Unfortunately Yours (A Vine Mess, #2)

His stomach bottomed out, leaving him almost too winded for a reply. “Hell, huh? Your old stomping grounds, right?”

“Yup!” She didn’t even bother turning around. “That’s where I met your mom. She said she’d rather live in hell than drink your wine.”

A crank turned in his rib cage as she moved out of earshot. Too far to hear him over the event music that had started up. Definitely too far to touch, so why were his fingers itching for her skin? His chances with Natalie were subzero now. Just like his chance at succeeding as a vintner. With a final long look at the one who got away, August cursed, climbed into his truck, and tore out of the parking lot, ignoring the strong sense of leaving something undone.





Chapter Two




Natalie searched blindly in the dark for the button on her sound machine, cranking the symphony of rain and bullfrogs to the maximum level. Julian and Hallie tried to be quiet. They really did. But bedsprings creak at four o’clock in the morning for only one reason—and creak they did. Natalie covered her face with a pillow for good measure and rolled back into the sheets, employing what she called the State Capitals Method. On the occasions her brother and his new girlfriend decided to make love down the hallway in the guest house they all shared, Natalie avoided that troubling imagery by naming state capitals.

Montgomery, Juneau, Phoenix . . .

Squeak squeak squeak.

That was it.

Natalie sat up in bed and pushed off her sleep mask, giving the wine dizziness a moment to dissipate. No more excuses. It was time to bite the bullet and go talk to her mother. It was time to get the hell out of Napa. She’d been licking her wounds far too long, and while she was happy beyond words for Julian to have found the love of his life, she didn’t need to witness it in surround sound.

She threw off the covers and stood, her hip bumping into the nightstand and knocking over an empty wineglass. One of four—as if she needed another sign that she’d turned into a lush in the name of avoiding her problems.

Life had ground to a standstill.

Looking out the window of the back bedroom, she could see the main house where she’d grown up and Corinne, her mother, currently lived. That was her destination in the morning. Asking her mother for money was going to sting like a thousand wasps, but what choice did she have? If she was going to return to New York and open her own investment firm, she needed capital.

Her mother wasn’t going to make it easy. No, she was probably waiting right now in front of a roaring fire, dressed in all her finery, having sensed that Natalie was on the verge of humbling herself. Sure, they’d had a few softer moments since Natalie’s return to St. Helena, but just under the surface, she’d always be the Embarrassment to Corinne.

Natalie tossed her eye mask in the direction of the sad, empty wineglass quartet and plodded into the en suite bathroom. Might as well get the talk over with early, right? That way if Corinne said no to Natalie’s proposal, at least she’d have the whole day to wallow. And this was Napa, so wallowing could be made very fashionable. She’d find a wine tasting and charm everyone in attendance. People who had no idea she’d been asked to step down as a partner of her finance firm for a wildly massive trade blunder that cost, oh, a cool billion.

Nor would they know she’d been kicked to the curb by her fiancé, who had been too embarrassed to meet her at the altar.

Back in New York? Persona non grata.

In St. Helena? Royalty.

Snort. Natalie shed her sleepshirt and stepped beneath the hot shower spray. And if she thought her brother doing the deed constituted an unwanted image, it had nothing on the memory of August Cates yesterday afternoon in all his beefcake glory.

I don’t have a bottomless bank account like some people in this town.

If only.

Natalie didn’t have anything to complain about. She was living in a beautiful guest house on the grounds of a vineyard, for god’s sake. But she’d been living off her savings for more than a month now and she could barely open a lemonade stand, let alone launch a firm, with the amount left over. She had privilege, but financial freedom presented a challenge. One she could hopefully overcome this morning. All it would cost was her pride.

The fact that August Cates planned to leave St. Helena imminently had nothing to do with her sudden urgency to leave, too. Nothing whatsoever. That big, incompetent buffoon and his decisions had no bearing on her life. So why the pit in her stomach? It had been there since he approached the table to have his wine judged yesterday. The man had a chip the size of Denver on his shoulder, but he always had kind of a . . . softness in his eyes. A relaxed, observant quality that said I’ve seen everything. I can handle anything.

But it was missing yesterday.

And it caught Natalie off guard how much it threw her.

He’d looked resigned. Closed off.

Now, drying her hair in front of the foggy bathroom mirror, she couldn’t pretend that hole in her belly wasn’t yawning wider. Where would August go? What would he do now that winemaking was off the table?

Who was August Cates?

Part of her—a part she would never admit to out loud—had wondered if she would find out eventually. In a weak moment. Or by accident.

Had she been looking forward to that?

Natalie turned off the dryer with a snappy movement, ran the brush one final time through her long, black hair, and left the bathroom, crossing to her closet. She put on a sleeveless black sweaterdress and leather loafers, added a swipe of nude lipstick and some gold earrings. By the time she was finished, she could see through the guest room window that lights were on in the main house and she took a long breath, banishing the jitters.

The worst Corinne could say was no, Natalie reminded herself on the way up the path that ran alongside the fragrant vineyard. The sun hadn’t risen yet, but the barest rim of gold outlined Mount St. Helena. She could almost feel the grapes waking up and turning toward the promise of warmth from above. Part of her truly loved this place. It was impossible not to. The smell of fertile earth, the tradition, the magic, the intricate process. Thousands of years ago, some industrious—and probably bored—people had buried bottles of grape juice underground for the winter and invented wine, which proved Natalie’s theory: where there is a will to get drunk, dammit, there is a way.

She paused at the bottom of the porch steps leading to the main house. Old-world charm oozed from every inch of her childhood home. Greenery spilled over flower boxes beneath every window, rocking chairs urged people to sit and relax, and the trickle of the pool’s water fixture could be heard from the front of the house, even though it was located behind it. A gorgeous manor that never failed to make winery visitors swoon. The place was incredible. But she had more affection for the guest house than the manor where she’d lived from birth to college. And right now, all it represented was the obstacle ahead.

A moment later, she knocked on the door and heard the sound of footsteps approaching on the other side. The peephole darkened, the lock turned—and then she was looking at Corinne.

“Seriously?” Natalie sighed, giving her stately mother a once-over, taking in the smoothed black-gray hair and perfect posture. Even her wrinkles were artful, allowed onto her face by invitation only. “You’re fully dressed at five o’clock in the morning?”

“I could say the same about you,” Corinne replied without missing a beat.

“True,” Natalie said, sliding into the house without an invitation. “But I don’t live here. Do you even own a bathrobe?”

“Did you come here to discuss sleepwear?”

“Nope. Humor me.”

Corinne closed the door firmly, then locked it. “Of course I own a robe. Normally, I would be wearing it until at least seven, but I have virtual meetings this morning.” In an uncharacteristic move, her mother let a smile peek through before it was quickly quelled. “Your brother has negotiated a deal making us the official wine of several wedding venues down the California coast. He is really helping turn things around for us.”

“Yeah, he is.” Natalie couldn’t help but feel a spark of pride in her brother. After all, he’d overcome his own baggage pertaining to this place and landed on the other side much better off. At the same time, however, Natalie couldn’t ignore the wistfulness drifting through her breast. God, just once, she’d love someone to talk about her like Corinne spoke about Julian. Like she was vital. Valued. Wanted and needed. “It’s hard to tell him no when he’s speaking in his stern professor voice. Takes people right back to seventh grade.”

“Whatever he’s doing, it’s working.” Corinne squared her shoulders and moved farther into the foyer, gesturing for Natalie to precede her into the living space and to the right, overlooking the rambling vineyard and the mountains beyond. They took seats on opposite ends of the hard couch that had been there since Natalie’s childhood and was almost never used. Voses didn’t gather.