Unfortunately Yours (A Vine Mess, #2)

“She’s upset because I missed our meeting at the bank this morning. I know. I went to visit Sam and I couldn’t hear him anymore and I fell asleep. She wouldn’t just leave because of the meeting, though. Would she? She’d be here to fight with me. She’s supposed to be here.”


Julian remained silent a little too long.

“What?” August asked, dread curdling his blood.

“Corrine and I had a meeting with VineWatch this morning. It started just after nine a.m. When Natalie showed up in the driveway, I assumed she was here for the meeting. But my mother hadn’t invited her.” He cursed under his breath. “I should have done it myself.”

August was frozen in the middle of the kitchen floor. “Why wouldn’t you invite Natalie to a meeting with VineWatch? She knows that company inside and out. Better than both of you put together.”

“You’re right. She does.”

How was he still breathing with a fifty-ton anvil sitting on his chest. “So . . .” His swallow got stuck. “So you’re telling me I missed the appointment at the bank. And then she showed up at Vos and found out you were having a meeting without her.”

My wife.

My wife.

We crushed her. I crushed her.

August was back outside now and the chill of panic had taken firm hold of his jugular and both lungs. Barn. She wouldn’t be in the barn, but he had to look anyway.

He’d asked her not to go in there. Now he was desperate to find her inside.

Funny how fast things could change.

No. It wasn’t funny at all. He’d asked her to keep out of this place where he performed the ritual of winemaking in honor of his friend. He’d refused to involve her, just like her family. Pushed her away where it counted, while expecting her to come closer physically and emotionally. All the while . . .

He’d been the one putting up the barrier.

“Oh my God, I’m such a fucking moron.”

“August . . .” Julian sighed. “I haven’t told you the worst part. She said she was going to New York. Having a dinner meeting at some place called Scarpetta. It’s hard to tell if Natalie is being serious sometimes, but obviously . . . she went.”

Jesus. No. In the middle of the barn, August’s legs weakened. He dragged his hand down his face and viewed the barn and all of his equipment through raw, gritty eyes.

No wonder my wine sucks. It needed her. I needed her.

He was no better than her family. She’d tried so hard to get in, to be important to them, until eventually she gave up. He’d been so outraged on her behalf. Who could keep their distance from someone so incredible and smart and dynamic and lively . . . ?

Meanwhile he’d done the exact same thing.

He’d rejected her help. He’d rejected her. Denied them a chance to be closer because he insisted on feeling his way alone in the dark. He was like a man who refused to pull over and ask for directions, but a hundred times worse, because being valued, considered . . . it meant so much to his Natalie. He was supposed to be her safe place, but he’d been hurting her all along.

Now she was gone.

Somehow August knew something had changed before he even reached the row of barrels—and after pulling out a few stoppers, the difference was obvious. The wine had lost a lot of its cloudiness. Was less sluggish. And the taste wasn’t a 100 percent improvement—not so soon—but by God, it was a hell of a lot better.

She could have been helping all along. And his stupid pride had kept her locked out.

“I fucked up,” he croaked into the phone, falling forward onto his elbows. “I have to go.”

“August, wait.” August barely had the strength to keep the phone pressed to his ear. “It wasn’t so long ago that I almost ruined things with Hallie. I know you must feel like absolute shit right now. God knows I do—”

August wailed something unintelligible.

“My mother and I both owe Natalie a serious apology. But you’re the one who has to reach her right now. Act sooner than I did with Hallie. You’ll have less of a hole to dig out of.”

“I’ve been digging a hole from day one, man. I’ve reached China at this point.”

“Start climbing out of it now.” Julian paused. “Women have the capacity for forgiveness and compassion that men will never fully grasp. She might decide to spare your life.”

That’s exactly what it would be. Sparing his life. He could already feel the will to live deserting him slowly. “I’m in love with your sister. I love her so much.”

“We’ve established this.”

“She’s only been gone for a little while and I already miss her so much—”

“August, this is getting weird.”

“Okay. Sorry.” He cleared his throat, tried to put some steel in his voice, but it sounded suspiciously like a sniffle. “Later, man.”

“Goodbye, August. And good luck.”

August dropped the device and buried his head in his hands. “Goddammit.”

She’d gone to New York. Three thousand miles out of his reach.

Then you better get your ass to the airport, roared Sam’s voice, back and louder than ever. They probably don’t have any extra legroom seats left, but you’ll survive.

If August could have plucked those words out of the ether and crushed them to his chest, he never would have let go. Of course Sam had gone silent. August’s conscience had probably been blocking those mental echoes from coming through.

Come on, August, you can make this right. I believe in you.

That final dose of confidence from his best friend was exactly what he needed to sprint toward the house. If his wife was on the opposite coast, that was where he needed to be, too.





Chapter Twenty-Four




There was a low buzz in the back of Natalie’s head.

It had been there since she’d landed in New York. It was still there when she checked into the hotel, just off Park Avenue, and it was growing louder now as the potential investor spoke to her from across the polished table, talking about his recent trip to Mykonos. That was how these meetings worked. They didn’t talk about money or investment strategies, it was all social chitchat until the last five minutes. Up until that point, every tick of the clock was spent determining whether she had reached a high enough social standard to even associate with.

In the not-so-distant past, she didn’t even have to take meetings. Her portfolio did the talking. But that approach didn’t work anymore. Her company might have asked her to step down quietly, but after an extended absence and without a successful firm to back her up, her stock as a financier had dropped significantly.

“You wouldn’t believe the water,” said the investor, crunching into some kind of crostini with lobster salad on top. “We couldn’t tell where it ended and the sky began. We’re thinking of going back for Christmas. Too many tourists in New York in December.”

Based on her research, he was from Florida, but fine. Hate on people just trying to have a stinking vacation.

“Greece in December,” Natalie forced herself to respond in a bright, interested tone. “That’s the time to go, so you can avoid the heat.” Was that even true? Natalie didn’t know. She needed to get her head in the game here, but she couldn’t seem to concentrate. Had August found her handiwork in the barn? Was he angry that she’d overstepped his boundary or . . . maybe he was surprised he didn’t utilize her solution sooner and would use it, even if he didn’t come up with it himself?

Fat chance. He was too stubborn.

And it was really, wildly ridiculous to miss him so much that her body was sore.

Did they really sleep together for the first time this week?

It felt like they’d been making love for a century.

“Ah!” The investor broke into her thoughts by signaling someone over her shoulder. “I see one of my colleagues at the bar. Shall we settle up here and join them?”

My God, this whole night was getting away from her. She’d flown three thousand miles to secure a chunk of this man’s money. Claudia had busted her behind to pin him down for Natalie. Now that she finally had the chance, she was blowing it?

Natalie mentally shook herself and leaned forward. “Before we do that, Mr. Savage—and tonight is on me, of course—I would love to talk to you about the new venture—”

“Listen, Miss Vos, I’ll be plain,” he interrupted, wiping his mouth with the white cloth napkin and setting it aside. She could see the rejection coming a mile away and all she could think was I’m not Miss Vos anymore. I’m Mrs. Cates. “I appreciate the fact that you’ve flown all the way from Napa to take this meeting, but I’m not sure us getting into bed together is the best play for me.”

It took a physical effort not to openly gag at his phrasing. “I understand your hesitation completely, of course. I’ve been out of the game for a while, but that’s an advantage, not a drawback. I’m coming in with a fresh perspective. You’re going to get more than the same stale plays from me. Sure, my firm is the epitome of young, but you have a reputation as a maverick. You take gambles, as well. Early on in your career, you invested in microprocessors before that kind of tech became a standard addition to every portfolio.”