Unfortunately Yours (A Vine Mess, #2)

“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.”





Chapter Nineteen




It was a startling contrast, the way August could let her get close in some ways, but he continued to doggedly fend her off in others. Last night at her mother’s house, they’d been each other’s one-person hype squads. They’d comforted each other with touches and . . . God, at some point it started to feel like she was actually introducing her husband into the family. She’d forgotten about their arrangement right up until Ingram stood to leave for the night.

She’d wanted to forget again on the ride home, but the silence was too deafening.

Was he waiting for her to announce her returned feelings?

Was he waiting for her to announce she wanted him as her real husband?

Reading August was next to impossible this morning, when he was working in the barn with the door closed, a clear sign to stay out. She wasn’t welcome there. And it was too much of a reminder of how she’d been raised. Allowed to participate only when it was convenient for everyone else and there was no chance she’d screw up.

Maybe she would screw up his operation, even worse than it already was.

After all, she’d flamed out brilliantly in New York.

If he were hurting her intentionally, maybe she could find the heart to be mad at him.