Unfortunately Yours (A Vine Mess, #2)

It took him a moment to swallow the sideways pencil in his throat. “You’re the most important person in my life, Natalie. You always will be.”

Her fingertips were busy for a moment in his chest hair, before they stilled and she exhaled slowly. “The day you rescued Teri Frasier and her kids from the flood . . . that’s when I realized I was in love with you, but when you walked in tonight, I . . . you felt like my husband. You were my real husband for the first time, and I loved you so much. I love you so much—”

“Oh my God.” August’s body moved on its own, tackling her into the pillows, covering her entire body with his. Holding her down as if to trap the words before they fluttered away. His heart was no longer beating in his chest. It was up in the clouds somewhere. There was a strong likelihood he was crushing her and wouldn’t that be ironic? Woman admits to loving man, is immediately smothered to death. But he wasn’t in control of his own body. It was fucking shaking, he was so humbled and grateful and in love. So in love he didn’t know how one body, even his big-ass one, could carry it all. “You love me, Natalie?”

“Totally. Completely. I love you, August.”

A warm balm spread across his soul. “We’re going home to run the winery together, okay? It’s ours as well as Sam’s. I’ll do better.”

She captured his face in her hands, her damp eyes looking into his equally moist ones. “I’ll do better, too. You’re not the only one who’s imperfect.”

“Agree to disagree.” He kissed her hard. “Tell me again that I’m your real husband.”

“You’re my real husband,” she breathed, a tear slipping down her cheek. “Now show me.”

When she rolled over and pressed her bare ass into his lap, he needed no further encouragement. He’d show her every single day, for as long as he lived.





Chapter Twenty-Six




The morning after they’d returned from New York, the air tasted sweeter, her chest felt lighter, and she was more optimistic than she’d been in a really long time. Not the desperate, edgy kind of optimism that came with trying to climb the finance world ladder, but . . . a calm sense that she was in the right place. That she might just be enough on her own without having to prove herself over and over again.

While waiting to board their flight at JFK, Natalie had called and explained everything to Claudia and offered to compensate her for all the time she’d spent working on their start-up. Of course, she’d accepted, because smart was smart. Natalie’s loyal friend may have even seemed a little happy that her marriage to August was going to stick. Not that she would ever admit it. Natalie had also left a message with Savage’s assistant letting him know they would no longer require the investment. Unless he fancied putting his money behind a winery with a one-star Yelp rating.

No word back yet.

Julian and Corinne had been waiting in August’s driveway when they pulled up, having been alerted of their arrival back in Napa via text from August. Her mother actually apologized—and meant it, unless Natalie was totally mistaken. Her mother genuinely hadn’t wanted to bother Natalie with business on “her honeymoon” but would be including her in all interactions with VineWatch going forward.

“Not only that, I’ll be grateful for your input,” her mother had said.

Yeah. The air felt different today. Easier to inhale.

Natalie stopped short in front of the production barn.

Even after August’s assurance that no part of the winery was off-limits to her anymore, she still couldn’t bring herself to simply walk inside. Her husband stepped into view inside the barn, waving at her from the dusky interior, a leather apron pulled on over his white T-shirt.

“Morning, princess.”

Warmth trickled through her at the husky familiarity in his voice and she had to force a sip of coffee past the lump in her throat. “Morning.”

He cleaned his hands on a rag a lot longer than seemed necessary, all while looking her over. “I was hoping you could help me out in here today.”

Her fingers flexed around the coffee mug, happiness popping like bubbles below her throat. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah,” he said gruffly, his attention falling to the wine barrels briefly, then shooting back to her eyes. “I need you.”

Natalie shook her head. “You can take some time letting me in, August.”

He looked prepared for that response, because his expression didn’t change one iota. His voice remained even, though the latter seemed to require an effort. “You’re in, Natalie. You’re in deep and that’s where I want you. I can’t do this for Sam by myself. I need you with me. I’ve needed you with me all along.” He paused. “That’s probably why I couldn’t hear him the other day. He was giving me the silent treatment until I pulled my head out of my ass. He’s back now.”

Natalie breathed in and out very carefully, positive too big of an inhale would snap her in half. “I’m so glad, August,” she whispered unevenly. “I’m glad he’s back.”

“I was trying to beat back my guilt for not saving Sam by doing this all myself, but the truth is . . . he never would have wanted that.” He looked around at the interior of the barn, as if seeing it for the first time. “He never would have wanted me to succeed at his dream . . . at the cost of you.” His eyes found their way back to her. “Because you’re my dream. He’d want me to have you as much as he wanted this place. And . . . I’m the one who is still here. He’d tell me to cut the shit, quit feeling guilty, and live this dream with my wife.”

It was hard to find words, let alone the right ones in that moment, so she simply spoke from the heart. “You were lucky to have Sam, August. But he was lucky to have you, too.”

“Thanks.” Clearing his throat, he shoved the rag into his pocket hastily. “Jesus, I can’t believe I ever asked you to stay out now that I want you in here with me so fucking bad, Natalie.”

“Okay, I’m coming,” she said breathlessly, desperate to stop his flow of words before he said something, a final thing that would make her crumble. “Okay.” She cradled her mug against her chest and approached him, her pulse ripping into an unruly rhythm the closer she came to August and his big leather apron. “You don’t have to be so dramatic.”

“I’m completely dramatic over you. Deal with it.”

She slipped past him into the production facility, the fronts of their bodies brushing together and making their breath catch. “If I have to deal with your drama, you have to deal with my speech about the intricacies of a grape.”

“Done.” He followed behind Natalie, leaving her almost no room to breathe. “I’m all ears. And muscles, because obviously. Lay your intricacies on me, princess.”

Natalie stopped in front of the racked barrels, noticing immediately that August had spent the morning filtering the ones she hadn’t had time to do on Friday.

She looked at August to find a serious expression on his face, arms crossed.

He wasn’t just paying her lip service, he was actively following her lead.

“Um . . .” She wet her suddenly dry lips. Why was her pulse going so fast? “Well. The character of a grape depends on a lot of factors. Climate, soil, whether the vines were stressed or understressed, the temperature at which they were picked and stored. I’m sure you’re aware by now of tannins. They provide texture. They give the wine structure.” She glanced back at the equipment behind her that was no longer in use. “You appear to have given the wine a short maceration time at a warmer temperature. That’s a good practice for extracting those tannins. Where you’re going wrong is the fermentation period.”

“The filtration helped,” August said without shifting his attention from her face. “I tasted some and didn’t want to curl up and die. But it still needs a lot of work.”

“Yes. We’ve removed the bacteria and excess yeast. But we need to continue to blend our wine. It hasn’t been given enough oxygen.”

“Sort of symbolic, isn’t it?” He swooped in and kissed the side of her neck, lingering there for a second, wetter one. “The blending of two lives . . .”

“Are you going to be this romantic all the time?” She gasped as his lips moved hotly over her ear. “Or is it all the bacteria talk getting you worked up?”

“I’m going to give you all the romance you can stand, Natalie queen princess Cates.” His smile was flirtatious against her mouth. “But mainly, it’s all the ‘our wine’ and ‘we need to continue to blend’ talk. It makes us sound like a team.”

“That’s what we are,” she whispered, her emotions vibrating like a tuning fork. “Isn’t it?”

“No, Natalie. Like I told you . . .” His forehead dropped to hers. “We’re the dream team.”

She smiled on the heels of their kiss. “I think you just named our first vintage.”

“First of many.”