Unfortunately Yours (A Vine Mess, #2)

But really, he was just a stubborn, determined man who saw only the goal, not sparing any thoughts about who he climbed over to reach it. And instead of being mad at him, she missed him. Missed sitting shoulder to thigh with him like she’d done last night. Missed the sound of his big, obnoxious laugh—and it had been only one day.

Whether she’d hurt him by protecting herself and not vocalizing her feelings or he was shutting her out, she still wanted to hear that laugh. She wanted this time with him and she wanted to experience it to the fullest because it . . . made her feel a way she couldn’t admit yet. Not without questioning her vision for the future.

Natalie’s attention drifted away from her laptop and around the kitchen, landing on a package of cookies above the stove. Should she make August some food? Heaven only knew the last thing he’d expect was for her to bring him a snack.

An idea struck. A perfect way to hear his laugh again.

She closed her laptop and made sure the door was locked, then she spent the next forty-five minutes setting her plans in motion.

At one time, she’d been known in this town as the prank queen. But it had been a while since she’d played a prank. Funny how the series of pranks excited her more than the chance to guarantee a billion dollars in financing, but that was a problem for another day. For now, she desperately needed to lighten the tension between her and August. And in the process, she’d get him back for making her dance to “Brick House” at their wedding.

Close to an hour later, Natalie plated the cookies she’d been working on, schooled her features, and walked out to the barn. She stopped just inside the door and watched August pulverize the grapes like they’d stolen his bike. Shaking her head, she picked up the cookie on the right edge of the plate and nibbled on it, bumping her hip against the creaky barn door to draw his notice.

When he turned, Natalie was caught off guard to find him looking a little haggard. She considered calling off the whole plan she’d hatched, especially when he saw her and brightened, that weariness vanishing without a trace. Like maybe he’d been out here feeling just as unbalanced as she’d been at the kitchen table.

“Hey,” he said, taking a rag out of his back pocket and mopping his brow. An eager step forward. “You found my Oreo stash.”

“Mmmm.” She took a proper bite out of the one in her hand. “I’m not sharing. I just brought these out here to taunt you.”

At her customary barb, she saw relief landslide down his entire body and it made her stomach hurt. She was right. He’d been out here feeling just as terrible.

“You brought me out a snack, princess. That counts as cooking.”

She rolled her eyes. “No, it doesn’t.”

“Anything you put on a plate is a culinary creation.”

“Stop trying to walk back your bad cook insults. It’s not working.”

“You’re smiling. It’s working.” He came closer and snatched one of the Oreos off the plate. “How about this? In our household, if it’s on a plate, it’s considered an entrée.”

Trying not to look too smug, Natalie sighed. “If you insist.”

“I do.” He sank his straight white teeth into the Oreo and chewed. “Hey, that’s my second ‘I do’ in less than a week—” He froze. Chewed a little more. Then doubled over and spat the chewed-up glop onto the ground. “Christ, what did you do? Replace the frosting with toothpaste?”

“The old Colgate switcheroo,” she confirmed over his dry heaving. “Too easy.”

“Tell that to my esophagus,” he choked.

A laugh blew out of her.

August looked up and smiled, his teeth caked in cookie, turning her laugh into a full-body guffaw. “You realize you’ve incited a war,” he said.

“Yes, sir. The only war in which I can—and will—beat a Navy SEAL.”

He threw back his head and let out a punctuated ha. “Not in your wildest dreams.”

She checked her manicure. “I hope you have good medical.”

“You are toast, Natalie. Pumpernickel. Rye. Sourdough. Toast.”

They were standing at the entrance of the barn, grinning at each other like dummies. Natalie didn’t want to acknowledge how much steadier she felt already. So she wouldn’t. Nor would she acknowledge the fact that she wouldn’t always have the option of going out to the barn and antagonizing him until they got to the other side of whatever was bothering them.

For now, though . . . thank God she did.

Because the thought of being anywhere else made her shudder.

She’d have to get over it. Another day.

Natalie turned and speed walked toward the house, feeling almost buzzed from the giddiness. She couldn’t seem to stop giggling under her breath, the lightness in her chest almost sweeping her up off the ground. Must be the prank. Had to be the prank.

“You know, in my high school yearbook, I was voted Most Likely to Replace Your Hand Sanitizer with Glue.”

August’s laughter boomed across the front yard. “Oh yeah? Well in my high school yearbook, I was voted—”

“Class Clown. Fart Champion. Guy We’ll Miss the Least.”

“Wrong, princess. Most Likely to Surprise You.” There was a short pause. “I do think that was in reference to the fact that I used to sneak up behind people and fart, but still.”

She had to stop halfway up the stairs to the house, because she was almost blinded by tears of mirth. They were streaming down her face, her sides trembling. This was definitely worth the time she’d taken to lick the frosting out of five Oreos. Especially when August followed her into the house a moment later and turned toward the bathroom. “I’m going to take a shower and then it’s on. You’re not getting the best of August Cates.” He traveled halfway down the hallway and stopped. “You didn’t do anything to the shower, did you?”

“What could someone do to a shower?” she asked innocently, sitting back down at her laptop. “I’m going back to work.”

Eyes narrowed into slits, August turned again and, a second later, closed the bathroom door. Natalie bit down hard on her lower lip, listening to him open cabinets and slowly pull back the shower curtain, as if wary of a snake jumping out. She even heard him uncapping the shampoo bottle and taking a big sniff of the contents, which she had to admit was pretty wise.

Just too predictable.

Calmly, she stood up from the table, opened the drawer containing the plastic wrap, tore off a long piece, and attached it across the hallway entrance. She squinted an eye to judge August’s exact height and left the plastic there, waiting. That was when she heard the shower start, the pelting spray interrupted by his large frame.

And the resounding “What the fuck?” that carried though the house, sending the cat skidding from one dark hole to another.

Ready to explode from excitement, Natalie sat down at the table and pretended to type, but kept one eye on the hallway. Sure enough, August burst out of the bathroom a moment later, towel wrapped haphazardly around his hips, blinded by the chicken bouillon cube she’d hidden in the shower nozzle. And just like a dream, he walked straight into the plastic wrap, the film clinging to his slimy features until he tore it off.

“Something wrong, honey?” she asked with mock concern.

“You’re . . .” he sputtered, turning in the direction of her voice while searching the immediate area for something he could use to wipe his face. “You’re a criminal.”

Natalie gasped. “That’s no way to speak to your bride.”

“Fine. You’re a criminal bride. Coming to CBS this fall.”

All right, that deserved a paper towel. When was the last time she’d laughed this hard? Or didn’t feel like the uncertainty of the future was hanging above her head like a hundred-pound sack of fish guts? “Here,” she said a little breathlessly, standing up and handing August the paper towel roll he kept on the counter. “I think you’ve had enough. For now.”

“You, on the other hand . . .” He swiped at his face hastily, cleaning his eyes off enough to pin her with a predatory look. “Haven’t even begun to feel the wrath.”

“Oooh, look at me. I’m shaking.”

“You should be.”

There had to be something terribly wrong with Natalie that she’d never been more attracted to anyone in her life—and he was currently wearing chicken-flavored slime and his mouth probably tasted like mint hell. Yet if he kissed her in that moment, she would have been moaning for him to take her to chicken town in a heartbeat.

Gulping through the humiliation of that, she swiped the screwdriver off the counter where she’d left it, handing it over. “For the showerhead.” She shrugged. “I don’t think they make a tool big enough to fix your pride.”

He shook his head slowly. She expected a hot take to come out of his mouth. Instead, she got “Sam would have adored you.” His gaze carried over her face, as if memorizing her features. “That’s not a prank.”

“Thanks. Thank you,” she sputtered, because she couldn’t think of anything else. Or process thoughts into words when an erosion was taking place inside her.

Looking sort of at a loss himself, August turned on a heel and creaked back toward the bathroom. “Sleep with one eye open, princess,” he shouted before closing the door.

She caught his smile right before it closed.

*

August was cooking something on the other side of her bedroom door.

It smelled incredible.