Unfortunately Yours: A Novel (Vine Mess Book 2)

August adjusted his tie in the rearview mirror of his truck, grimacing at the sound of a marching band butchering “America the Beautiful.” Across the street, the parking lot of the train station had been transformed by two high-ceilinged tents, royal blue carpet laid down over the asphalt. Waiters in tuxedos carried around trays holding glasses of red wine, others ferried hors d’oeuvres among guests dressed to the nines.

Unbelievable. All of these people had gathered to celebrate a train that served wine. Technically, any train in the world could serve wine, but these snoots in suits looked for any excuse to rub elbows in their loafers and comment on the orange-peel aftertaste of their drink. He’d been looking forward to never hearing the word “bouquet” ever again in his fucking life, but here he was. About to join this stuffed-shirt soiree in his monkey suit.

All because of a woman.

Not just any woman, though. Natalie Vos.

Jesus Christ. I must be out of my mind.

He’d been worrying about the state of his sanity since last night. She’d walked away and he’d gotten in his truck without starting the engine. And then he’d sat there for an hour. Two. With a curse that was vile even by navy standards, he’d started the truck and gone back to the vineyard he’d never expected to lay eyes on again. He’d planned to conduct the sale with a real estate agent virtually while he spent some time back in Kansas near his parents and regrouped.

He’d made his peace with the fact that he’d never make wine decent enough to honor the memory of Sam. He’d been good with the truth—that he’d given this town his best damn shot and grapes simply weren’t his area of expertise. All efforts to be successful were exhausted. He’d left nothing on the battlefield.

Until last night, when Natalie slid a new opportunity across the table.

Now? August could no longer walk away secure in the knowledge that he’d done everything in his power to bring Sam’s dream to life. There was one more try available—so he had to take it or guilt and loose ends would haunt him for the rest of his life.

And the woman. She would haunt him, too.

Natalie needed something—her trust fund. He could help give it to her.

August liked to think he would help any woman who was up against some ancient bullshit contract designed to force her into marriage, but deep down he knew it was just this one. Natalie. Damn it to hell, what was it about her? Every time they were together, a needle sewed itself in and out of his gut. His palms sweat. His dick pleaded with him to be nicer so it might have a chance of seeing the light of day at some point. Or, better yet, the dark of her bedroom. They fought like they hated each other, but somehow, Lord, he’d been ready to drop to his knees in front of her on that sidewalk last night.

I’m better elsewhere. I’m something. I’m someone when I’m not here.

After the shock of hearing that breathy confession had worn off, he’d just gotten mad.

Who the fuck made her feel like that?

How long had she been feeling like crap without his knowing about it?

That second concern happened to be ridiculous, by the way. There were probably endless things he didn’t know about Natalie Vos. Their relationship didn’t exactly lend itself to a lot of quiet heart-to-hearts in front of a fire. Still, he should have known about her insecurity. That she was better off gone. He should have picked up on it. He should have shut his stupid mouth and paid better attention.

As she’d made abundantly clear, it was too late for August to romance her in any way. Attraction might be an undeniable crackle between them, but she wouldn’t touch him with industrial rubber gloves, let alone her bare hands. Still, he couldn’t walk away from Natalie if she needed him. Not when she’d sucked it up and asked for assistance when it clearly had been very difficult to set aside her pride. No, he’d dwell on it forever.

So he crossed the stupid street in his hot, restrictive suit with his molars grinding together, scanning the crowd for the black-haired goddess he would never get to sleep with but would apparently be marrying, because he’d lost his fucking mind. It was so hot under the tent that he immediately started to sweat. Why did these people insist on gathering to celebrate fermented grape juice? Had none of them heard of baseball? Now that was a reason to gather outside in the sun—

Natalie.

Up ahead.

Hot. Damn. As usual, when August laid eyes on the woman, he had to squeeze his thumbs hard in the palms of his hands. She had these incredibly smart eyes and a soft mouth. He’d never felt the need to categorize another woman’s features before. He sort of stopped at registering the color of someone’s eyes and hair. Brown. Blue. Blond. Green.

Easy.

There was nothing easy about looking at Natalie. All sorts of shit was happening on her features at once and for some reason, he wanted to keep up with all of it. Sometimes she might look bored, but she’d rub her lips together over and over, letting him know she was actually anxious and hiding it. Other times, two little lines formed between her eyebrows like she might be concerned about something, but she’d hoist her chin up in the air like she didn’t have a care in the world. Bottom line, Natalie wasn’t a simple combination of colors, she was an ever-changing kaleidoscope he couldn’t seem to stop peering into.

Although today the color purple was front and center, because in a sea of muted colors, her short lilac dress stood out. Cut high around her throat with a low back and a soft, fluttery skirt. Those long, lithe legs had his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down against the starched collar of his shirt. He could see them all tangled up in his sheets. Could see them bending, locking, being pressed open onto the mattress by his hands.

Those images would never become a reality, and yet he’d love someone to try to stop him from fake marrying this kaleidoscopic woman.

On his way across the tent, he finally noticed Natalie was standing with her mother, her brother, Julian, and the blonde whom August assumed was Julian’s girlfriend. They were speaking in low tones over glasses of wine, seemingly unaware that, as the legendary Vos family, they were of interest to every guest in the tent. Classy, sophisticated. A quiet dynasty that had perhaps seen better days but remained legendary.

Maybe it would be fun to mess that image up for a while.

Fun or not, this was happening.

Because if Natalie was desperate enough to ask August to marry her, then she would eventually find someone else—and the very idea of that made his head want to explode. Maybe that ugly thought bubble was what spurred him into acting rash. She’d suggested they have a civilized conversation about their potential marriage while in neutral territory, right? Unfortunately, there was nothing civilized about August and it was going to be fun reminding her. Catching her off guard.

When August was approximately ten yards away, Natalie’s wineglass paused halfway to her mouth, her attention swiveling in his direction. She blinked back surprise and shifted in her white high heels, started to sip her wine, stopped, then glared at him. He would have laughed if he wasn’t about to finally, finally kiss her again.

“Hey, babe. Sorry I’m late,” August said smoothly, cupping her cheek and drawing her in, as though kissing her were second nature. As if he’d made a practice of it, when in reality, her smoke-and-flowers scent had his tongue seconds from rolling out of his mouth. He let himself feel the distinct pleasure of watching her golden eyes widen in shock—and then he couldn’t feel anything at all but relief. Yeah, relief. There was her mouth.

Perfect as ever. Touching his. Jolting, then softening.

Thank God.

He was only going to catch her off guard a little, needle her, maybe even punish her for doubting that he’d come through—but she inhaled quickly against his lips and he watched up close as her eyelashes fluttered and a dumbfounding one-two punch of lust and satisfaction caught him in the stomach. Their eyes closed simultaneously and they sank in, just for a second, a twisting feast of lips and a rough exhale that said this is far from enough. But here wasn’t the place for more, so he intertwined their fingers, winking at her when no one else could see—and did his damnedest to remember this wasn’t real. It was just one enemy helping out another.

Yeah.

“I . . . um.” Natalie shook herself, briefly shot a glance to her mother, whose eyebrows were nearly buried in her hairline. “August. I-I thought you said you couldn’t make it.”

“August? So formal.” He gave her a playful nudge in the hip. “What happened to ‘my Adonis’?”

Temper snapped in Natalie’s expression, but at least the irritation helped her focus, which had been his intention. “That’s something I call you only when we’re alone,” she said with a toothy smile. “You know, kind of like ‘shit for brains.’ And ‘rat king.’”

August laughed. “I love her sense of humor,” he said to the group, absently plucking a glass of wine off a passing tray and taking a long guzzle. Silence had descended like a heavy drape, not only among their fivesome, but across the tent. Until now, this very second, August hadn’t exactly planned on outright embarrassing Natalie. It was sort of a last-minute spin on his plan, born of sexual frustration and the fact that she truly believed he was a simpleton. He might not have a last name that people whispered in reverence on the streets of St. Helena, but he wasn’t a moron. Holding up his end of their battle of wits seemed to be his only way of making sure she knew it.

A full fifteen seconds had ticked past and still no one had commented on his arrival.

“I think I speak for the group when I say . . .” the dumbstruck blonde—Hallie, was it?—finally ventured in a stage whisper. “H’whaaaa is happening here?”

August feigned surprise, shaking stiff-shouldered Natalie a little. “You didn’t tell them, hon?” He drained the remainder of his wine, handing it off to a man who only looked confused by the empty glass. Oops, not a waiter. “Natalie and I have been seeing each other for a while now. Just like a fine Cabernet, we wanted to give ourselves room to breathe, so we’ve kept it quiet, but I was under the impression we were stepping out into the open today.” He smiled down at Natalie, who was very clearly three seconds from ripping his throat out with her teeth. “You said you didn’t want to hide anymore. You said, ‘Let’s shout it from the rooftops, my Adonis.’”

A sound halfway between a laugh and growl burst out of her. “I don’t think I used those exact words—”

“Nope, that’s what you said. Verbatim.”

“I must have been sleep talking.” Golden eyes crackled up at August and hell if that temper wasn’t turning him on. “People are known to talk in their sleep,” she continued. “In rare cases, people are even known to murder loved ones in their sleep. Did you know that? You might want to keep it in mind.”

August dropped his head back and laughed. “There’s that sense of humor again. One of the million reasons I can’t wait to call you my wife.”

You could hear a pin drop in the tent.

“What was that?” Corinne inquired in a smooth whisper, though her color had lightened by several shades. “Did he say ‘wife’?”

“That’s definitely what I heard,” Julian responded, those studious eyes traveling between his sister and August. “What about you, Hallie?”

“Don’t drag me into this.” Then, out of the corner of her mouth, “But if that is what you said, there’s a family discount on floral wedding arrangements.”

Apart from the brief, appreciative smile Julian sent his girlfriend, the tension in the tent remained thicker than a porterhouse steak. All right, August had gone too far. He’d been having his fun with Natalie, but now her temper had faded into something close to regret and panic.

Thank God he’d run that errand last night.

Struck with panic-induced amnesia, he started slapping at his pockets, trying to locate the ring box—

Corinne distracted him by stepping between him and Natalie, her fingers digging into both of their forearms. “Listen to me very carefully. You’ve just set something very delicate in motion. Do you understand?” She drilled August with a look. “You obviously think this is some sidesplitting joke, but a sham marriage could do lasting damage to our family name.” Her attention transferred to Natalie, sharpening so much that August almost dragged Natalie behind his back to shield her. Would have, if he didn’t suspect the matriarch had something important to say. Something he needed to hear. “Ingram Meyer is in attendance today. He is always in attendance. At everything. He has eyes and ears all over St. Helena and takes his responsibilities at the bank very seriously. If he suspects this relationship is all for show, he will deny the release of your trust fund faster than you made this idiotic plan, Natalie.”

Pulse rippling, August did a quick scan of the crowd, and sure enough, there was the loan officer from the bank—tall, slender, and pasty in a straw hat. This guy had barely glanced at August’s application before dismissing him completely. The same man who held Natalie’s fate in his grip.

“Either drop the act now,” Corinne continued in a low hiss, “or understand that this needs to be a serious endeavor. You’re not just convincing the bank, you’re convincing the whole town of St. Helena because it’s all one giant, plugged-in pipeline. You’ll need to share a residence, be seen together in public. Have a proper wedding. If that’s the direction of your choosing, then act accordingly. Now. Before you two make this family out to be nothing more than a bunch of cheap con artists.”

Was it too late to leave and try his entrance again?

Natalie’s features were carefully schooled, as usual, but the blood had drained from her face—and August loathed himself for causing that reaction.

Why do you do things like this?

No time to explore the mysteries of his universe now, because he had a feeling Natalie was seconds from backing out. Dropping the act. Of course she was. Who would trust him with something so delicate after he’d entered like a bull walking into a china shop?

He could not let this chance slip away. His dick/gut told him he’d regret it forever.

As fast as humanly possible, August drew the ring box out of his pants pocket and got down on one knee.

Natalie swayed backward a little and August’s free hand shot out automatically to steady her. She looked down at him without breathing, her gaze tripping between him and the ring box, then . . . just on him. For a moment, there was no one else in the tent. Only them. And he was slightly alarmed by the rough grind in his chest, even as he was secretly grateful for the rise of nerves. She deserved to have a nervous man down on one knee, didn’t she?

Hell yes, she did.

“What I meant to say, Natalie, is . . . I would like to call you my wife.” He thumbed open the black velvet box without taking his attention off her. Couldn’t have pried it off with a crowbar. Jesus, was there even a chance she’d say yes now? His heart lifted and wedged itself behind his jugular. “I’m asking you to spend the rest of your life trying not to murder me in your sleep. Please.”

Did the corner of her mouth jump?

Had he salvaged this?

Time stood still while she peered down at the ring, those lines popping into existence between her brows. Considering the proposal? Jesus, come on, Natalie. Sweat was beginning to dribble down his spine. He’d been on life-and-death missions less stressful than this.

Finally, she wet her lips and held out her left hand, whispering, “No promises about the murder thing.”

August’s heart dropped back into place and his hearing turned normal again. When had it grown so distorted? No amount of mental orders could keep his fingers from shaking as he took out the small diamond ring and slipped it onto her finger. Not real, he reminded himself again after standing, looking down into her stunned face. Instinct had August pulling Natalie up against his chest, surprise crashing into him when she wrapped her arms around him and held on tight.

People were applauding. Even Natalie’s family. When did that start?

Well. Everyone but Ingram Meyer was clapping.

The man regarded them through narrowed eyes over the rim of his wineglass.

Do better for her.

“Thanks,” she whispered into his shoulder. “You just had to act like a mega asshole, didn’t you? But I guess . . . thanks.”

“Can we negotiate my conjugal rights now?”

Great. Way to do better. His dick truly ruined everything.

“Nope,” Natalie said.

“Worth a shot.”

She smiled up at him sweetly. “I’ll give you a shot. Right in the junk—”

A voice filled the tent, cutting off the rest of her sentence, though August was pretty sure he’d gotten the gist of her threat. Natalie wiggled a little and he dropped his arms, but she let him hold her hand as they turned to face the man now speaking into a microphone toward the sunny edge of the tent. He wore an old-timey bowler hat and a carnation on his lapel, and August’s eyes nearly rolled out of his head.

“Welcome to the grand reopening of the Napa Valley Wine Train, established in 1864. We are pleased to have you aboard as our first passengers in our new, elegant setting. Many of the vintage fixtures and the Honduran wood paneling are the very same—”

Several people lost their minds over this.

People in St. Helena got flustered at the very utterance of the word “vintage.”

“. . . but these features have been restored to a more sophisticated level of their old glory.” The man with the microphone craned his neck and searched the crowd. Why did he seem to be looking directly at August and Natalie? “I hear we have an unexpected proposal in the house? Well, let me tell you, the happy couple is in luck. There isn’t a more romantic setting than Napa at twilight aboard our luxurious train and”—he paused for effect—“this is the perfect time to announce the addition of our special honeymoon seating on the second level. A little corner of glass-domed opulence all to themselves called the Lovers’ Nest. We have our perfect test subjects, have we not?”

“Oh . . .” Natalie called politely. “We don’t need any special treatment—”

“We’ll take it,” August said, cutting her off to a smattering of laughs.

He squeezed her hand.

She buried her nails in the meat of his palm until he choked.

Someone snapped a picture.