Unfortunately Yours (A Vine Mess, #2)

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?”