Unfortunately Yours (A Vine Mess, #2)

“So this is the place you’ve built for my son.” Commander Zelnick stopped, clasped his hands behind his back. His tone was brisk as ever, but warmth seeped through. “Had a week off and finally decided to come see it for myself.”

Christ. He’d almost left it behind two days earlier. Out of necessity, sure, but this man would have arrived and found an abandoned vineyard. If it weren’t for Natalie.

He pulled her closer without thinking. “Yes. For Sam. It’s a work in progress,” he managed around the object in his throat. “Sir, I would like you to meet Natalie Vos. My fiancée.” Perpetuating the phony relationship to his CO didn’t exactly feel great, but the words were out in the open before he could think better of them. Just hanging there, feeling like the truth. “Natalie, this is Commander Brian Zelnick.”

Zelnick nodded, visibly impressed—and a little surprised. “Good to meet you, Natalie.”

Of course he would be surprised. Not only was Natalie beautiful in a polished way, she had an air of sophistication and success that she wore like an aura. In other words, not the kind of girl who ended up with a loud asshole who liked to trade battle wound stories and had long ago earned the nickname Bullhorn among his fellow SEALs.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” she said, going back to scrutinizing August. He could feel that she wanted to ask about Sam and he pressed a thumb to the small of her wrist, hoping she would know what it meant. That he’d explain later. And somehow she did. She interpreted the action with a nod. “I’ll let you two talk.” To August, she said, “I’ll be inside.”

Natalie tugged on her hand three times before August realized he was still holding it in his grip. Finally, he released her and they watched her walk toward the house, go inside, and close the door. August and the commander turned together like a single unit and walked side by side toward the edge of the vines, the earthy, sun-heated aroma of greenery and grapes carrying in their direction on a light breeze.

A bead of sweat rolled down August’s temple as he waited for his CO to speak.

This man had assured him once that he didn’t blame August for what happened to Sam—and the CO never repeated himself. Nonetheless, August had to swallow the deep urge to ask for those words one more time. God, he needed to hear them and yet, they made no difference. He’d let his friend get killed fifteen yards away from him.

Fifteen fucking yards.

“I appreciate what you’ve done here, son,” said Zelnick, his voice more gravelly than before. “Sam would have, too.”

August cleared his throat hard. “To tell you the truth, I’m a shit winemaker, sir. I think he’d probably be laughing his ass off.”

A low chuckle from his CO. “I did my homework. I know it hasn’t been an ideal experience for you. That’s the other reason I’m here.” He remained silent a moment. “You’ve always been a battering ram. Kick down the door, ask questions later. But there are certain things in life that require patience and diligence. You must have learned some of that lesson already, if you’ve convinced that woman to marry you.”

Patience and diligence.

Is that what he’d been needing with Natalie?

He memorized those two words and tucked them away for later.

“You’re saying I can’t expect perfection right away,” August said. “That it takes time.”

“Yes.” Zelnick crossed his arms and braced his legs apart in a stance that was so familiar to August, reminded him so much of Sam, that he had to look away. “That being said, I know that spending time on a project like this equals money. A lot of it. That’s why I’m here to invest.”





Chapter Nine




Natalie stood at the window peering through the blinds, Menace making figure eights through her legs. She studied the ripple that went through August’s back, her fingers restless on the sill. It took her a moment to realize she was tracing the exact shape of that scar on his right shoulder and she immediately stopped. Backed away from the blinds. Went back and looked out again.

So this is the place you’ve built for my son.

Okay. Wait. What?

What had she missed?

And why was this new unknown tying her stomach in knots?

An idea occurred to her and she stepped back from the window once more, turning, hesitating for a moment, then striding into the kitchen and throwing open cabinets. Searching for a bottle of wine. Maybe an answer to the riddle would be included on the label, which she’d never bothered to read very closely.

Nothing. Not a single bottle of August’s wine in the house—he’d given them all away.

She pulled out her phone and performed a Google search with the name of August’s winery. Several critical reviews popped up. Her gaze snagged on the words undrinkable, fermented in a dumpster, kill it with fire. But of course he didn’t have a website. She’d just moved on to the second page of search results when the front door of the house opened and August stood outlined in the frame, his thick body nearly blocking out all of the sun.

His throat appeared to be stuck in the middle of a swallow.

Natalie couldn’t seem to move, could only watch him as he took a few absent steps into the house and closed the door behind him, his heavy footfalls making the floorboards groan. In the distance was the sound of a car engine starting and moving out of earshot. His commanding officer was leaving already?

“Did the . . . meeting not go well?”

August paused in the hallway leading toward the bedroom. “It went fine.” Briefly, he glanced back at her over his shoulder and she hurriedly cataloged the trench between his brows. “Thanks for going along with the whole fiancée thing in front of him. He’s going to tell everyone back on base that I’m marrying a knockout.”

When he kept walking, leaving that knee-weakening compliment in his wake, Natalie started to shiver. He wasn’t being himself. It reminded her of the afternoon of the wine tasting competition. How he’d retreated deep into that big, goofy head and couldn’t seem to find his way out. So she followed him. All the way to the bathroom. When she opened the door, he was standing with his hands braced on the sink, his head bowed forward.

“August, who is Sam?”

After a moment, his head came up, and he turned toward her, his expression weary. “He was my best friend. He . . . died in combat. Killed during a raid. Last one in. He was the last one in. I’m still not sure how we missed the target coming down the staircase. Faulty intel, they said, as if it helps.” While she digested that awful and jarring information without being able to take a breath, August’s fingers drummed on the side of the vanity. “Sam had this dream to be a winemaker. We all laughed about it. Called him Napa Daddy. But he was serious about doing it. Leaving the teams one day and buying a small vineyard, like this one. This is his dream, not mine. I’m just the one fucking it up.”

Natalie’s stomach hung down somewhere in the vicinity of her ankles. Every terrible thing she’d ever said to him came roaring back in perfect clarity, making her throat feel like it had been cut to ribbons. “August . . .”

“You’re right.” He pushed off the sink abruptly, his hoarse laugh filling the small bathroom. “I smell god-awful. I’ll take a quick shower and then we can talk about wedding stuff, huh?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. Just leaned into the shower stall and twisted the handle, the sound of water pelting the tile wall filling the silence. Feeling numb down to her toes, Natalie backed out of the bathroom and closed the door behind her. Guilt burned inside every one of her organs. Made her limbs feel like dead weight. All this time, he’d been trying to fulfill this dream for his late best friend and everyone had been ridiculing him for it?

The reality of that was too much to bear.

Natalie’s hand still rested on the bathroom doorknob and she watched through gritty eyes as it turned in her grip, letting her back into the now-fogged-up space. What am I doing? No idea. But she knew that she’d been extremely unfair to the man on the other side of the shower curtain. He was clearly hurting after having painful memories dredged up . . . and she wanted very badly to comfort him. In any way she could.

Maybe the only way she could in this exact moment?

Natalie untucked her T-shirt from the waistband of her skirt, pulling it off over her head. Her skirt dropped to the floor, followed by her sandals. Her fingers hesitated for only a moment on the front clasp of her bra before releasing it. Baring her breasts to the hot, foggy room. Too eager to touch him to realize she still wore her mint green panties, she walked slowly to the curtain and drew it back, stepping into the stall.

Or . . . squeezing into it, rather. August occupied nearly every inch of space.

He stood with his head hanging forward beneath the spray, but the sound of the curtain being pulled back and her stepping into the shower had the meat of his shoulders flexing dramatically—and he turned with an incredulous expression.

“Natalie? What are you . . .” If he was a cartoon dog, his tongue would have rolled out of his mouth. “Are those your tits?”