Unfortunately Yours (A Vine Mess, #2)

“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.”