Unfortunately Yours: A Novel (Vine Mess Book 2)

Going to dinner at his mother-in-law’s house.

August never thought he’d be so excited.

He and Natalie were dressed in business casual attire as they walked out of the house together and called goodbye to the cat. August opened the car door for Natalie so she could slide into the passenger seat and balance a homemade pie on her lap. This was the kind of evening that made the marriage feel real, and goddamn, he loved it, especially since they’d been orbiting each other without touching or speaking much since yesterday.

When he’d lost it in the wine cave.

Yeah, there hadn’t been a lot of conversation since they’d spent hours clinging together outside the event barn, inhaling each other’s exhales, her heartbeat like a song that he could follow out of the darkness. There’d been a lot of staring, however. A lot of passing each other in the kitchen or on the way into the bathroom and looking. Wanting to touch.

August knew damn well Natalie was waiting for him to make a move—and believe him, not taking her to bed was unmitigated torture, but if yesterday had proven anything to him, it was that he needed Natalie to be in his life permanently. He needed to take this slice of time seriously and not get distracted by her smoking-hot, one-of-a-kind rack. He needed her for sixty years, not sixty minutes. What else was a man supposed to believe when the idea of her getting injured made every molecule in his body scream like a child who’d accidentally walked into a theater playing It?

Descending into that cave had been eerily similar to entering the hideout with Sam three years ago. The same dusty waft of decay, the silence and pitch-blackness of it all. And all he could think was I can’t lose her, too. I can’t.

It would be so satisfying to make love and forget about all the obstacles in their path to matrimonial bliss, but if he took that route, he’d wake up one day and she’d be leaving for New York. His dick would have gotten a workout, fine. But she wouldn’t be any closer to loving him back. Or believing they could go the distance.

At this rate, cheesy eighties songs were writing themselves, but who could blame him when she looked so gorgeous in his passenger seat, her left knee bouncing up and down in a nervous gesture that threatened to upend the pie.

“Hey.” He took his right hand off the steering wheel and brushed his knuckle along the outside of her knee, which turned out to be a big mistake, because Lord God almighty, she was smooth and that kneecap would fit right into his palm. Focus. “Are you nervous because Ingram Meyer is going to be there? Because we’ve got this, Natalie. By the end of the night, he’s going to be so positive that we married for love, he’s going to send us a second wedding gift. Fingers crossed on a chocolate fountain.”

She appeared to be on the verge of rolling her eyes, but cut him a sly look instead. “You know, the one from Williams Sonoma doubles as a fondue pot.”

He smacked the steering wheel. “Are we positive no one bought us one of those?”

“Hallie took our gifts home, and opened and arranged them. Not a single chocolate fountain that doubles as a cheese cauldron, but then again, I wouldn’t put it past Julian’s girlfriend to steal it for herself. She once robbed a cheese shop in broad daylight.” She nodded solemnly at his incredulous eyebrow raise. “How are you so confident we’ll convince Meyer?”

Because if that man can’t see I’d die for you, he’s blind.

“I’m great at dinner parties. Although in Kansas, we call them barbecues.”

Her laughter was kind of dazed. “Dinner with my mother in her formal dining room is far from kicking back with a cold one in someone’s backyard.”

“That bad, huh?” His stomach begged him not to ask the next question, but hell, he did it anyway. “Did you ever bring your ex-fiancé home for dinner?”

“Morrison? No.”

“Fuck yeah.” His fist pump was so involuntary, he almost punched a hole in the roof of the truck. Pull back, tiger. “I mean, I’m glad you didn’t have to go through the whole sticky process of detaching your family from the dude, as well. You know how that goes. You don’t just break up with someone, you break up with their family and friends. Such a mess.”

Natalie stared.

Any second now, she was going to call him on that fist pump and the bullshit that followed. Instead, she asked, “Do you . . . know how that goes? Have you had serious girlfriends?”

Somehow, August got the sense that this was a dangerous topic. “My father used to say that women ask questions they don’t really want answered, and it’s our job to figure out which ones are safe and which ones aren’t. And we will always be wrong.”

Natalie scoffed at that, readjusting the pie on her lap. “What are you implying? That I don’t really want to know about your past girlfriends?”

“I can relate, princess. I want to hear about this Morrison prick about as much as I want a staple gun pointed at my nuts.”

“You asked.”

“I live with a woman now. Maybe she’s rubbing off on me.”

“Whatever. Just answer the question.” She chuckled.

Oh no. That chuckle was deceiving.

Trust your gut, son.

Or was it his dick? Because his dick said to tell Natalie anything she wanted to know. Give her anything she wants without delay.

“Yeah, I had a serious girlfriend,” he said slowly. Cautiously. “One. In high school. She lived next door. Matter of fact, I think she’s still in the house beside my mom and dad.”

“What was she like?”

O-kay. Natalie was still smiling. This seemed fine. “Carol? She’s a sweet, down-home Kansas girl. Her pickles won a blue ribbon at the state fair.”

“Oh.” The smile looked a tad forced now. “Wow. She sounds like my total opposite.”

Hold up. Things were getting dicey.

“Why did you break up?”

“Natalie, are you sure that pie isn’t too hot on your lap? I can—”

“I mean, if she’s so sweet, what happened?”

“Did I say sweet?” That was just what his mother always called Carol. A sweet, down-home Kansas girl. It must have stuck. “Well. She wanted to settle down and get started on a family right away, and I wasn’t ready for that. I wanted to serve.” He recited these truths very slowly. “So she gave me back my class ring and now she’s married to the church pastor. Last time my mother updated me, they have four kids.”

“Oh.” Natalie slumped back in her seat. “And you’re happy for her?”

“Of course I am. Why?”

“It sounded like she was the one who got away.”

“No, that was my next girlfriend.” He winked at her. “Just kidding, princess.”

“You know, I’m holding a pie,” she said calmly. A few beats passed and he started to sense he wasn’t in the clear yet from the dangerous nature of this conversation. “But speaking of pie, I’m just . . . curious. You’re very good at . . . you know. Indulging in a little pie yourself. So when did all this practice occur—”

He was already shaking his head. “Natalie.”

“I’m just saying, it couldn’t have been with the pastor’s pickle-making wife.”

“This conversation ends now. I only have eyes for your pie.”

“Just tell me,” she cajoled.

“No.”

“We’re both adults!”

“Oh my God, I . . . yeah, okay. Fine. I lost my virginity when I was twenty-two. Kind of late and thirteen years ago, Natalie. The girl was a friend of a friend’s girlfriend and I can’t even remember her name, but she . . . she looked at it and said, You better learn how to make a woman stupid before you even think of bringing that thing into the mix. She showed me a few tricks and I listened. Okay? And that is the end of this conversation.”

“Are you sure you don’t remember her name?” She had the nerve to sound disappointed. “I was hoping to send her a Christmas card.”

“Very funny.” His face was on fire. “I can’t believe I told you that.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re my wife. You’re supposed to believe I’ve existed only for you since day one.” In his self-directed irritation, he’d become a loose cannon and could no longer keep himself from erupting. Maybe he was worried that his confession had put doubts in Natalie’s head or maybe he was just tired of keeping the truth to himself. But for whatever reason, he chose the moment they pulled up outside of the Vos estate to spill his guts. “And when I look at you, I swear I have. Existed just for you all this time. It feels like I have.”

She was utterly beautiful and vulnerable in that moment.

Also pale and full of terror.

Awesome.

“Are you just . . . are you method acting because we’re getting ready to fake it in front of Ingram Meyer, or—”

“Nope. I meant what I said.” It was an understatement. A massive one. But her visible fear told him to rein it in. “I have feelings for you, Natalie.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it. Glanced over his shoulder, where he could hear the front door of the house opening. Footsteps approaching. “Can we talk about this later?”

*  *  *

I have feelings for you.

Natalie walked into her childhood home trying desperately not to fumble the pie. Her fake husband had just admitted to having feelings for her. What kind of feelings? They didn’t get that far. Did he mean lust? Did he mean he cared about her? Because she’d already sort of sensed both of those things, but they weren’t supposed to speak about it out loud. That made it real. That made it something they would have to deal with.

“Do you want me to carry the pie?” August asked, resting his fingertips against the small of her back. Goose bumps sprung to life on the nape of her neck as a result, her eyelashes fluttering, thanks in part to the conversation they’d been having leading up to his confession. She’d gone from jealous to turned on faster than an upside-down roller coaster loop. Perhaps she was in the minority, but a man who listened to a woman’s advice on sex, going from pupil to master? That was unforgivably hot, no matter which way she sliced it.

Still, she wasn’t supposed to get tummy flutters over phrases like I only have eyes for your pie. Yet here she stood. Fluttering and flushed and trying to come to terms with this huge presence in her life now having feelings for her on top of everything else.

Maybe even her own feelings for him. Big, daunting ones.

“No, it’s okay,” she whispered. “I’ve got it.”

“Do you want me to carry you and the pie? Those heels look uncomfortable.”

Briefly, she glanced down. “I used to wear shoes like this every day of the week.” She used the pie to gesture at the dining room ahead, where voices could be heard, including one belonging to Ingram Meyer. “The heels make me feel more confident. I . . . need some confidence at family dinners.”

August searched her eyes, nodded—and Natalie was flooded with the strangest sense that he’d seen exactly what was going on upstairs in her noggin. “I got you, princess.”

She blinked up at him. “You’ve got me?”

“What did I say in my wedding vows? I will take your side in every argument, unless it’s with me. Were you listening or just standing there looking like a goddess?”

She was blinking very fast now. “I was listening.”

“Good.” He leaned down and nudged her forehead with his own. “I got you.”

It took Natalie a moment to realize they’d walked into the dining room together, but the extended silence finally registered. They hadn’t immediately taken their eyes off each other and now everyone—Corinne, Julian, Hallie, and Ingram—was observing them curiously. It was a slow, reluctant peeling of gazes and she felt almost delirious over being that close to his mouth without getting kissed. She watched as August finally focused on Corinne, who stood stoic at the head of the table, offering her a grin. “Hey, Ma.”

Natalie caught the ghost of a smile before Corinne rolled her eyes. “Come in. Dinner is almost ready. We’re having lamb.” She extended a hand toward the man sitting to her left, who for once didn’t have a straw hat perched on top of his head. “I’m sure you’ll remember Mr. Meyer from the wedding.”

The loan officer gave a lazy salute with his wineglass. “Lovely to see you again.”

“Likewise,” she and August said at the same time.

Corinne pointed at the pie in Natalie’s hands. “Who made that?”

“August,” Natalie said. “Obviously. Or I’d be carrying its remains in a ziplock bag.”

She only vaguely noticed August frowning down at her. Why? It was no secret she couldn’t make food to save her life. By refraining to do so, she saved everyone else’s. And hadn’t he made fun of her about her lack of kitchen skills as recently as yesterday?

Corinne remained standing until August and Natalie took side by side spots at the table, then everyone was seated.

“So,” Hallie half squealed, leaning forward. “What have you been doing together since the wedding?” Corinne coughed and Julian smiled into a sip of wine, and immediately, the curly-haired blonde jogged back the question. “I-I mean, besides . . . besides getting to know each other better a-as husband and wife . . .” She winced, obviously realizing she’d only dug the hole deeper. “I mean—”

“Well. I’ve been working on my fermentation technique,” August slipped in smoothly. “When Natalie isn’t working on her laptop, she’s been exploring the grounds. Settling in.”

That wasn’t the greatest start toward convincing the loan officer of their undying love, and August seemed to realize it right away. He reached for her hand under the table, where no one could see, and squeezed it, appearing trapped in his thoughts.

Meanwhile, Ingram Meyer swirled the ruby-red contents of his glass. “Natalie is technically an employee now at Zelnick Cellar, is she not? With her vast array of winemaking knowledge, she must be a huge help to you.”

There was a wrenching sensation below Natalie’s collarbone and she reached for her water. A huge help? Not likely. He wouldn’t even let her in the door. August watched her sip water with a deep groove between his brows, then visibly shook himself into answering. “She . . . yes, she’s got a lot of knowledge to offer. I’m very lucky.”

“I’m sure she’s going to be more of a help on the administrative end of things,” Corinne tacked on without missing a beat. Two women hustled out from the kitchen and started forking salad onto one of the smaller plates in each setting. Corinne said something to one of them, then redirected her attention to Ingram. “My daughter has a head for numbers, and I’m sure that will be a major advantage for Zelnick Cellar. As far as the production side, her company title will likely run along the lines of official taste tester.”

Natalie had just forked up a bite of salad, but paused while everyone chuckled at Corinne’s jest, though she noticed that August didn’t laugh. At all. “It’s true. I know how to stay in my lane. Especially if it’s the checkout lane at the wine store.” More laughs. But none from August. “Zelnick Cellar might give Vos some stiff competition in a few years.”

Corinne raised an eyebrow at August. “Wouldn’t that be something?”

“It sure would,” Ingram agreed. “I’m sure a small business loan would go a long way toward making that future a reality.”

Corinne gave Natalie a meaningful look.

“Yes,” Natalie said to Ingram. “It would.” When August said nothing, she squeezed his hand under the table, and he nodded once without meeting her eyes. What was going on with him? He knew this dinner was important. Well, if he wasn’t going to make it count, she would show up for the both of them. “It’s not so far-fetched, actually. I’ve never seen anyone so dedicated to teaching himself the art of winemaking with so few tools at his disposal. August came to St. Helena with a dream and a serious work ethic, while so many just show up with millions of Silicon Valley dollars and state-of-the-art equipment, and they never truly understand the finer transformations that take place within the grape. But August continues to try and fail and try again—and eventually he’s going to get it. I know he is. And when he does, it’s going to be amazing, because he’s doing it by hand. By the sweat of his brow. It’s going to mean something more than money.”

She’d gotten so lost in her speech, she didn’t realize Ingram had lowered his glass to the table and was regarding her seriously. Minus the smirk for once. “We should all be so lucky to have someone believe in us the way you believe in your husband, Ms. Vos.”

“Mrs. Cates,” she corrected with a flustered smile. And there was no way not to be flustered when August was using his grip on her hand to pull her closer, all but physically dragging her into his lap. “Stop it,” she whispered.

“No.” His voice had thickened. “People sit on other people’s laps at barbecues.”

“I told you, this isn’t a barbecue,” she whispered back, laughter in her voice. “Barbecues don’t have salad plates.”

“I don’t acknowledge salads. I see nothing.”

Outright giggling now, Natalie slapped at his tugging hand and August finally settled for having their chairs pressed together, their outer thighs flush. Finished with their impromptu play fight, they tore their eyes off each other and found the room riveted.

“Anyway,” Natalie said seriously, with a quick smooth of her hair, “I foresee great things.”

“So do I,” August agreed, looking down at her.

But she had a feeling they weren’t talking about the same thing at all and the possibility made her heart hammer. Made it hard to look at him directly. He was so much.

Corinne finally broke into the extended silence they’d left in their wake. “So, Ingram. Julian and I have been looking into the value of aerial crop monitoring. Of course, I’m not sure this is the season for it. We’re in a rebuilding year after all.”

Julian sighed and set down his wine. “Yes, we’re in a rebuilding year, but that’s even more of a reason to make use of the technology . . .”

Natalie perked up. Ever since Julian had brought up VineWatch, she’d been examining their company history and playing with numbers and statistics. To be honest, she’d been doing this research while she should have been working on strategy for her upcoming client meeting. The one taking place in New York on Friday—four days from now. She couldn’t help but be fascinated, though.

“Natalie,” August said suddenly, “aren’t they talking about the company you’ve been stalking on your laptop for the last few days?”

Everyone’s attention swung toward Natalie.

He’d . . . noticed what she was doing on her laptop?

“Uh . . .” Beneath the table, August placed his hand on her thigh and the warmth was somehow exactly what she needed. “Yes. I did look into VineWatch.”

“And what are your thoughts?” Julian asked, openly curious.

“Natalie isn’t really up to speed on what’s happening here at Vos,” Corinne remarked. “The technology might be cutting-edge and right for some of the more thriving wineries, but we’re not ready for it quite yet.”

“With all due respect, Mother, by the time you’re ready, you’ll have to play catch-up,” Natalie said, shocking herself. She started to wave off her own statement, but August squeezed her leg beneath the table again, nodding at her once. Slowly, she set down her fork and wet her lips. “VineWatch offers a way to reduce the winery’s environmental impact by conserving water and allocating fertilizer in a manner that helps eliminate significant waste. It detects diseases that could potentially spread throughout the region and affect other wineries.” She paused, a little surprised to still have everyone’s attention. “I think it’s great that Vos is rebuilding, but it needs to rebuild correctly and that includes embracing new science. Responsible science. If it were up to me, I wouldn’t simply be considering them as a service provider, I would be looking to invest, because someday very soon, this kind of technology is going to be a requirement for winemakers, not a fun side option.” She straightened her water glass. “I’ve been in contact with their chief operations officer. As it happens, they are bringing on an investor already. A competitor of yours. The tax breaks alone being afforded to green companies will make their investment worthwhile times ten—and they will be called visionaries while everyone else piles on after the fact.”

Natalie sipped her water.

No one said anything for several moments.

She glanced up at August to find him looking . . . awestruck? Corinne’s jaw was hanging open halfway to her salad plate and unless she was hallucinating, Julian wasn’t bothering to hide his pride. Hallie was gleefully topping up everyone’s wineglass.

It was the first time she didn’t feel like a child in her childhood home.

“Well.” Her husband slapped a hand on the table. “Now that we’re all satisfied that my wife is freaking brilliant, it’s time to break out the baby photos, if you don’t mind.”

*  *  *

There were not enough baby pictures.

One measly album? A thin one at that?

August was outraged.

Where were the bad haircuts and Little League photos? His mother would have had Natalie on her couch in the den for a week methodically going through each year of his life on film, and Natalie deserved that same consideration. To Corinne’s credit, the lack of photographic evidence of what must have been a beautifully impish daughter seemed to give her pause.

“There has to be more,” said his mother-in-law, attempting to refill Ingram’s wine for the third time since dinner ended. To put it bluntly, the guy was soused. They’d won him over before the main course and he’d let his guard down, but the closer they got to the end of the evening, the more August’s guard went in the opposite direction.

When Ingram refused the refill and stood up, slapping the straw hat back on his head, everyone stood with him. Everyone but August.

“Tonight was a pleasure, as always,” he said, shaking Julian’s hand. Kissing Corinne’s. “The only thing that could have made it better was Dalton’s presence. St. Helena surely misses that man. I hold out hope that we’ll lure him back from Italy sooner or later.”

Corinne maintained her smile at the mention of her ex-husband. Meanwhile, Natalie sent August an eye roll, and he loved that. He loved that they were sitting beside each other on the couch, his arm around her shoulders, and now she was gifting him little nuggets of exasperation. Still, his dread remained and a moment later, he knew why.

“I’m quite satisfied that this is a strong match between two upstanding young people. I only wish Dalton were here to see it for himself,” Ingram said, tipping his hat. “I’ll file the necessary paperwork in the morning to release Natalie’s trust fund.”

August expected Natalie to thank him. To stand up and cheer. Something.

Instead, her chest seemed to be cranking up and down. “And . . . a meeting with August to speak about the small business loan? Could that be arranged, as well?”

“Yes, of course,” Ingram replied, having no idea that August didn’t require a loan any longer. No, the investment from his CO had arrived in full that very morning, hadn’t it? “Though my calendar is jam-packed this week. I’ll take a look at my schedule when I arrive at the bank tomorrow morning.”

Finally, Natalie exhaled. “Thank you.”

August’s throat was on goddamn fire. Their plan had worked. Natalie was going to get her money. That was what he wanted. But it put her one step closer to no longer needing him.

When Natalie blinked up at him and said his name softly, August realized he was staring into space, imagining the desolate world he’d be living in when she left. She’d get her trust fund and forget his name within a year or two, while he was still hung up on the real one who got away.

Unless.

Unless he could find a way to convince her they were great together before Friday. Before she left for New York. Because once she had that investor in her pocket, it would be over.

Not ready to admit defeat in any way, shape, or form, he drew Natalie onto his lap, dropped his chin onto her head, and flipped back to the start of the baby picture album.

“Again.”