightly, he nuzzled her nose, brushing their lips together in a way that made them both breathe faster.

“Don’t go to New York, princess.”

Natalie turned her head and their mouths slanted hard over each other, lips opening and seeking, tongues delving. Just once. And then she pulled away, leaving his body hard and his breath coming in harsh pants.

“See you in the real morning, August.”

The door slammed. Again. And he couldn’t help but worry that an emotional one had been locked between them, too.