Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

It is a universal truth that people don’t make the best decisions while drinking alcohol. In fact, people came to places like this with the express intention of making questionable decisions. To stop being responsible for a while and let fate stir the pot. Case in point, axe throwing in a bar. As a man who’d undergone extensive weapons training and knew how shit could go wrong in the blink of an eye, he wanted to carry Natalie out of there over his shoulder. The fact that she was anywhere near several blades was unsettling him to a degree that couldn’t be ignored.

The increasing protectiveness he felt for his fiancé told August . . .

This wasn’t temporary.

They weren’t.

Sorry, princess. Sucks to be you.

This woman standing in front of him was his destiny. Part of him had known it the night they met, when she’d made him laugh and made him horny in the same breath. Jesus, she looked beautiful tonight with all that dark, smudgy makeup around her eyes and her hair . . . it kind of looked like sex hair. Like she’d been rolling around in the sheets. Was that intentional? Fuck. He would give up watching baseball for a decade to sink a fist into it right now. Move her head right to left, tug it back so he could get a look at that mouth up close.

Don’t get me started on her legs.

If someone brandished an axe within ten yards of those pins, he’d throw them out of this place through the plate glass window. And her face. Man, he loved looking at those kaleidoscopic features as they brightened and dimmed and shifted. They were the reason he’d gotten severely off track.

Bottom line, he knew in his bones that in fifty years, he’d still want to look at her face.

Pretty sure he’d be starved for the opportunity.

He was protective by nature—and by trade—but the way he felt about Natalie’s safety was on a whole other level. It wasn’t just her physical safety he seemed to worry about at all times, it was the safety of her feelings. Her heart. I’m responsible. But just like any operation, he needed to get in there and find out what he was dealing with. He needed intel.

That was where their path from temporary to permanent needed to start.

And if Natalie knew he’d taken the loan from his CO and was marrying her purely because he wanted her to achieve her goals—and fine, because he couldn’t stand the thought of never seeing her again—she’d stab him to death.

So he’d just leave that a secret for now. At least until she stopped hating him.

Love means letting go of your pride, after all.

Those words circled around and around his head. Was he ready to stop trying to win their ongoing battle of wills? Maybe not completely. Totally letting his guard down around Natalie might lead to his balls being amputated. He could damn well begin making inroads, though.

If the men win, you agree to grow old with me.

Too much.

Also too much, but his big trap had already released the challenge—and damn, he really did want to know what had driven her back to Napa. If he was being forced to pry the information out of her, it couldn’t be good.

Natalie’s expression had grown shuttered on the heels of his throwing down the gauntlet, but almost immediately, she straightened her shoulders and pinned him with a look. “Fine. And if I win, you have to let me help you with your wine production.”

Oh boy. No way.

Natalie had teased him so brutally about his shit winemaking, allowing her into the inner sanctum of his production line would make him feel like an exposed wound. “Do you actually want to help or are you just trying to one-up me?”

She pursed her lips, pretending to consider it. “Both.”

Let her help. What’s the big deal?

Making the wine was supposed to be his gift to Sam. Not just a gift, though . . . more of an atonement for letting him die. It was August’s penance to serve and he was protective of the job. It was his work to do. His amends to make. No one else’s.

Instead of being exasperated by his stubbornness, she seemed kind of fascinated by it. “Um . . . okay, fine. For the entire month that we’re married, you’re not allowed to complain about how long I take to do my makeup.”

He scoffed into his beer. “Someone’s scared.”

Tits.

Beautiful, beautiful tits.

She tossed her sex hair. “Good.” So flippant. Except he caught her blush.

Did she like knowing he’d remember their shower for eternity?

Yeah. She did.

She snorted, gripping the front of his shirt and pulling him down. But she hesitated before their lips could touch. Wetting hers and staring at his. “Fine.”

As if it was no big deal.

Right before their mouths met, however, she looked up at him and proved herself wrong. It was a very big deal. They kissed in the middle of the bar like they were alone. August absently set his beer onto the closest table so he could finally, blessedly, sink all ten fingers into her hair and go to fucking town on that mouth. Tongue, lips, teeth. He used everything at his disposal to make her moan while they slanted their parted mouths, sampled, took deeply. And deeper still. I’m going to figure us out, he told her with the kiss, meaning it with every breath in his body. I’m going to marry you, make this work.

When they pulled back for air, Natalie looked more than a little startled.

Hell, he was startled, too. Every time they kissed, he needed more. More of her.

She gathered air into her lungs with their lips still only inches apart. “We better stop—”

Natalie knocked his hand aside and marched past him toward the axe-throwing booth, her gait more than a little unsteady. “W-we were just sealing the wager.”

A few moments later, when August picked up his first axe, he didn’t even put his beer down. He looked Natalie right in the eye and threw a bull’s-eye, then drained his pint glass while she and Hallie stared at him with their jaws on the ground. “What the . . .” Natalie sputtered. “You just—”

August pointed to himself. “SEAL. Remember?” He signaled the passing waitress with his empty glass. “Word to the wise, never make a bet with one of us. Especially when weapons are involved. What were you thinking?”

You’re doing a great job of making this relationship permanent, buddy.

Natalie looked at him like he’d lost his marbles. Maybe he had.

After all, he was needling her while she was holding a sharp object.

As August watched, staring at her ass for only a few well-worth-it seconds, Natalie picked up the axe and sank it straight into the red bull’s-eye. And she lit up. Her mouth fell open, light flooding her eyes. She gasped, hands flying up to her mouth. Like a woman did during a proposal. Like she might have done if he hadn’t turned his proposal into a giant joke.

Dammit.

Swear to God, the whole bar blurred around them as she celebrated.

Jump into my arms. Do it. Please do it.

Spoiler: she did not.

She gave him a prim sniff and took her place off to the side, way too far from him. “Can you please come over here, Natalie?” he said.

Her features momentarily softened and she eventually rolled her eyes and sauntered over, nestling in beside him out of necessity, thanks to the bar being so crowded, especially in the throwing zone. Whistling casually, he let his arm creep up and settle onto her shoulders, earning him a pointed look, but thankfully she didn’t try to pull away. They stood like a real-life, honest-to-God couple while Hallie took her turn—a throw that nearly ended up in the ceiling—and then Julian, whose throw landed in the ring just outside the bull’s-eye. That lack of perfection really seemed to annoy him.

She looked like she wanted to take back her comment. Both Julian and Hallie appeared to be surprised, too, by the statement. Possibly even a little uncomfortable about it? “Meaning . . .” Natalie’s throat worked. “My brother. He . . . rescued me from the fire.” She laughed, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Didn’t I tell you that?”

August was having a hard time hearing over the squeal of tires in his brain. “What fire?”

Was he shouting? “What fire?” he said again, sounding strangled. Feeling strangled.

Everyone remained silent for long moments. Julian became fascinated by the axe-throwing rules posted on the wall, crossing his arms and observing them as if they were a painting in a museum. “Four years ago,” Hallie said finally, quietly. “The fire that went through Napa? It did a lot of damage to Vos Vineyard. Julian and Natalie were home for the harvest when it happened, and they were able to help evacuate their parents, staff, and as much equipment as possible, but Natalie got trapped in—”

It didn’t escape August’s notice that Julian was no longer reading the rules, but watching him very closely instead. Who could blame the guy? August was rapidly losing his cool. Because Natalie had been in danger from a fire four years ago. Really? A fucking fire? He hadn’t even been in the country four years ago. Not close enough to do anything. Thousands of miles away.

Hallie whooped and held up a glass of wine. “I know that’s right.”

August couldn’t even feel the axe in his hand when he picked it up. He turned it over a few times, looked down, and found it shaking. Damn. “Uh, does someone else want to take a turn?”

Having no choice, August made sure no one was standing too close, then threw the weapon—watching with a sour stomach as it landed in the outer ring. No one said anything when he stepped back and gestured for Natalie to take her turn. She looked at him curiously on her way up to the barrier, picking up the handle of her blade. This time, she caught the middle ring, followed by Hallie doing the same. Julian got a bull’s-eye. They were all talking and planning the next round, but August couldn’t concentrate on what was being said. All he could see was Natalie trapped and scared, and he needed to get some air. Now.

She blinked. “Come on, let’s go.” She pulled him through the crowd toward the door. “You’re having a mental breakdown. Either that or you just realized you gave up the chance to ridicule me over a thirty-minute makeup routine, so you’re faking amnesia.”

Christ, he needed to pull himself together. “I remember.” They stepped into the crisp evening, onto the empty sidewalk outside Jed’s, the last remnants of the earlier sunset giving the air a purplish glow. Or maybe he really was just having a mental break. Could air taste purple? “But I was kind of counting on winning.”

Her mouth opened and closed, her stance shifting side to side. “No. It was really scary, but beyond the fact that I triple-check my smoke detectors now, I’m fine.”

Soon as he got back inside.

In fact, he was going to ask him to be his best man.

Her chin lifted. “How do you know there’s a but?”

Lips twitching, she sized him up for a couple of seconds. “We all go it alone in this family. But they . . . were all ready to go it alone long before I was. Now Julian and my mother are getting closer and I’m the independent one. I’m kind of like, hey, remember everyone telling me to get my shit together and go stand on my own two feet? Well, I did. And no one . . . cared or noticed. Now I’m supposed to make this big effort to reconnect? No. I found what I was looking for somewhere else. For a while. And I just want to get it back.”

That caught her off guard and she fumbled through a thank-you.

Holy shit, was he on to something? Did he have the potential to actually help simply by being honest? The barbed wire was still there, along with the desire to hold all of his Sam memories close, but he was determined to make Natalie feel better. If opening up a little about Sam, at least for tonight, was how he accomplished that, he’d do the hard thing. “That’s why Sam and I were so close. He stayed with my family on holidays. My mom sent him birthday cards with twenty-dollar bills tucked inside. My dad took him fishing, even when I wasn’t around. We were brothers.”

Emotion shone in her eyes. “Were you surprised to see his father the other day?”

He appreciated the way she thought it over for a moment. Then, “Yes. It does.”

August cleared his throat hard. “Yeah.”

The evening hummed around them, the buzz coming from inside making the sidewalk seem all the more silent. Intimate. He couldn’t read Natalie’s expression, but he thought there might be a touch of wonder in it for some reason. And then, “I got forced out of my hedge fund in New York,” she blurted. “For making a seriously bad trade that lost the company a lot of money. Like enough to buy three private islands and still throw a party. Lost a lot of respect in the process. I was the youngest partner. The only woman. But overnight, I became a liability and they fired me. My fiancé broke off our engagement because I no longer fit into our world.” She lifted a shoulder and let it drop. “That’s what happened in New York.”

Damn. He couldn’t imagine this woman making a mistake painting her fingernails, let alone one that cost a bunch of suits their mansion funds. And even more pressing, what man in his right goddamn mind would let Natalie Vos get away?

He wanted to shout a bunch of words—“that spineless motherfucker” chief among them—but this was a vulnerable moment for her. Even he could recognize it wasn’t a time for threats and anger, despite the fact that he sorely wanted to let loose on the wrongs done to her. Still, he reined in the burst of adrenaline and kept his voice steady as possible.

Her lips sort of quivered up into a smile.

August smiled back.

And he wasn’t entirely certain, but he was pretty sure they’d made some headway tonight. Not to mention, he’d learned something. When he shared things with Natalie, she shared back. He needed to remember that, because he wanted to know everything going on in her head. Wanted that badly. For now, he was going to bask in the glow of progress with a woman who’d once called him a walking sewage plant.

She was already walking past him with an eye roll. “Just when I thought you might be capable of basic discourse.”

Coming up behind her, he blew a raspberry into her neck. “Told you I’d never let you down.”

She swatted him away. “Your interpretation of letting someone down is ass backward.”

Natalie’s groan mingled with August’s booming laugh on their way back into the bar.

Chapter Twelve

Natalie skidded to a halt on her way across the grounds of Vos Vineyard. Her former colleague and future partner, Claudia, had dropped that good-news bombshell on her, then proceeded to shriek at someone for stealing her cab while Natalie held her breath three thousand miles away.

Why did she even reveal the marriage to Claudia? Now they were discussing August the same way they’d been discussing William Banes Savage—as though he were a means to an end—and she didn’t like that at all. He was a lot more than that. Last night, after she’d returned from axe throwing, she’d lain awake in bed, replaying what he’d told her about Sam. About his own family. How he held these people so close to his heart. Treasured them. What would it be like to mean so much to August? “Never mind,” she croaked. “Set up the meeting for next Friday and I’ll do my best to be there. Worst case scenario, we cancel and tell Savage I’m meeting with someone more important. He’ll be blowing up my phone.”

Natalie’s smile felt stiff. “I never left.”

Claudia snort-laughed. “My Uber is here. I’ll let you know when I’ve got details. Bye.”

For several seconds after she ended the call, Natalie stared down at the device in her hand trying to calm the weirdly unsettled sensation in her middle. A couple of weeks ago, she would have sold her soul for a chance to get back on a plane to New York and meet with a potential investor. Her trust fund would establish the new firm, but they would quickly need clout. They would need someone to come on board and send a signal to other investors that Natalie and Claudia were not only a safe play, but a shiny new endeavor.

But leaving only six days after the wedding?

Of course, she wouldn’t be leaving for good. Just long enough to meet with William Banes Savage. Could she sneak out of St. Helena for a couple of days without the masses taking note? Would it hurt their chances of appearing legitimate if she left on a solo trip less than a week after tying the knot?

How would August feel about it?

Natalie swallowed hard and kept walking toward her destination—the Vos wine cave.

It’s not like they were going on a honeymoon or anything, right? Business was business.

Eventually, she’d be leaving permanently and August was well aware of that. This was what they’d both signed up for. Temporary.

She took a hasty turn into the production facility, smiling at the employees who glanced over. After they got over the surprise of seeing her there, they nodded back, returning to their tasks. Harvest had taken place toward the end of the summer, followed by the pressing of the grapes. Now, firmly into fall, they were in the fermentation phase, which was a very careful science that could take months. Row after row of barrels were racked on their sides, employees carefully stirring the natural yeast to keep it from settling at the bottom of the wooden vessels, giving the wine oxygen, cultivating the flavor.

Natalie journeyed past them to the rear of the facility, opened the metal door, and started the long trek down four flights of stone stairs. When she reached the bottom, the scent of wet mushrooms tickled her nose and the sight of thousands of aging wine bottles greeted her, along with even more barrels. Tables were arranged throughout the cave for guests who toured the winery and wanted to explore the grounds beyond getting tipsy at the welcome center.

Did Zelnick Cellar have a wine cave? She needed to ask August about that. A lot of wineries in Napa had one, though they ranged in size. Maybe he could bring her on a tour of his underground cellar. Not that she wanted to be alone in the dark with him, it was purely out of professional curiosity, since she was now, technically, an employee of his vineyard—

Her heart jumped into her throat when she heard voices approaching from deep in the cave. Corinne and . . . was that Julian?

Corinne looked startled at her daughter’s sudden appearance, but Julian only seemed curious to find her there. “Shouldn’t you be at your final fitting?” Corinne demanded to know. “It’s not easy to find a tailor willing to make alterations on a wedding dress practically overnight.”

Before Julian could answer, Corinne spoke again. “You never explained what you were doing down here.”

Natalie jerked a shoulder. “I don’t know. I just came for the quiet.”

That was partially true. As a kid, she liked to sneak down to the wine cave and sit with her back pressed up against the chilly stone wall. She’d sit there for hours imagining a search party being formed to find her up above on the surface. She’d fantasize about how relieved everyone would be if and when they actually found her. They’d snatch her up in a big hug and make her promise never to hide away again without telling anyone where she’d gone.

That fantasy never came true, but pretending made her feel better.

This afternoon, she hadn’t come down to the cave to fantasize about a worried posse of loved ones searching for her with flaming torches through swamps and valleys. No, she’d come to do a little soul searching. She’d stopped in town today to buy a couple of bottles of wine . . . but drove away empty-handed. Drinking wine had become a coping mechanism rather than a tool of enjoyment. If she really thought about it, she hadn’t enjoyed wine at all in weeks. Soon, her trust fund would be released and she would need a clear head to take advantage of the opportunity. Her only one.

Natalie wondered if she’d imagined that tiny smile. Heaven knew Corinne wasn’t happy about Natalie getting hitched to August. “Yes, I’m aware. And . . . sure. I’ll stop by after dinner.”

Her mother inclined her head. “Ingram Meyer was the first to RSVP. He holds your trust fund in his hands, lest you need reminding. It won’t reflect well if you appear to have no idea what’s going on tomorrow.”

This was why she drank. “Understood.” Before Corinne could remind her of any more pressing responsibilities, Natalie continued, “I’m packed and ready to vacate the guest house. Hallie offered to drop my things off at August’s place this morning while I attended the fitting, so I’m sure that mission was completed promptly and on time.”

Julian snorted. In an affectionate way. His girlfriend didn’t operate under the constraints of time and clocks and calendars. As a result, his inclination to schedule every second of the day had begun to wane. Drastically. And he appeared to be quite happier for the change. Why, he wasn’t even wearing a tie and were those . . . flip-flops adorning his feet?

Before she could comment on her brother’s startling choice in footwear, Corinne cleared her throat. “We’re discussing business right now, Natalie.”

Natalie plastered a smile on her face, refusing to let the hurt of dismissal show. “Julian, when you have a chance, shoot me the name of that imaging service you were speaking about. I’m just curious.”

It’s fine.

Next Friday night was right around the corner. That was when she would prove herself.

That was when she would shine.

God knew she was never meant to do that here.

* * *

August propped a picture of Sam against the gravestone, sat back, and cracked open a cold one. “Cheers, buddy.”

He’d woken up even earlier than usual this morning to make the drive down to San Joaquin Valley National Cemetery, where Sam was buried. Calling his parents and informing them of the news about his wedding had been fun. Fun like a root canal. His ears were still ringing from his mother’s outraged screech. They were on a cruise to Alaska—which he didn’t even know was a thing—and obviously couldn’t make it to St. Helena by tomorrow. He’d managed to escape with what remained of his hearing by promising to bring Natalie to Kansas to meet them soon.

Maybe he should just crawl into one of these graves right now, because he didn’t know when or even if he’d be pulling that off. But it sure was nice to think about. Considering they were both tough as nails, Natalie and his mother would probably square off across the dinner table, refusing to blink. August was here for it.

Propping himself up from behind with his left fist, he lifted the beer to his lips with his right hand, tracing the name on the gravestone with his eyes. “I came here to ask you something important, man. Will you walk me down the aisle?”

Sam stared back at him from the glossy photograph, half smiling. August had snapped the shot with his phone at the end of day one of BUD/S training, where they’d met. Sam looked dog-tired in the photo, but there was a touch of exhilaration there, too, like he was relieved to get through the first twenty-four hours.

He listened for a minute, trying to imagine what Sam would say.

The wind drifted through the sunny cemetery, rustling the trees.

He swiped at his eyes and shifted into a different position.

August listened to the wind.

Beer empty, he let the bottle tip sideways in the grass, then decided to do the same himself, lying with his cheek pressed to the ground.

He rolled over onto his back and looked up into the clouds, sighing a little when one of them took the shape of Natalie’s lips.

When his voice cracked, he knew it was time to go.

With one more hard clearing of his throat, August rolled back up into a sitting position, collected the picture, folded it on the crease, and carefully tucked it into his pocket. “I’ll be back soon, if you’re lucky.” He fist-bumped the gravestone. “Love you, man. Wish me luck.”

Chapter Thirteen

It was the antithesis of how Natalie had pictured her wedding.

The theme of her thwarted nuptials had been modern. Chic, black-tie, smoky jazz, and chandeliers. A rooftop ceremony at dusk, followed by champagne and mingling with colleagues. Making professional inroads at her own wedding had been a given. Although, in a manner of speaking, she was doing the same here. Marrying in the name of returning to the world of finance. The fast-paced, often ugly, no-time-to-cry business of investing.

But she never, not once, envisioned herself getting married in St. Helena in the front yard where she had once woken up beneath an overturned unicycle and Ludacris blaring from her Bluetooth speaker. Don’t get her wrong, the setting was unmatched. Mount St. Helena was clear as a bell in the distance, smothered in sunshine. The vineyard seemed to be putting its best foot forward today, rows of lush greens and rich browns rolled out like shiny ribbons in the flattering afternoon light.

Natalie walked around the perimeter of the tent where the reception would take place into the evening. It was smaller than she’d expected, based on her mother’s description, thank God. She’d convinced her mother to keep the guest list on the intimate side and for once, they hadn’t argued about it, though only one man on the list seemed to matter today—Ingram Meyer. At least to Natalie and August. For Corinne, the wedding was as much about image as it was about helping them succeed. Wasn’t it?

A hundred yards ahead, Natalie could see Hallie bustling around in ripped jean shorts and a sky-blue halter top, securing big, bright boughs of crimson roses to the aisle chairs where the ceremony itself would start in about an hour.

Natalie didn’t even have her dress on yet.

Hair and makeup was done—she’d taken care of that herself.

Everything was being handled. All she needed to do was get fake married.

Just get through today, stay married for one month to make the union believable and not blemish the Vos name with a scandal. Then she’d be on her way.

It took Natalie several moments to realize she was scanning the yard for August.

Shouldn’t he be here, with only an hour to go before the ceremony?

Had he changed his mind?

When they’d parted ways two nights ago after axe throwing, everything had seemed fine. Meaning she’d called him a lumbering twat and he’d made kissing noises at her until she’d slammed the door of her Uber on him. All perfectly normal.

Funny, while pondering the possibility that August had gone AWOL, she didn’t immediately think of her trust fund. She was kind of . . . worried? That maybe he was having a hard time going through with the wedding without Sam?

She reached into the pocket of her robe and took out her phone, smoothing her thumb over the glass screen. Should she call him? See if he needed to chat? As little as a week ago, the very idea of holding a conversation of any length with the world’s worst winemaker would have been laughable. And hey, they weren’t best friends now or anything. Ha! That would be the day. But talking to him didn’t quite suck as much as it had before? It was kind of nice how she could be as mean and sarcastic as she wanted and he simply rose to the occasion. She didn’t have to pretend. She’d even been honest with him about her family woes and afterward, she’d been just a little bit lighter.

Maybe pretending to be married to him wouldn’t end in World War III.

It wouldn’t be a walk in the park, either. But they might not kill each other.

Right as Natalie was preparing to call her missing fiancé, his truck roared into the parking lot and skidded to a halt, kicking up a dust cloud. Everyone on the lawn stopped and turned to watch the giant groom climb out of his truck—carefully cradling a marmalade-colored cat to his chest, patting its head soothingly.

Menace was here. Wearing a cat tuxedo.

Natalie ducked back behind the tent to laugh, getting it out of her system as quickly as possible, before schooling her features. When she heard August exchange a hello with Hallie, she stepped out into the open.

August spotted her, jerked back, and held the cat up in front of his face. “Jesus Christ, Natalie. I’m not supposed to see you.”

She implored the sky for patience. “You’re not supposed to see me in the dress, August.”

Still he didn’t lower the cat. “That’s not the dress?”

Natalie shook her head at him. Too bad so many locals were within earshot, setting up tables inside the tent, caterers arranging champagne flutes and place settings. “You look very nice in your tuxedo, as well.”

The lie detector test determines . . . that is not a lie.

August Cates was fine. Rugged. Totally at ease with his enormous body and thick muscles, which were accentuated to perfection in the starched black jacket and pants. She could tell he’d shaved, but growth was already apparent on his cut jaw and upper lip, somehow making the bow tie look softer. Like it could be whipped off at any moment. He’d tried to tame his hair, but the wind in his truck must have gotten hold of it, because some pieces were refusing to stay in line. Honestly, though, who cared about hair when his shoulders could seat a party of four?

He sauntered closer, his right hand stroking the cat’s back absently. “Yeah, I can see you like me in a tux, princess.”

She smirked at him, hoping the heat in her cheeks wasn’t turning them red. “Nice of you to show up.”

His smile showed off a row of strong, white teeth. “Were you able to get a dress made of Dalmatian fur on short notice?”

She couldn’t seem to stop moving as he turned the laminated picture over in his hand, reading the words that were printed there. Then back. Right side up again. He said nothing, just looked down at the small card with his brow puckered.

He moved quickly, his firm mouth pressing to hers and cutting her off mid-sentence, staying there for a long moment while neither one of them seemed to breathe. “No, it’s not,” he said, releasing her lips, but staying close. So close she’d tilted her head all the way back to receive the kiss. “This isn’t small, princess.”

She couldn’t think of an adequate response to that and talking at all seemed like it might be difficult, so she just nodded, the pressure on her chest increasing the longer he held her eyes, searching them.

That gave her serious pause. Was he joking? “Did you?”

August held up the cat’s paw in a little wave and strolled past her toward the house. “I don’t know, did I?”

Her intended had just moved out of earshot when her phone buzzed in her pocket.

When she saw her father’s name on the screen, the warm fuzzies she’d—admittedly—gotten from her conversation with August vanished. It couldn’t be a coincidence that he’d called on her wedding day. She stepped into a small tent at the edge of the property that appeared to be set up as a coat check. And she answered.

There was a short burst of Italian on the other end, then Dalton’s voice came through clear. “Natalie.” His sigh was woven with resignation. “You’re going to call off this ridiculous spectacle immediately. What are people going to think when I’m not in attendance at my own daughter’s wedding?”

That rendered her momentarily speechless. “Who told you I was getting married? I know damn well it wasn’t my mother.”

His long-suffering sigh was interrupted by someone else speaking to him in Italian, a woman this time. Dalton responded to her in kind. Before he spoke again, Natalie knew she wouldn’t get a satisfying answer to her question. But she never could have expected what he said instead. “Is this what you want, Natalie? To force my hand?” A pause ensued. “Fine. Call off the wedding and I’ll release your trust fund.”

And she would be best served marrying August. Because she would hate herself for the rest of her life if she gave in, took the easy road, after Dalton had abandoned them. Without apology or regret. It was more than resentment that kept her from outright agreeing to take her trust fund in exchange for jilting August, though. She couldn’t quite describe the nausea that roiled in her stomach at the thought of calling off this wedding. Was she actually . . . excited to walk down the aisle, because of the man who would be waiting at the end?

No way she was going to answer that definitively. Not even to herself.

One thing she did know, this piece of work she called a father wasn’t going to insult a man who’d literally stopped in his tracks on the way out of town and stayed to help her.

Not a chance.

She stood up and started to pace.

* * *

August’s palms started to sweat at the very moment the wedding march started.

All right, this was really happening.

This was his wedding day. August had never imagined his own wedding, per se. But he’d always assumed his parents would be there. Sam, too. He’d figured on a lot more people in naval uniforms and fewer people in statement scarves. He didn’t know anyone in attendance very well. Julian stood to his right, giving him a steady professor look that caused August a beat of panic. Did he forget to turn in his homework? No, this was his wedding day and he . . . needed some reassurance. Someone to smack him in the head and remind him he was marrying a ten.

Because he was. That was what he really needed. To see Natalie. She knew him. They knew each other. She was his closest friend in the tent, for better or for worse.

I’ll make it for better. Won’t I?

Yeah, you will, said Sam’s voice in his head. You’re more than stubborn enough.

August’s hand automatically rose to his pocket, his pulse calming when he felt the outline of the laminated picture—

Oh shit.

Oh . . . shit.

August’s emotions were raw to begin with, but when Natalie appeared at the top of the aisle, the breath quite literally fled from his lungs. He thought she’d looked incredible in the robe. But now? Why was he getting emotional over a fucking dress? It had no significance to him. It was expensive looking, with long, flowing, sort of see-through material on the bottom and a sparkly . . . boob booster on top? It didn’t have straps, just a tight section of sparkling beads that pushed up her tits.

How was he just supposed to act normal when she looked this way? The combination of the dress and her hair and makeup . . . this was a bride.

His bride.

She was walking toward him on a satin runner, all by herself, no man to guide her there. Was she all right coming down the aisle alone? He wished they’d discussed that. Julian could have done it, right? So maybe she wanted to do it alone? Natalie’s brother stood across from Hallie, who held a bouquet of roses and baby’s breath in her hands. A lot like Natalie’s, but much smaller.

His future wife was halfway down the aisle now. Getting more and more beautiful with every step she took. Damn, even her shoes were sparkly.

The music swelled along with August’s throat.

How did he get here? How? He had no earthly clue, but he knew one thing. The richest man in the world couldn’t pay him to be anywhere else.

Especially when Natalie’s eyes found his and held on, as if gathering strength. She was nervous. Sweat was slipping down his spine, so yeah, he could relate. They shared an exaggerated breath while staring at each other and . . .

Jesus Christ, was he crying?

Yeah. Actual moisture flooded his eyes. Too much to blink away.

Natalie paused ever so slightly, looking dumbfounded.

The tent full of strangers laughed. Except for Julian, who August could feel staring at him, speculating. Corinne sat in the front row, Menace curled at her feet, looking back and forth between August and Natalie and for some reason, her shoulders seemed to relax over whatever she saw. August would have given a million dollars to find out what it was, because he had no idea what was happening in his chest. A fucking racket, that’s what.

She’d brought him a picture of Sam.

She’d printed it out, found the hymn. Had it all laminated.

Until she handed over the card, he’d had no idea how badly he needed it. Again, he felt the slight weight of it behind his pocket square and it calmed him. Someone had his back. The person he’d grown to trust the most out of anyone in his life . . . was present. In his thoughts, if not physically. And he had the woman in front of him to thank.

The woman clutching her flowers with white knuckles.

Calm her down.

She looked like she wanted to clock him over the head with her bouquet.

But at least the blood was back in her fingers.

Damn. He had it so bad.

Chapter Fourteen

Natalie watched in horror as August unfolded the piece of paper that he’d removed from the pocket of his tuxedo. Yellow legal-pad paper, to be exact, on which lines had been crossed out and arrows had been drawn.

It looked like the first draft of a football playbook.

What in God’s actual name was he going to say?

More importantly, had she actually passed on an offer to get her trust fund and remain single? With her money in hand, she probably could have even afforded to reimburse Corinne for the catering. Sure, the last-minute flake out wouldn’t have been good for her relationship with Corinne or the Vos family reputation, but neither of those things were stellar at the moment to begin with!

Although, wow. If she’d taken the money and skedaddled, she would have missed the sight of August in front of an altar—a portable one, sure—looking at her in a wedding dress with total, unabashed awe. It wasn’t every day a girl was privy to that compelling of a moment.

My goodness, he’s beautiful, too. A big, beautiful, battle-worn presence.

She’d meant every word she’d said to her father. God help her. What now?

Follow through on her word to the man. She owed him that. He deserved that much.

But that was all she could offer. All he could expect.

They were halfway through the traditional vows when August cleared his throat and flattened the wrinkled paper on his thigh. Out of the corner of her eye, Natalie noticed her mother shifting nervously in her seat. She knew August was a loose cannon who never tried to hide his disdain for St. Helena’s elite and every guest at this wedding fit that profile, including Ingram Meyer.

August reached for the microphone and the pastor handed it over with a glance toward the wedding planner. He shrugged. August cleared his throat directly into the mic, sending a trill of feedback through the tent and a smattering of murmurs. “Natalie Vos. Wow. Here we are. Getting married.” He turned the paper toward her so she could see he’d written those exact words, before going back to reading. “I promise to take your side in every argument—unless it’s the one you’re having with me, then it’s fair game. But the point I’m trying to make is that we might fight . . .” He scanned the room with a pointed look. “But God help anyone else who tries to fight with you. They will answer to me.”

Oh . . . my God. Why were her eyes burning?

This wasn’t even real. Why did his speech feel . . . important?

Why did the whole day feel significant?

There was more.

A whole second half of a page. He couldn’t seem to continue, though. Maybe because the guests were so silent. Maybe he got self-conscious. Whatever the reason, August coughed into his fist, folded up the paper hastily, and shoved the vows back into his pocket. “We can keep going now,” he said with a brief smile, handing the microphone back to the pastor.

Instead, Natalie just dropped her bouquet of flowers, took a lunging step, and kissed him. Smack on the mouth, right there in front of everyone, her hands smoothing up the lapels of his black dress jacket. “Are you kissing me because of what I said about your tits, princess? Because I meant it. They are hot as sh—”

She kissed him again, ignoring the dangerous stinging behind her eyes. The kiss threatened to grow more intense until August squeezed her waist and broke away with a low whistle, his eyelids at half-mast.

They finished reciting the words that officially made them husband and wife, but she stumbled over every single sentence, thanks to the way August was looking at her.

* * *

Apparently, the bride and groom didn’t get to spend a whole lot of time together at the wedding. File that under information August hadn’t been unaware of until today.

At least, they never got to be alone.

Everyone else under the tent seemed to be getting tons of face time with Natalie and he wasn’t even going to pretend not to be jealous. Whenever he got her attention, someone came by and struck up a conversation with her. Men. Women. Children. Even the cat was in her lap for a while, rolled over on its back like a lazy queen.

Obviously everyone wanted to talk to his wife, she looked like a fucking angel.

In sixty years, when he thought back on his wedding, he was going to remember this—chasing her around the candlelit tent just trying to get her alone. So he could . . . what?

He wasn’t even positive this wedding meant anything to Natalie. Not the way it meant something to him. If her motives went beyond unlocking her trust fund, they remained unclear. And he wanted to know where he stood with this woman every time he looked at her. Starting today, he’d do everything in his power to make it happen.

August-style, of course.

August shook the man’s free hand. “Yes, I believe the last time we met, you told me not to let the door hit me in the tuchus on my way out of the bank.”

A prickle rode up the back of August’s neck. “Natalie and I are grateful to her.”

Did I?

Yeah, he guessed he had. The whole night was a blur of anything but . . . her.

The way she’d smiled. Her smoke-and-flowers scent.

How he’d lost his balance the moment he saw her and never got it back.

Ingram considered both of them in turn. “What a nice story.” He took his time taking a bite of cake, chewing it while looking over the crowd. “Corinne invited me to dinner at the vineyard on Monday night. I’m looking forward to hearing more about how this union came to be.” He tipped his straw hat to Julian and August. “Enjoy your night.”

Julian shook his head. Sighed. “You’re in love with her.”

Suddenly, August couldn’t swallow.

The music swelled in his ears.

Was he in love with Natalie? No idea. If the key to her happiness was at the bottom of the ocean, he’d strap on some flippers and goggles to dive down and get it. If she showed any signs of illness, even a common cold, he would consider bringing her to the ER. If she asked him to dress like Zack Morris at Halloween so she could dress like Kelly Kapowski . . . he’d already have suggested it first. Did all of that equal love?

To him? Yes.

He loved her. Really, really bad.

It couldn’t have seemed less natural for Julian to lay his arm across August’s shoulders, but he did. Briefly. “I have faith in you.” He stepped back. “I also have faith that she wouldn’t have gone through with this unless something was there.”

When Julian returned to his girlfriend’s side, August picked up an uneaten plate of food from one of the tables and dug into it with a tiny fork. Cold sea bass was not the most appetizing of choices, but God knew he’d eaten worse.

How to get Natalie’s attention. How to get . . .

The DJ booth released a slow plume of fog out onto the dance floor.

August smiled mid-chew, finally landing on a plan.

A few minutes later, the opening strains of “Brick House” filled the tent and Natalie’s shoulder blades twitched, then she was turning around and sending daggers at him with her eyes. He only winked back. When the lyrics kicked in, August strutted out onto the dance floor and pointed directly at his new wife with an open challenge. At first, he was positive she was going to throw the closest heavy object at his head, but to his everlasting happiness, she joined him in the center of the floor, causing the drunk guests in attendance to applaud.

August unbuttoned his tuxedo jacket with a flourish and dropped it on the dance floor, moving on to the cuff links next. Rolling up his sleeves. And then he started to dance—although even he could admit that that term should be used loosely when applied to his series of exaggerated disco moves and jump spins. Not to mention a lot of finger guns. He’d developed this routine years ago as a way to shake the malaise that often overcame his team when they’d been away from their families too long and, frankly, it was ridiculous. But it was him, whereas this wedding was definitely not.

Not unless he counted Natalie.

This woman was . . . him. She was why he’d come.

Her eyes shot to his, a furrow appearing in her brow. As if trying to decipher whether or not he was putting her on. “The only reason I’m going to dance with you right now is this. My mother picked ‘(I’ve Had) The Time of My Life’ from Dirty Dancing as our first dance song. I don’t know what in the hell she was thinking. Everyone expects a lift at the end of that song. Or a dancing flash mob. She clearly didn’t think it through.”

Natalie’s mouth dropped open.

Natalie was already shaking her head. “This dress has about forty pounds of crystals sewn into it. I would have knocked you out.”

They were in the middle of the dance floor having this conversation, and August was pretty damn sure Natalie had no idea she was dancing. As if he didn’t already find this woman attractive beyond human comprehension, she had to go and look good cutting a rug, too. Just effortless and fluid and sexy. In rhythm. How was it even fair?

He winked at her. “You’re damn right, princess.”

She pitched toward him, laughing. “Do you think they’ll give us lollipops if we’re brave enough in the emergency room?”

Natalie jolted slightly. “Oh my God, I’m Natalie Cates now.”

His bow tie was suddenly way too tight. “It has a certain ring to it.”

The shake it down, shake it down now portion of the song started and he hit the running man while she effortlessly worked the Batusi. Shit, he was falling deeper for her the longer this song went on. His team would love her. They’d worship the ground she walked on for not putting up with his crap but occasionally giving in, wouldn’t they? “We’re doing the lift.”

He scoffed. “You seriously think I would ever drop you? My beloved wife?”

This time when she laughed, her eyes were sparkling, the sound piercing him right in the middle of his chest. Although he wondered if she would be laughing if she knew he wasn’t laying it on all that thick. She danced for another few seconds, then rolled her eyes up at the ceiling. “Fine, we’ll try it. But if I end up with an injury, you’ll be waiting on me hand and foot until I’ve healed.”

If the music wasn’t blasting, August was pretty sure he’d have heard Natalie gulp. “You’d wait on me hand and foot?”

He pressed and dragged his thumbs along the curve of her hip bones, tugging her close by the skirt of the wedding dress.

She huffed an incredulous laugh. “Pretty sure that’s a prize for you.”

He brought his mouth to her ear and felt his own eyelids grow heavy at the waft of her scent. “No lies detected. I’m gonna love going down on you, princess.”

Her quick release of breath bathed his throat, making his stones feel weighty, the nape of his neck beginning to sweat. “That’s . . . your prize?” she asked, finally, her tone threadbare.

The song ended.

She shoved away from him with a flushed face.

Applause broke out from the perimeter of the dance floor, startling her. And it gratified August to no end that when she was alarmed, she reached for him instinctively, fingers curling in the starched white material of his shirt. Before she could recover and step away from him again, August wrapped an arm around her waist and tugged her closer, leaning over to plant a kiss on the crown of her head, the wedding photographer snapping away with pops of light.

Oh yeah. His heart boomed. They were in this.

The applause and whistles died and Natalie eased away, leaving the dance floor with a wary backward glance in August’s direction. Correction: he was in this.

In order to get his heart off the chopping block, he needed to bring her along.

Starting with an overhead lift. Jesus.

On the way off the floor, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and started googling.

Chapter Fifteen

The limousine ride back to August’s home was short.

But effective.

Everything today involving this man classified as potent.

She couldn’t even blame it on the champagne, because she’d barely stopped talking long enough to drink two glasses. After they’d walked out of the reception and everyone threw handfuls of obligatory rice at them, August had pulled her into his lap in the back of the limousine and proceeded to pick the tiny, white grains out of her hair, his fingertips brushing the nape of her neck repeatedly. Out of self-preservation, she’d crawled over to the opposite seat, giving him an affronted look.

But the damage was already done.

She was turned on by her fake husband.

Not just buzzing with an electrical current of attraction, either. This was a full-on meteor shower of hormones, the likes of which she’d never experienced in her life. Not for her former fiancé. Not for anyone.

She needed to shut this down immediately.

This was a marriage inspired by advantages. Money. Eventually it would be over and they would walk away, hopefully better off than they started. This was not a long-term situation and introducing the complications of sex was a very, very bad idea.

God forbid it turned out to be good.

What would she do then?

Don’t pretend you don’t already know it would be good.

The fact that August had even mentioned her clit boded extremely well, let’s be honest. It wasn’t something that typically rolled off a man’s tongue—before or during the act—unless he valued the woman’s pleasure as much as his own. She would not have assumed that about the hulking SEAL who had somehow gotten red wedding cake frosting in his hair, even though they’d both been handed forks.

On the other hand, maybe it was a signal that he did excel at . . . giving pleasure?

They slowed to a stop in front of his house and the driver alighted, his footsteps on the gravel loud in the sudden silence. “I think we should put this bet off until we’re both totally sober.”

An eyebrow went up. “You had one, maybe two, glasses of champagne, Natalie.”

Had he really been paying that close attention? “If that’s true, why am I considering a dangerous dance lift with oral sex as the prize?”

A grin spread across his mouth. “Maybe you’re drunk on my charisma.”

The door of the limousine opened and August exited, cat cradled in his left arm, reaching in to help her out. He released her from his grip only long enough to tip the driver a twenty and throw him a salute, before recapturing Natalie’s hand and guiding her up the steps of the house.

She was in his arms being carried over the threshold.

She snorted and tried not to enjoy herself.

Charged silence took up the air around them. “Okay.”

He finally set her down, but only so he could slap his hands over his eyes. “I’m a shit gift giver. I’m absolutely awful at it. When I was seven, I gave my mother a pancake for Mother’s Day. Only, I’d been planning ahead, so it had been wrapped in my closet for three weeks. I haven’t gotten any better.” He gestured to her room. The door was open and she could see a frame propped on the small nightstand. “I framed a ticket stub from Wine Down Napa—you know, the event where we met?” He shook his head. “You’d probably rather forget that night.”

Had she swallowed a fistful of feathers? “No. That was a good night,” she murmured, recalling the first time she’d seen him in his Kiss the Vintner apron, a head taller than everyone in the room. That booming laugh. “But you were an exhibitor at Wine Down. You wouldn’t have needed a ticket. Where did you find this one?”

He jerked a big shoulder. “I might have asked a few people.” He coughed. “Few dozen.”

Oh my.

Hello, understatement. A few minutes ago, she’d been intent on redrawing the boundaries and battle lines of this relationship. Now she was throwing her common sense in the dumpster because of a framed ticket stub.

Maybe this annoying attraction to August had simply built to a fever pitch. Toss in the undisputed fact that Napa weddings could make a corpse feel romantic, let alone a warm-blooded woman, and her immunity to him was currently paper thin. Whatever the reason, she wanted an excuse to be touched by him and this was the perfect opportunity. Even if she ended the night on a gurney in the back of an ambulance.

You won’t.

You know you won’t.

August wouldn’t drop her. Ever. End of story. Was that why she wanted to do the lift? Did she enjoy the way he made her feel physically safe? Maybe. Yes. It was refreshing to have that confidence in another person. A rarity. So she backed across the kitchen, all the way to the far corner, to give herself enough running space. And then she went for it.

Ran right toward him in a wedding dress and heels.

The man didn’t even blink.

He simply caught her around the waist and lifted her up over his head, turning her in a slow circle, giving her a lopsided smile from below.

Holy hell.

His mouth was close. Very close. The fingertips of his right hand traced her cheekbone, their lips gravitating toward each other until they were trading breaths. “I win,” he rasped, touching the tip of his tongue to the center of her upper lip. “Promise it’ll feel like we both did, though. Yeah, Natalie?”

Was she nodding?

She let him take her wrist and hustle her down the hallway, past the bathroom to his bedroom. He drew her inside, kicking the door shut with a definitive slam. And then they were making out. Although was that really the proper term for the way they were mauling each other? Hands seeking and clutching and exploring while his tongue swept deep in her mouth, turning her delirious.

August walked her back to the bed and down she went, his thick forearm snaking beneath her hips and pulling her up the bed until the back of her head landed on a pillow. His heavy body pinned her in place like he damn well belonged there. And in that moment, he did. He belonged there like air belonged in her lungs.

He wasted no time bringing his mouth down on hers again, groaning while angling his head right. The sides of their noses mashed together as his hands gathered the hem of her wedding dress higher and higher. Up her calves. Knees. Oh God. When the heavy skirt scraped up her thighs, he lifted his hips to move the bunched material out of the way and dropped his lower body into the cradle of her open legs, firm bearing down on soft. Pushing. They both cursed, Natalie’s breath escaping in a trembling rush.

His face buried in her neck with a strangled growl. “Natalie, I want to fuck you so bad, I’m surprised God didn’t strike me down when I walked into that tent today.” He rolled his hips and the friction made Natalie’s vision go black. “But I could fuck you until your thighs turn into rubber and you’d still hate yourself for giving in when the sun comes up. Until I know for damn sure that you’ll wake up beside me without regrets, you only get my tongue.”

She couldn’t argue with his point.

If she broke her no-sex rule on night one, hour one, she’d chalk the indiscretion up to temporary wedding hysteria or bad decision making. Or she’d tell herself she’d scratched the itch and it couldn’t happen again. August didn’t seem to want her to have regrets.

August was already talking like there would be a next time?

A mixture of panic and relief had her nearly gasping.

Of course he was talking in the future tense.

What man wouldn’t want built-in benefits to any relationship?

Her thoughts scattered like broken necklace beads when he reached between their lower bodies and gripped her sex hard, sawing his middle finger through her panties, along that sensitive valley. Parting her, wetting her. “You’d love to get filled the fuck up. I know. But I promise you, princess, this is going to be a hell of a consolation prize.”

This wasn’t her first time at the rodeo. A few men had tried their God’s honest best down there. Techniques had been employed, toys had been engaged, and once, even edible lube had entered the mix to no success. Just sticky sheets and the artificial smell of banana hanging in the air of her bedroom for a week. But she remembered the way August had touched her in the shower and how he’d gotten the drop on her, so she braced herself, taking two fistfuls of the comforter. She was going to be prepared this time—

He quickly worked the front buttons of his shirt and tossed the garment away, followed by the no-nonsense stripping of his tight, white undershirt, the rigid flex of hard-earned muscle causing her fists to yank the sheets, her high heels to dig into the mattress.

August pushed her thighs open and dropped down onto his front, one big knee digging into the bed and pushing forward. His open mouth met her flesh and he suctioned it, the entire thing, moaning, before delving his tongue between her folds again, raking it from entrance to apex, where his lavish attention made her eyes cross. His tongue stroked her clit like it was his long-lost love. Not hurried, just thorough. So thorough. Damn. Damn.

In the space of a minute, the whole situation went from cautious optimism to imminent blastoff. She was on a roller coaster, cranking vertically to the highest point of the ride. Preparing to take the plunge. Her stomach turned weightless and a ticklish throb began way down deep, back where she’d never felt it before. This wasn’t going to be like one of her self-inflicted orgasms. It was going to build and build and bury her, wasn’t it? Oh God, oh God.

He nodded, squeezing her thigh. Why was that intimate reassurance so sexy?

Right there.

I can’t believe I’m this wet.

And he was living for it, using her readiness to his advantage. He pumped two huge fingers inside of her while flicking his tongue against her clit. Oh. Mama. Was he serious? “Babe, please,” she panted, no idea who she was calling babe. But saying it again, anyway, in the next breath, because what else to call a man making her feel this good? Her whole body was surface-of-the-sun level hot. Knees shaking. Throat strained like she’d just left a Harry Styles concert. Had she been screaming? Was she screaming now? “Harder, babe. Please. Okay?”

What was she asking for?

No idea.

But he gave it to her, almost completely pulling out his fingers, then thrusting them deep and holding them there while his licks turned rougher. Pinpricks of light appeared in her vision, forming constellations on the ceiling, and she tipped her head back, letting the pleasure plow through. Unequivocal hedonism. That’s what this was.

With strands of his hair wrapped around her fingers, she raked her hips side to side against his mouth and he kept his tongue stiff for her, adapting on the fly, trusting her to know what she wanted in that moment of euphoria, also known as the best climax of her life. She was trembling and mumbling to herself when she came down from the highest peak. August kissed the insides of her thighs, looking like he was already considering round two, shoulder muscles bunching as if he was just waiting for the green light.

Right. Great. She’d been talking out loud.

How thoroughly had this man scrambled her brain?

In the middle of kissing her thigh, he smirked.

This couldn’t stand. The night could not end like this.

He’d have the upper hand and he would be insufferable. She’d totally lost herself in the act and he would miss no opportunity to remind her how she’d essentially erupted like Vesuvius, called him an endearment, and lost power to her limbs. Minutes later and her legs were limp. Resting on his shoulders. When did that happen?

There was only one way to even the scales.

His mouth paused in the act of nuzzling the inside of her knee. “Natalie . . .”

Having a purpose breathed new life back into her limp body. She allowed her legs to slide from the rocky slopes of his shoulders onto the bed, gathering herself into a kneel and turning around, gesturing to the zipper of her dress. “Can you help me out of this?”

One of his eyebrows winged up at the T word. “Really?”

She nodded earnestly, giving him her back.

The heat of August’s hands met the area below her shoulder blades. He hesitated with his fingers on the zipper. “What exactly are you wearing under this dress?”

Without him making a sound, his skepticism was obvious. “I know when you are lying.”

She scoffed. “No, you don’t.”

Natalie frowned. Was he right?

His lips parted on a long intake of breath, eyes darkening. “Come here,” he rasped, pulling her backward into his lap and drawing the zipper down slowly. “I’ve got you.”

She had him, too.

Right where she wanted him.

As soon as the opening was loose, she pushed the dress down, lifting her hips to divest herself of the heavy material. She used her foot to slide it off the bed into an ivory heap, her rear end landing soundly back into August’s lap, eliciting a groan.

The corner of her lips ticked up. Gotcha.

She pulled down the cups of her strapless bra and guided his hands there, surprised when they didn’t just grab on or handle her breasts too roughly. She should probably stop being surprised by August now. By the way he gently played with her nipples, dragging his thumbs over them, side to side, his mouth beginning to lick and nip at her neck. Oh. Wow. If she didn’t keep control of this situation, she would wake up tomorrow without the upper hand. She might as well raise the white flag and surrender any leverage she had left.

Climbing off August’s lap, she turned around on her knees, allowing herself a second to savor his choked curse at the sight of her bare breasts—

And then she shoved him onto his back.

She raked a hand up and over the distended crotch of his dress pants, stroking him firmly through the material. “My turn.”

She nodded.

He reached down and started unbuckling his belt.

It shouldn’t have been so hot. Really. It shouldn’t have.

But those big mitts fumbling with the metal buckle and the eager flex of his abdomen made her tongue heavy in her mouth. So eager that she was kissing his stomach, biting the sinew that ran in a downward-pointing V along his hips.

Oh God. When he begged her to bite harder, she wanted to.

Badly.

She sucked a gust of air into her lungs and shot forward, sinking her teeth into the meat of his hip, drawing a shout from August that resonated through her entire body. “Fuck yes,” he growled. There was a brief pause before he lifted his head to look down at her. “Don’t bite my dick, obviously.”

Natalie giggled.

He grinned back. A big, bad warrior with an inconvenient charming side. It was alarming, the severe pinch she felt in her chest at that moment, so she closed her eyes and licked over the rope of muscle that ran along his sides, then down to his belly button, wetting a path through those coarse whorls of his hair. Her right hand delved into his pants and . . . okay, she’d expected this.

Of course it was XL. He was XL.

But she couldn’t even get her hand around him.

Had she ever felt confident during sex before? She’d always assumed so. She even liked to think of herself as adventurous.

But now, with this man almost hyperventilating at the thought of her mouth on him, she felt like a goddess. Seductive. So confident in herself and his imminent enjoyment of her that she was almost purring when she drew August’s shaft out through the opening of his pants.

It swelled further and August bit off a curse, hips twisting right. “Now that’s the reaction a man wants on his wedding night.”

What was her whole plan about keeping the upper hand?

Whatever it was, she couldn’t recall the details. Could only lean in and run her tongue up the side of his gorgeously thick shaft, watching his thigh muscles bunch in response. A burst of steam escaped his flared nostrils. From one lick.

She’d never held a man’s balls in her hand, but instinct had her reaching for August’s, rolling them gently in her palm, and really, there was no way to avoid them, because they were, for lack of a better word, prominent.

Natalie’s confidence climbed higher. Wow, he was really, really enjoying everything she was doing. She didn’t have to wonder if her tongue was in the right place or if she was stroking him too hard in her fist, because August was sending a clear message and it read Holy shit, I’ve never been touched so right. Never felt anything this good.

That fear of rejection or criticism she normally dreaded was quite simply . . . gone.

The absence of that burden made her more eager to give him pleasure, lips traveling past the point she thought possible, not worrying whether or not too much saliva was visible or if it was weird to be moaning while giving someone oral. As if the pleasure was hers.

Wasn’t it, though? With him?

Whoa.

Easy, girl.

Okay, he did not mean the whole love of my life part, obviously. He was just lost in the moment. So why did it make her nearly swallow him whole, her pulse tapping wildly in her temples? Her lips stretched around his ample length and when the tip of him brushed the back of her throat, his knees jerked up, the hand that had been cupping her cheek sinking in her hair now, ruining her updo in a split second.

Her fist moved up and down in rapid strokes, sensing the beginning of his peak. Was she still moaning?

Get a grip on yourself. He didn’t taste that good.

Liar. His taste was singularly incredible.

The scent of that grapefruit soap clung to his pubic hair and wires must be getting crossed in her brain, because smelling the fruit while taking him in her mouth made him almost taste like it, and somehow she knew she’d never pass up grapefruit again at the supermarket.

There was simply no way she could stop now.

Not when he made her smile during a blow job.

That had to deserve some kind of award—and she was in the position to give him one.

Continuing to rapidly fist him up and down, her mouth followed her hand a little lower each time and she heard his breathing stutter, the groan building in his chest. He alternated between squeezing his eyes shut and watching her mouth bring him deep, skate back to the tip, then go deep again. And finally, the veins on his abdomen turned blunt and . . . he . . . roared. Her name.

His spend hit the back of her throat so fast and in such abundance, she had to struggle through swallowing it quickly enough, her hand still busy. Still working his slick shaft. His grip was twisted in her hair, but she could feel him resisting the urge to push her mouth down and hold her in place. And considering the animal state he was in, she found that oddly touching. Was she losing her actual mind?

August deflated, his arms falling to his sides.

His sex remained at half-mast, sticky and smooth. Somehow still appealing.

She preened, testing a palm on his chest, her head on his shoulder.

Just temporarily. Until they caught their breath.

She ignored the flutter trapped in her throat. “Maybe it’s tradition.”

They passed out cold less than ten seconds later.

Chapter Sixteen

August rolled out of bed with a smile on his face.

It took every ounce of strength in his body to ignore the impulse to whistle while pulling on his drawers. Damn. Now that was how two people kicked off a marriage. An oral sex competition where there were no losers.

The sun hadn’t yet risen in the sky, but he was an early bird out of practice. He’d throw some eggs down his gullet, catch a workout behind the barn, and get started on production. But first he stopped at the foot of the bed and admired the view. Watching people sleep was creepy as hell. No one would blame him for stopping to check out his own wife’s ass, though, right? It was in plain view. No panties or anything.

Natalie snored. Good. They’d drown each other out.

He’d once been told by his teammates that he sounded like a grizzly with a cold.

With a smile on his face, August set his egg bowl in the sink and rinsed out the empty glass that had held his orange juice. He high-fived himself and slipped into the front yard, locking the door and testing it twice, now that he had a woman to protect. Stretching an arm across his chest to loosen up the muscle, he strode toward his makeshift workout area, reaching into the barn to flip on the rear light.

Then he got to work on the pullup bar.

Day one as a married man.

Their sexual chemistry was fire. More than life itself, he wanted to go crawl back into that bed with Natalie and kiss her awake. Get between those legs and work himself into a sweat giving her orgasms. Now that was the exercise he really wanted. But something wouldn’t let him take it all the way with Natalie yet. Not until they got on the same page. He wasn’t sure how he would feel if they had sex and she still carried on like their marriage was a sham.

Wrong. He knew exactly how he would feel.

Devastated.

No further proof necessary that he was falling deeper and deeper in love with his wife. That damn bow-wielding cherub had lodged a double arrow in the dead center of his chest. Either it was going to pierce his heart and kill him or give him a new reason to live.

You’re already living for her and you know it.

August dropped down from the pullup bar with a gulp and trod across the flattened grass to his squat rack, which he’d bought off the local gym when they upgraded their equipment. He ducked his head underneath and braced the heavy bar across his shoulders, stepping back and kicking off a round of squats.

He and Natalie couldn’t be that far from reaching common ground, could they?

She’d slept with her back plastered to his chest, thigh to thigh. They might have a lot of shit to work out between them before the marriage was solid—or “real” or whatever—but she was comfortable with him, right? At the very least, she trusted him in her sleep.

Man. He really wanted full trust from her when she was awake, too.

Wanted it with a fierce pain in his stomach.

What was holding her back?

His mission was to figure that out and eliminate whatever it was.

August had just returned the squat bar to the rack when his phone rang. Frowning over who would call him this early, he slipped his phone out of his back pocket, his shoulders tensing slightly at his CO’s name on the screen.

If only. August mentally sighed, flicking a look at his bedroom window. Who would know if he just crept over to the window and took one more quick look at that butt?

A cord pulled in August’s sternum. “That’s . . .” Shit. It hurt to breathe. “You knew him a lot longer than me, of course, but I think . . . I know this would mean a lot to him, sir.”

August tilted his head back and breathed deeply. “I’m going to do my best with the money, sir. I’m not great at this. Not like Sam would have been. But I’m going to try and do you both proud.”

Determination hardened his muscles. “Yes, sir.”

The CO hung up. For long moments, August remained in place with the phone still pressed to his ear. Don’t try, Cates. Just do it.

Yes, that was exactly what he would do. Stop fucking around and create a lasting legacy in Sam’s name. Sam’s honor. Didn’t his friend deserve that? This was up to him. There was no one else who could make this dream happen. No one else who would dedicate the time. This dream was on his shoulders and he needed to focus harder. Make it a reality.

The front door of the house opened and there was Natalie, framed in the doorway. Hair tangled all around her head, his sheet wrapped around her body like a toga. She squinted at him across the misty yard. “I’m having the weirdest dream.” She yawned. “I got up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night and you were working out.”

Her smile was sweet and sleepy. “Arsenic poisoning it is.”

That one might have zinged a little too sharply, based on her flushed cheeks. He was on the verge of apologizing when she said, “I can’t believe I slept with you.”

Why. Why couldn’t he stop antagonizing her? His brain was trying to reach down and clap its hands over his dumbass mouth, but obviously its arms weren’t long enough and it couldn’t reach. “Then I guess I’ll never know it,” she said, shrugging. A beat passed and she looked down at the phone, still in his right hand. “Did I hear you talking to someone?”

Fuck.

His stomach sent a wave of acid up toward his mouth.

His mind gave him a clear road map toward fixing the lie immediately. All it would require is telling her about the investment from his CO.

Easy.

Sure.

He’d just tell Natalie he’d gone through with the marriage because of his feelings for her. That he loved her and was powerless to do anything but help her succeed. Not because of her family’s influence with the local loan officer. She’d be totally fine with that and wouldn’t kick his nut sack at all.

A pause lingered between them, a line popping up between her brows. She took a final look at the phone—he’d lied and she knew it.

Fix it before you cross the line of no return.

Having her suspicious of him was worse than weathering a little anger, right?

Without answering, she turned and slammed the door, leaving him panting out in the cold, his breath forming clouds of condensation around his face. Did that just happen? What was happening? He’d been eating her out less than six fucking hours ago. Now apparently he wasn’t the only thing going south. Their short-lived, unspoken truce was joining him.

He tried the handle, expecting to find it locked, and he wasn’t disappointed.

And that tiny admission set his throat on fire. “Natalie, please. I just want to talk.”

No response.

She’s not angry about the cooking joke, fuckwit. She’s locked you out because you lied and she’s more than smart enough to see through it. “I was on the phone with my CO.” August scrambled to open the call log, got down on his knees, and slid his phone under her door. “We’re both early risers.”

The longer the silence stretched, the more he wanted to bang his head against the door. But finally, there was a low creak of the floorboards in the bedroom, a shifting of shadows. He exhaled inaudibly and closed his eyes, the pressure ebbing slightly from his chest. He needed to tell her the rest. Confess why his CO had called. But he needed to clear up one thing first.

That would be the day. Other women might as well be invisible since he’d met this one.

He dropped his forehead against the door. “Good.”

His shoulders bunched right back up, accompanied by a sharp twist of denial in his middle. “Wrong. There’s only you for me.” God, saying that out loud was like free falling and landing on a cloud. “And there’s only me for you.”

Seconds passed. “I’d rather not.”

August inhaled slowly through his nose, then let it back out. “Babe.”

Was that her breath catching? “Is that a code word now or something?”

She hummed in the affirmative.

The floor had turned into quicksand, and he was sinking. Some of this sounded sickeningly familiar. “It sounds important.”

His stomach felt like a tomato that had been left out in the sun for a week. Holy shit. Natalie’s ex had played mind games with money. Her father continued to do the same. Now he was hiding a two-hundred-thousand-dollar chunk of green from her? Also known as the supposed reason he was marrying her in the first place. She’d gotten married based on how he’d represented himself—a winemaker who’d run out of capital.

That hadn’t been true for nearly a week.

Prior to their whole-ass wedding.

What would she do if he told her the truth now? Nothing good. She was already threatening to fly three thousand miles away and he hadn’t even confessed yet.

August reared back slightly, taking note of the way she held that sheet like a shield and hating it. “Why do you need an investor when your trust fund is being released?”

He didn’t give two craps about how things looked, but he was willing to say just about anything to prevent her from leaving St. Helena when they weren’t yet on solid ground.

Lips parting, she searched his face. “Right. I’m sure you want to get the ball rolling with the small business loan. I’ll call on Monday morning and set up a meeting.”

She took in that information with a deep breath and nodded. Wet her lips. “Okay. That works, too.”

His heart pounded, his arms aching to wrap around her. There was definitely still some new distance between them that he disliked immensely, but their connection was stronger than when she’d opened the door. Right?

He had to test that theory. Or he wouldn’t relax for a single second. He’d be in turmoil.

Propping his forearm on the door, he leaned down very slowly, bringing his mouth within an inch of hers. Turning his head slightly, he nuzzled her nose, brushing their lips together in a way that made them both breathe faster.

Natalie turned her head and their mouths slanted hard over each other, lips opening and seeking, tongues delving. Just once. And then she pulled away, leaving his body hard and his breath coming in harsh pants.

The door slammed. Again. And he couldn’t help but worry that an emotional one had been locked between them, too.

Chapter Seventeen

Natalie woke up for the second time that day, but now it was midafternoon and she was gritty-eyed and disoriented. Her argument with August in the wee hours of the morning felt like a dream, but the queasiness in her stomach told her no, it had definitely happened. She’d attempted to people before coffee, before her brain fully woke up—and she’d acted like a bozo.

Had she really stormed off in a sheet because he wouldn’t initially explain his phone call? Dear God. This marriage was supposed to be a business arrangement. She’d been the one to propose it. And on day one, she’d acted like some kind of jealous lover.

Furthermore, she’d slept in his bed.

As far from a business agreement as one could get.

Nervous energy—and a dire need for distraction—forced Natalie out of the comfortable mess of sheets where she’d fallen asleep around six A.M. Slowly, she creaked open the guest bedroom door and peered out, finding Menace staring back at her curiously from the middle of the kitchen table. But no August. Thank God. She needed to thoroughly wake up and get ahold of her long-lost faculties before coming face-to-face with her husband again.

Retreating back into the bedroom for clothes and her toiletries bag, she closed herself in their shared bathroom a moment later, sighing as the heavy aroma of grapefruit snuck up and ambushed her. Memories rushed in from the last time she stood in this shower, getting pleasure from August. Scenes, naked ones, bombarded her, making her movements clumsy as she twisted the handle, setting the water temperature to scalding.

She went through the motions of showering—only allowing herself one or two itty-bitty sniffs of August’s homemade soap—while contemplating her new role as a fake wife and employee of Zelnick Cellar. Her title didn’t have to be in name alone. She could help this place run successfully. At the very least, she had a whole month to give August a running start.

Natalie turned off the shower, climbed out, and got dressed in a pair of shorts and a loose, long-sleeved shirt. She went back to her room, dried her hair, and left the house with a purpose: find a way to help. She should just stay locked in the guest room and pray for her trust fund to promptly arrive in her bank account. But she’d spent so much time laughing off August’s attempts at winemaking when the cause was a good one. A worthy one.

And maybe she wanted to be a part of it somehow.

Maybe his happiness meant a little something to her.

Natalie stopped in the entrance to the production barn when she saw August standing before the row of barrels, stirring the settled yeast. The temperature in the barn was slightly warm for this time of year and there was every chance it was affecting his process. Granted, he didn’t have the budget for a more advanced facility, but they could certainly find a way to cool down the barrels by a few degrees. Had he tested the nitrogen content of the grapes?

August turned suddenly, his expression going from surprised to slightly guarded. “Sorry, what was that?”

Voicing her private thoughts out loud without being aware of it was a fun new habit. “I was just wondering if you’d tested the nitrogen content. Of the grapes.”

She wanted to go closer. Wanted to peer into the barrels herself and sort through the tools on the nearby table, just to see what he was working with, but August’s stiff shoulder muscles cast an invisible barrier. Or maybe she was imagining that?

Sure, he’d asked her to stay out of the barn. But that was prewedding and they’d been in the midst of an argument. Had his request been serious?

She exhaled. “Yes.”

The fact that they were on the same page relaxed his shoulders. “I don’t know. I guess . . . about a week.”

Problem number one detected. The gross lees should be racked off after one or two days. But she didn’t say it out loud. She simply nodded when he looked back at her over his shoulder.

Natalie ignored the wound that formed in the center of her belly. Just like Corinne and Julian, August wanted things done a certain way and it did not include Natalie. She was not welcome. Both vineyards could be sinking into the red and still, her assistance would not be required. Same old story. But why did it hurt more that August wanted to manage on his own? That he didn’t want any help—her help—with the winemaking? She was used to her family being dismissive of her efforts but August . . . again, he wasn’t supposed to push her away. It stung, even if she understood that his grief over Sam caused him to react in ways no one could fully comprehend.

Setting aside the hurt, she took a moment to try to see things from his perspective. He’d gone on this mission for his best friend. August was the only one standing here who knew what Sam wanted. “I haven’t lost anyone close to me, but I think grief can be expressed in a lot of different ways.”

August’s shoulders drooped a little, his eyes casting guarded gratitude in her direction. “I wouldn’t talk to the guys about Sam’s death. I didn’t even tell anyone but my CO that I was coming here, buying the vineyard. I didn’t want any of them to ask to be involved. Isn’t that fucked up?” He rubbed at his throat. “It’s just that I was closer to him than anyone else and . . .”

Natalie marveled over the fact that she could experience such a piercing sense of sympathy for someone she’d once thought was a bumbling ogre. Occasionally still did. “Do you think he would want it this way? You carrying all the weight?”

August stopped in the middle of nodding. “No.” He let out a gust of breath. “No, he definitely wouldn’t. But that doesn’t change anything.”

A weight slowly traveled from her throat to the center of her chest.

He said the most impactful things sometimes. And he meant them.

But the poor bonehead couldn’t see that simply letting her help would have the biggest impact of all. Explaining that to him would force him into sharing before he was ready.

Maybe he would never be ready.

She waved him off. “I can find the cave myself.”

This whole argument was beginning to feel like it had a hidden meaning, and she’d woken up this morning—the second time—and decided to uncomplicate their relationship. The more time she spent with August, however, the more convoluted their responsibility to each other seemed to become. And they’d been married less than twenty-four hours.

God save us.

He followed her across the dirt path between the two barns, taking off his gloves and leather apron as he walked and leaving them on the ground in his wake. Ridiculous.

She picked up her pace.

He matched it.

And now they were running, because nothing made sense anymore.

She rounded the corner of the event barn and spied the concrete staircase with the rusted metal handrail. “Why can’t you understand that I don’t want company?”

He was right behind her now. Mere steps. “How much time do you spend down there?” They were even now, damn his long legs. “And what the hell for?”

She fantasized about punching him in that moment. Hard. She truly did. That he could be so caring and protective, but still not realize how much it burned when he locked her out of his grief, out of his winemaking—it was frustrating. And since when did she let him have that power over her? How did he manage to sneak inside her and rearrange things?

Natalie opened the door slowly and welcomed the scent of earth and mold. Being that this cave hadn’t been used in a while, there was more dust in the stale air that escaped, but the cold, familiar darkness was welcome nonetheless. She opened her flashlight app and shined it in front of her, noting that August was right. The stairs were treacherous. But they were dry and the handrail wasn’t rusted as it was outside. She felt safe enough to venture inside, descending slowly into the underground.

Ignoring his odd tone, Natalie swung the flashlight left and revealed a long, oval-shaped room. Cobweb-covered racks lined the wall, empty, and discarded bottles of wine littered the stone floor. More darkness lay beyond in what looked to be a second, smaller room. “Oh my gosh, this is incredible, August. You could fix this up and have private parties down here. Or you could make it a storage room. There are so many different techniques . . .”

She trailed off when she realized August hadn’t answered her in a while.

Pausing midway down the stairs, she turned, using her flashlight to illuminate his face—and found him white as a ghost. His eyes were closed, sweat clinging to his forehead.

That was when the situation they were in started to register differently. They were in near total darkness, traveling into an unfamiliar space. Did this remind him of being in battle?

Did this remind him of . . . what happened to Sam?

She started to retreat up the stairs as quickly as possible, but August met her halfway and scooped her into his arms, jogging the rest of the distance and into the sunlight. He took the outer concrete steps two at a time, at which point his legs just seemed to give out. Still holding her in his arms, he dropped into a kneel in a shaded patch of grass and instinctively, Natalie curled herself around him. She wrapped every available appendage around this shaking man and clung, moisture pooling in her eyes.

Natalie tightened her arms around his neck and slowly, slowly, he laid them down sideways in the grass and she could feel that his T-shirt was soaked in sweat, his heart still going a million miles an hour. “I shouldn’t have barged my way down there. I was just trying to find a way to help where I wouldn’t be in the way.”

He blew a rocky breath into her hair and pulled her closer. “You’re not in the way, but I appreciate that.”

She stroked his back with her fingertips and he sighed, the tension in his muscles ebbing slightly. “Has this happened before?”

He made a sound like he didn’t believe her. A long minute passed, his pulse beginning to slow. Then he said, “Winemaking was the heart of him. He wanted it so bad. And I already . . . I failed him once, Natalie. I wasn’t supposed to let him die. I was supposed to protect him.” A heavy swallow. “He wouldn’t have let it happen to me.”

Natalie’s tears were soaking into the shoulder of his T-shirt now, a torturous wind in her middle. “I’m not a soldier, August, and I don’t know anything about war, but I know your character. And I know if you’d had the slightest hint of a threat to anyone you love, you’d have done something to stop it. I know that like I know the sun will come up tomorrow.” She kissed his salty skin. “It wasn’t your fault.”

They held on to each other tightly in the afternoon sun, time passing without measure. Natalie pushed the lingering sadness she felt about August refusing her help as far away as possible, weighing it down with sympathy and understanding. And an encroaching, never-experienced-before feeling that was too scary to name.

Chapter Eighteen

Going to dinner at his mother-in-law’s house.

August never thought he’d be so excited.

He and Natalie were dressed in business casual attire as they walked out of the house together and called goodbye to the cat. August opened the car door for Natalie so she could slide into the passenger seat and balance a homemade pie on her lap. This was the kind of evening that made the marriage feel real, and goddamn, he loved it, especially since they’d been orbiting each other without touching or speaking much since yesterday.

When he’d lost it in the wine cave.

Yeah, there hadn’t been a lot of conversation since they’d spent hours clinging together outside the event barn, inhaling each other’s exhales, her heartbeat like a song that he could follow out of the darkness. There’d been a lot of staring, however. A lot of passing each other in the kitchen or on the way into the bathroom and looking. Wanting to touch.

August knew damn well Natalie was waiting for him to make a move—and believe him, not taking her to bed was unmitigated torture, but if yesterday had proven anything to him, it was that he needed Natalie to be in his life permanently. He needed to take this slice of time seriously and not get distracted by her smoking-hot, one-of-a-kind rack. He needed her for sixty years, not sixty minutes. What else was a man supposed to believe when the idea of her getting injured made every molecule in his body scream like a child who’d accidentally walked into a theater playing It?

Descending into that cave had been eerily similar to entering the hideout with Sam three years ago. The same dusty waft of decay, the silence and pitch-blackness of it all. And all he could think was I can’t lose her, too. I can’t.

It would be so satisfying to make love and forget about all the obstacles in their path to matrimonial bliss, but if he took that route, he’d wake up one day and she’d be leaving for New York. His dick would have gotten a workout, fine. But she wouldn’t be any closer to loving him back. Or believing they could go the distance.

At this rate, cheesy eighties songs were writing themselves, but who could blame him when she looked so gorgeous in his passenger seat, her left knee bouncing up and down in a nervous gesture that threatened to upend the pie.

She appeared to be on the verge of rolling her eyes, but cut him a sly look instead. “You know, the one from Williams Sonoma doubles as a fondue pot.”

He smacked the steering wheel. “Are we positive no one bought us one of those?”

Because if that man can’t see I’d die for you, he’s blind.

Her laughter was kind of dazed. “Dinner with my mother in her formal dining room is far from kicking back with a cold one in someone’s backyard.”

Natalie stared.

Any second now, she was going to call him on that fist pump and the bullshit that followed. Instead, she asked, “Do you . . . know how that goes? Have you had serious girlfriends?”

Somehow, August got the sense that this was a dangerous topic. “My father used to say that women ask questions they don’t really want answered, and it’s our job to figure out which ones are safe and which ones aren’t. And we will always be wrong.”

Natalie scoffed at that, readjusting the pie on her lap. “What are you implying? That I don’t really want to know about your past girlfriends?”

Oh no. That chuckle was deceiving.

Trust your gut, son.

Or was it his dick? Because his dick said to tell Natalie anything she wanted to know. Give her anything she wants without delay.

O-kay. Natalie was still smiling. This seemed fine. “Carol? She’s a sweet, down-home Kansas girl. Her pickles won a blue ribbon at the state fair.”

Hold up. Things were getting dicey.

He was already shaking his head. “Natalie.”

She was utterly beautiful and vulnerable in that moment.

Also pale and full of terror.

Awesome.

She opened her mouth, then closed it. Glanced over his shoulder, where he could hear the front door of the house opening. Footsteps approaching. “Can we talk about this later?”

* * *

I have feelings for you.

Natalie walked into her childhood home trying desperately not to fumble the pie. Her fake husband had just admitted to having feelings for her. What kind of feelings? They didn’t get that far. Did he mean lust? Did he mean he cared about her? Because she’d already sort of sensed both of those things, but they weren’t supposed to speak about it out loud. That made it real. That made it something they would have to deal with.

Still, she wasn’t supposed to get tummy flutters over phrases like I only have eyes for your pie. Yet here she stood. Fluttering and flushed and trying to come to terms with this huge presence in her life now having feelings for her on top of everything else.

Maybe even her own feelings for him. Big, daunting ones.

Briefly, she glanced down. “I used to wear shoes like this every day of the week.” She used the pie to gesture at the dining room ahead, where voices could be heard, including one belonging to Ingram Meyer. “The heels make me feel more confident. I . . . need some confidence at family dinners.”

August searched her eyes, nodded—and Natalie was flooded with the strangest sense that he’d seen exactly what was going on upstairs in her noggin. “I got you, princess.”

She blinked up at him. “You’ve got me?”

She was blinking very fast now. “I was listening.”

It took Natalie a moment to realize they’d walked into the dining room together, but the extended silence finally registered. They hadn’t immediately taken their eyes off each other and now everyone—Corinne, Julian, Hallie, and Ingram—was observing them curiously. It was a slow, reluctant peeling of gazes and she felt almost delirious over being that close to his mouth without getting kissed. She watched as August finally focused on Corinne, who stood stoic at the head of the table, offering her a grin. “Hey, Ma.”

Natalie caught the ghost of a smile before Corinne rolled her eyes. “Come in. Dinner is almost ready. We’re having lamb.” She extended a hand toward the man sitting to her left, who for once didn’t have a straw hat perched on top of his head. “I’m sure you’ll remember Mr. Meyer from the wedding.”

The loan officer gave a lazy salute with his wineglass. “Lovely to see you again.”

Corinne pointed at the pie in Natalie’s hands. “Who made that?”

She only vaguely noticed August frowning down at her. Why? It was no secret she couldn’t make food to save her life. By refraining to do so, she saved everyone else’s. And hadn’t he made fun of her about her lack of kitchen skills as recently as yesterday?

Corinne remained standing until August and Natalie took side by side spots at the table, then everyone was seated.

That wasn’t the greatest start toward convincing the loan officer of their undying love, and August seemed to realize it right away. He reached for her hand under the table, where no one could see, and squeezed it, appearing trapped in his thoughts.

Meanwhile, Ingram Meyer swirled the ruby-red contents of his glass. “Natalie is technically an employee now at Zelnick Cellar, is she not? With her vast array of winemaking knowledge, she must be a huge help to you.”

There was a wrenching sensation below Natalie’s collarbone and she reached for her water. A huge help? Not likely. He wouldn’t even let her in the door. August watched her sip water with a deep groove between his brows, then visibly shook himself into answering. “She . . . yes, she’s got a lot of knowledge to offer. I’m very lucky.”

Natalie had just forked up a bite of salad, but paused while everyone chuckled at Corinne’s jest, though she noticed that August didn’t laugh. At all. “It’s true. I know how to stay in my lane. Especially if it’s the checkout lane at the wine store.” More laughs. But none from August. “Zelnick Cellar might give Vos some stiff competition in a few years.”

Corinne raised an eyebrow at August. “Wouldn’t that be something?”

Corinne gave Natalie a meaningful look.

She’d gotten so lost in her speech, she didn’t realize Ingram had lowered his glass to the table and was regarding her seriously. Minus the smirk for once. “We should all be so lucky to have someone believe in us the way you believe in your husband, Ms. Vos.”

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.

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.

Everyone’s attention swung toward Natalie.

He’d . . . noticed what she was doing on her laptop?

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.

* * *

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.

When Ingram refused the refill and stood up, slapping the straw hat back on his head, everyone stood with him. Everyone but August.

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.

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?”

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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

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.

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.”

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.

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

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?”

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.

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

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.”

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.”

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.

She didn’t trust it.

After round one of the Prank War, they’d retreated to their battle stations. He’d gone back outside and flipped his tire for a while before occupying the kitchen with so much presence that she’d fled like a coward to stop herself from doing something stupid like sliding between that thick, badass body and the counter, leaving the rest up to fate.

It was getting darker outside and there seemed to be some correlation between the sunset and her libido. The damn thing had a personality now and it wanted to know why it hadn’t been pampered since their wedding night. She definitely hadn’t exfoliated and lotioned herself to death hoping something might accidentally happen again. Of course not.

They were in the midst of a war!

What was his first move going to be?

She didn’t know his prank style yet. What if he shaved off one of her eyebrows? That was exactly the kind of nonsubtle action her husband would take. Had she gotten herself in too deep? Why was exhilaration spinning in her tummy like a Ferris wheel? Who got this much enjoyment out of a fake husband? Was she doing it wrong?

Obviously, yes.

A ping on her laptop signaled an incoming email. She was on the verge of assuming it was an advertisement when she noticed Claudia’s name. Why was her business partner emailing her so late? With no subject line?

Frowning, Natalie opened the email and found a short message: Sorry if I’m the first one to tell you, just didn’t want you to be blindsided this week. Below that cryptic statement was a link to a New York Times article.

No, an engagement announcement.

For Morrison and his new girlfriend.

Her whole body beat once, a tingle at the crown of her head. Mostly out of shock. After that, she waited for the jealousy to rise up and drag her under.

It never did.

They were like two fictitious characters on the screen, smiling and two dimensional and so far away. What did those two people do for fun? Probably not a prank war. They definitely wouldn’t dance to “Brick House” at their wedding. But she hoped they had their own versions of those activities. She really did. Like, wow. She actually found herself truly hoping they would be happy. How evolved was that?

Thanks for letting me know, Natalie typed back. I’ll send a fruit basket.

She hit send and sat on the edge of the bed for another moment, still a little wary of the total lack of shits she gave over Morrison’s being engaged. What did that mean?

A gruff rendition of “Love Train” being sung in the kitchen drew her attention. She set her laptop on the bedside table and promptly forgot about the news. It was time to face her fate. No more putting it off. Whatever comeuppance was in her future, she would take it like a woman and immediately begin plotting revenge. Would it be sugar replaced with salt in an evening coffee? Or maybe even an old-school whoopee cushion. That smacked of August—

As soon as she opened her bedroom door, a bucket of water turned over and rained down on her head. It was like that famous scene from Flashdance, except she wasn’t wearing a sexy leotard and the absolute soaking wasn’t voluntary. No cinematic value whatsoever.

Standing at the stove and laughing like a psychotic hyena, August snapped a picture with his phone. “Photographic evidence. Bet you wish you’d thought of that.”

Natalie was still rendered speechless by the deluge. Not to mention, the fact that her embarrassment was now immortalized digitally. But when the bucket came loose from the door frame and plunked her square on the head, she thought on her feet, grabbing onto the opportunity for quick revenge with both hands.

August went still as a statue, the blood draining from his face. “Oh my God.” He dropped his phone and it bounce-skidded under the table, but he didn’t seem to notice. “Are you hurt? Did I hurt you?”

She gave a long, brave sniff and looked at her hand, wincing like she’d spotted blood. “I . . . I don’t know. I probably only need a few stitches.”

Okay. Jig’s up. The man had suffered enough.

Right before he could tug away her hand to examine the nonexistent wound on top of her head, Natalie smiled. “Gotcha, babe.”

It was like watching an air mattress deflate in fast motion. The air just sort of blew out of him and he doubled over, bracing his hands on his knees. “That’s not funny, Natalie,” he wheezed. “I thought I split your head open.”

He lifted his head, his complexion still lacking in color. “You’re really okay?”

Suddenly her heart weighed four hundred pounds.

And was roughly the size of a watermelon, the whole thing seeming to pry apart her ribs and protrude from her chest. Perhaps she needed an ambulance after all. “Yes, I’m okay. I was just getting you back.”

He commenced a breathing exercise—in, in, out, in, in, out—she suspected was designed to calm him. And it was just barely working. Come to think of it, she was having a pretty difficult time breathing, too, her heart galloping like a Derby winner.

I’m falling for my husband.

Hard and fast.

Might even be well past . . . fallen for him territory.

Oh shit.

And he wiggled a little deeper into her heart when he straightened suddenly and crowded her into the doorway, brushing around the wet hair on her head gently, looking down at her from above. “I just need to check for myself,” he said, his warm breath on her forehead. “I don’t see anything. Thank God.” He closed his eyes, pressed their foreheads together. “You scared forty-six years off my life.”

Did it always look so delicious?

Yes. Always.

Her knees wobbled like they might send her splattering to the ground. “I’ll do my best to keep meting it out.”

Natalie wet lips that had become parched, despite the fact that a bucket of water had been overturned on her head. “I better get out of these wet clothes.” She tilted back her head so their mouths could rest on top of each other and just like that, they were struggling to breathe. “Want to help me?”

August swallowed audibly, then took a long inhale and exhale through his nose. “It’s not a question of wanting to. I always fucking want you. Every minute, every hour of the day.” The words weren’t even finished coming out of his mouth when she kissed him, their mutual groans coming from deep within. “But I told you the night we got married. Before we go there, I want to know you’re not going to wake up with regrets. Don’t you dare roll over in my bed tomorrow and act like this was a one-night stand. It’s not.”

Funny, he didn’t look scared at all. Only determined. “We’re going to find out.” The determination flickered a touch and some vulnerability shone through. “Tell me how you feel about me, Natalie.”

Her heartbeat spread to her entire body, pulsing in every limb, every hair follicle. “Oh my God, who just puts somebody on the spot like this?”

She stared down at her ripped shirt in shock, eyes shooting back up to meet his increasingly intense ones. “Do you want me to obsess about you?”

There was quicksand shifting beneath her feet, preparing to suck her down. “W-we only married for money—”

His mouth stamped down on hers at an angle and she went from protesting the existence of her own feelings to kissing him eagerly, whimpering into the possessive stroke of his tongue. “Go sell that lie somewhere else, princess,” he rasped, pulling her yoga pants and panties down to her knees, dragging his nose upward over her stomach and between her breasts on the way back to looking her straight in the eye. “Now am I just giving you head again? Or are you going to admit how you feel about me so we can fuck like animals?”

Her sex gave a very dramatic, very enthusiastic clench in favor of the latter. But speaking of animals, her heart was still hammering like a jackrabbit. Just admit how she felt? Who did that? Obviously people who had never been on the receiving end of a No thank you, I’ll pass.

Natalie stood poised on the edge of a canyon being asked to walk a tight rope to the other side. But the longer she looked into his seeking eyes, the steadier that rope became until it turned into a full-fledged bridge. “I do it, too,” she whispered in a rush. “I count the minutes until we’re breathing the same air again.”

His chuckle was halting. “Brave girl.” He smoothed his palms down her naked hips, back up the sides of her rib cage, his lips moving on the side of her neck. “My girl.”

In that moment, it was the truth. Her body belonged to him. Her heart lay defenseless.

Just asking to be mauled.

When his strong hands finally closed around her breasts, Natalie’s neck lost power, her head tipping back on a breathy moan. In one swift movement, his ropy forearm wrapped around the small of her back and he knelt on the mattress, dropping her down beneath him. Her yoga pants were around her knees. Never taking his eyes off her, he pulled her pants and underwear down the remaining distance, letting them slap wetly onto the floor. They joined the rag that used to be her shirt as he licked her nipples. Just once each and she was shaking.

He lifted his head, grinning. “Took away the nerves, didn’t it?”

Don’t smile back. Don’t—

Too late. She was beaming like a headlight. “It shifted my priorities. From trying not to faint to trying not to sock you in the junk.”

The laugh snuck out before she could trap it. “You’re such a bozo.”

His hand slid up and cupped her face, tongue still working, working, working her swollen nipple and now . . . there was some kind of tugging cord between said nipple and her core. It vibrated and hummed, sending reverberations throughout her body. “Hmmm?”

The movements of his tongue were so slow and savoring, she was caught off guard when he lifted his head and she found his pupils taking up nearly his entire irises. “I’m not entering the palace without paying homage to the queen, Natalie,” he said, out of breath.

Natalie mentally reeled.

Opened her mouth to disagree that unzipping and giving hell was a negative thing.

But August had already stripped off his shirt—oh, the muscle—and rolled over onto his back. “Come here.” He ran his tongue along his bottom lip, that broad chest beginning to heave faster and faster. “Let me lick it.”

Her brain had gone offline. “I don’t understand.”

August either didn’t hear her or was choosing to ignore her confusion, because his teeth were sinking into that glossy bottom lip now, his palm stroking the ridge in his jeans. “Christ, just thinking about you sitting on my face might finish me.”

Forget the fact that she’d never done that before. Not from the top position. But she’d experienced the force of nature that was August’s tongue on their wedding night and the memories were not just glorious, they were fresh. He didn’t need to beg. He didn’t even need to ask her twice. She straddled the mile-wide mountain range that was his chest, whimpering when he took two rough handfuls of her backside and dragged her onto his mouth.

Dragged.

Grinding her there. On his stiff tongue.

And now, ladies and gentlemen, she would never again underestimate the effects of nipple stimulation. There was no awkward moment or easing into the act of being pleasured from below. Not when he’d already gotten her this wet, this sensitive. There were only the desperate writhes of her hips, the shallow, hiccupping sounds emanating from her throat, August’s moans, and the wild urgency to climax.

He entered her with his tongue, pushed it as deep as possible—and her womb itself constricted, her thighs going rubbery. “Oh my God. Oh my God.” His middle finger teased her rear entrance, that magical tongue driving in, out, in—and goodbye reality, she was now a resident of the stars. She rode on a rainbow unicorn over the Milky Way and waved at an astronaut. Her body was still in the bedroom, thighs squeezing the sides of August’s head, fingers clutching shakily at the headboard while wave after wave of pleasure rocketed through her lower body, tightening and releasing muscles, brutalizing her in the best way possible.

Even after the orgasm crested and she came back down the other side, she was still trembling, her skin speckled in sweat. She actually had to blink several times to align her vision again and look down into August’s face. And he was so turned on by her reaction to what they’d done, so visibly heated, that somehow, against all odds, her own lust rose back to the surface. Unrecognizable, eager sounds fell from her mouth as she scooted backward down his body and found he’d already lowered his zipper. Taken his shaft in his hand.

All she could do was shake her head.

Speaking of eager young puppies, that’s exactly what she did—taking his thickness all the way home, not stopping until he shouted her name.

Deep, so deep.

Fragments of light exploded behind her eyes, her hips moving of their own volition. In a split second, they were fulfilling his promise of fucking like animals, her sex, never wetter in its life, bringing him inside over and over again, her butt slapping down on the top of his thick, hairy thighs.

Oh yeah. This was the new her, apparently. Obedient as all get-out.

How else was she supposed to behave when this man had unlocked secrets to her pleasure that she didn’t even know were being held prisoner? He was magic. And his erect penis, God help her, was pure perfection. Normally Natalie would have called it too large. She had called it that at first glance. But the foreplay—the mothereffing foreplay turned that . . . eight? Nine-inch? . . . monster into a jungle gym. And it had a curve in it. She actually had to throw her hips back to accommodate that slight bow and in doing so, her clit rubbed against the solid, so solid base of his sex, turning her into a moaning, sweating mess.

His eyes were almost black by now, upper lip curled. “What do you love about it?”

Why was she shaking so violently when she wasn’t even having an orgasm? Did this man give her pre-orgasms? Was that possible or should she donate herself to science? “It’s . . . y-you made me ready for it,” she gasped. “With your mouth.”

Actual moisture was beginning to overflow from her eyes, her teeth chattering. So good, so good, so good. “Both!”

The orgasm slapped harder this time and she soared, loving it, loving being objectified and fucked and revered all at the same time. It was in the way he leaned down to kiss her, letting her know with that cherishing stroke of his tongue that he would be there to take care of her when it was all over. That he adored her.

She could feel that.

He made her feel it.

Now she wanted to return the favor. “You’ve more than earned it,” she whispered, scraping her fingernails along his scalp. Raked them down his back and his eyes glazed over. Then she contracted the intimate muscles between her legs and watched his control stumble, his jaw flexing, a stuttered version of her name tumbling out of his mouth. “Although . . .”

She positioned her mouth against his ear, flexed again, and buried her nails into his back. “Do you really need to earn anything when I want your come so bad?”

Moments later, they were nothing but a tangle of sweaty limbs, their labored breathing slowing in the small room. August’s mouth traveled along the slope of her shoulder, kissing her beneath the ear as his fingers twined themselves with hers. “Holy shit,” he muttered into her hair, sounding completely dumbstruck. “Holy shit.”

He lifted his head to frown down at her. “You sure that falling bucket didn’t hurt you?”

Natalie felt herself plummet deeper into the feelings that had been building for this man and wouldn’t seem to stop, despite their very opposite objectives. Despite the outward reasons they’d married and the different directions they were heading. “I’m sure.”

Her heart gave a heavy thud, so intense that she reached out suddenly for the glass of water on the bedside table, just for something to do with her hands. In the process, she bumped her laptop and the screen brightened. She barely noticed at first. Not until August tapped her bare hip. “Who is that?”

August pointed over her shoulder at the New York Times engagement announcement still very much visible on her screen. The glass of water paused halfway to Natalie’s mouth.

Chapter Twenty

Every time things between him and Natalie started to feel right, a snake had to slither through the grass, jump up, and bite him square in the testicles. Swear to God. As soon as her shoulders stiffened, he knew something was up. And he knew he wouldn’t like it.

A significant part of August didn’t want her to confirm the identity of the suited, smiling golden boy in the photograph, because he’d already put it together. Central Park spread in the background gave it away. That fucker with the whitest teeth he’d ever seen was Natalie’s ex-fiancé. They’d just had sex so incredible that he’d heard “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds” by the Beatles playing when he came and this was going to ruin it, huh?

She took a long drink from the glass and set it back down on the bedside table. “That would be my ex, Morrison, and his new fiancée.” Her smile was tight and brief. “I wasn’t internet stalking. Someone sent me the announcement.”

Jerky shoulder shrug. “I don’t know, a little while ago.”

It was all coming together now. His stomach pitched first, followed by the scraping out of his chest, leaving it hollow.

No, not totally hollow.

There was a big billow of green smoke wafting in, carrying jealousy on its back. Sticky, grimy, and impossible to escape. “A little while ago, as in, right before you asked me for sex.”

August lunged off the bed to his feet, zipping himself back into his jeans with numb fingers. “You need me to spell it out for you?”

Unable to stand the sight of Morrison’s smiling face another second, he crossed to the other side of the bed and closed the lid of the laptop. “You were feeling shitty about your ex getting engaged and I was a convenient ego boost.”

That marked the first time he’d ever rendered Natalie speechless.

And it didn’t feel a tenth as good as he expected it to.

In fact, it felt the opposite of good. It was awful.

She stared up at him for several beats, then seemed to blink back tears while turning her face away. “Get out of my room.”

It took him a moment to find his voice. “Deny it.”

Nope.

Nope, it certainly did not.

Now she was covering herself with a pillow. Hiding from him.

Apologize. Right the hell now.

She’d just turned him inside out in that bed and the possibility she’d been on a different page was eating him alive.

His heart climbed up into his mouth and he swallowed it, the whole aching mass of it getting stuck in his throat. “Once I’m out, it’s going to be really hard to convince you to let me back in.”

More than anything, he was angry with himself in that moment. Pissed beyond measure. Frustration built higher and higher, any remaining thread of control slipping from his fingers. He couldn’t do anything right. Couldn’t make Natalie happy for longer than a few measly minutes at a time. Couldn’t do justice to Sam’s dream. Couldn’t interpret brain shit, either, apparently. What good was he doing anyone?

Giving Natalie breathing room was probably the right thing to do, but he couldn’t seem to make himself leave the room. He simply remained there, an inanimate object with his hand on the knob. No, he couldn’t walk away. That’s what they’d both done at the end of every fight, since the beginning, and it had hurt their relationship every time.

He’d lose her unless something changed.

Her feelings were hurt because of him, and he wasn’t just going to abandon her.

August turned around. “What can I do to make this better, Natalie?”

Her chin snapped up. “Besides light yourself on fire?”

A hoarse sound left him. And it occurred to him that storming away was definitely easier. This was the hard part. Hearing what he’d done wrong and how he’d hurt her. Was that what made a marriage last? Doing the hard shit? “Why empty?”

Her words dug into him like slivers of glass. Christ, that was worse than he’d imagined. What would he have learned by now if he’d just spoken to her like this after all of their arguments? He’d be wiser than Doctor Strange. “God, I’m sorry.”

So . . . many of his choices?

What else was he doing to hurt her?

He racked his memory bank and came up with nothing. “Natalie, what am I . . .” Out of nowhere, an idea lit up the nether regions of his brain. “I can read you the rest of my wedding vows. Will that make you feel better?”

Was that reluctant interest he sensed? “There was more?”

Bedside table.

August snatched up the yellow, lined piece of paper and ran back out of the room, skidding to a halt a few seconds later at the foot of Natalie’s bed.

He cleared his throat dramatically, but she wasn’t ready to smile yet. Fair enough. He’d be lucky if she simply lost that hollow look in her eyes by the time he finished reading.

Don’t ever hurt her feelings again, you son of a bitch.

She nodded.

Good. He loved knowing she remembered exactly what he’d said at the altar.

He flipped the paper around and held it out, so she could see he was reciting the vows verbatim. “Read it and weep, princess.”

She glanced at the page, then studied her nails, trying and failing to hide a glimmer of interest. “Anything else?”

When she sniffed a little, he reached for her hand, bringing it up between them.

Pressing her fingertips to his nipple.

She twisted harder.

Finally, she let go. And had the nerve to look innocent when he lifted his head to show her his incredulity. “You asked for it,” she said, blinking up at him. Smiling.

He’d made her smile. After a fight.

The bliss of that almost eclipsed his pain. Almost.

She yawned. “Male nipples don’t really serve a function anyway.”

They laughed and he held her tighter, turning them bodily onto their sides and molding himself around the perfect back of her. “That does it,” he growled into her neck, kissing her soft skin in between each word. “You have to sleep with me tonight. That’s your punishment for trying to kill me.”

Little by little, the tension left her muscles until she was completely relaxed in his arms and his heart constricted in response. “We’re good, August.”

He believed her.

But he also believed his dick/gut and it was telling him they were far from out of the woods. New York was still on the horizon. Not to mention the investment from his CO he’d neglected to tell her about. And earlier, hadn’t she said I know that so many of your choices aren’t made to hurt me, even though they do? Whatever she was referring to, his eyes needed to be more open to it now. He’d do better.

Because he wanted to fall asleep holding her forever.

Chapter Twenty-One

A boom of thunder jolted Natalie’s entire body upright in bed, August’s heavy arm dropping from around her shoulders down into the sheets. Within seconds, that muscular limb was curling around her thigh, hoarse, unintelligible murmurs coming from her husband. No doubt about it, the man was beautiful when he slept. A big, cozy brute with obvious morning wood. She’d expect nothing less—

Another roll of thunder seemed to shake the entire house. With a gasp, her gaze flew to the window. The storm sounded like it was coming from their backyard. Her distress must have finally woken August because he sat up beside her in bed, bare chested, his brow chiseled with concern. Instantly on alert.

After a quick glance at the window, he studied her face. “Are you okay?”

A little over a week ago, she would have taken an immediate jab at him. Claim she was calling the police to request immediate evacuation. Or ask in mock horror if they’d be forced to drink his wine if they ran out of rations. But now, she simply turned wet, already starved for August’s weight on top of her, the friction their warm morning skin would make as he moved. Slow at first. Then hard. Then fast and ferocious.

They would talk after that.

They had to talk.

Either they stopped ending up in bed like this, acting like a real-life married couple or . . .

Or they adjusted their plan from one month to . . . longer?

A goose egg stuck in her throat. Dear Lord, the very idea was scary.

What if she actually tried to make it work with this man who she had deep, messy feelings for? What if they remained married permanently? It would require a lot of shifting. Her expectations and aspirations and . . . well, everything. She’d have to reimburse Claudia for all of her time and hard work, make sure her friend wasn’t left hanging. She’d have to find . . . a purpose here. The financial sector didn’t operate out of Napa. Wine was her only option and so far, August had only thrown up roadblocks to prevent her from helping.

He hadn’t yet carved out a place for her in his daily life. Starting each morning, he’d shut her out while he worked, instead of accepting her help. Letting her in.

Perhaps his rejection was unconscious, but he did it nonetheless. Explaining her reservations to August would only force him to make changes too soon and she couldn’t fast-forward his grief process. But could she gamble her entire future on him letting her in eventually? What if he didn’t and she signed up for another life like the one in which she’d been raised? Always being kept on the periphery of the Vos family, never let into the inner circle.

August leaned over, skating his mouth over hers. Urging her down into the sheets and coming down on top of her, licking into a moaning kiss that shot bullet holes through her worries. “Woke up starved for that thing between your legs.” He groaned into her neck. “Not sure if you’re still a little pissed from last night, so I’m asking very nicely if I can eat it.”

She really should give him another purple nurple for referring to her vagina as that thing. Unfortunately, she liked all the words coming from his mouth and wanted more. Immediately. “Yes,” she murmured, letting her knees fall open while his mouth trailed eagerly downward—

Natalie’s phone rang on her bedside table.

There was no way to trap the giggle. Any other time, she would have ignored the call, but she happened to glance over and see Julian’s name on the screen. Her brother wouldn’t pick up a phone unless there was a good reason. She had to answer.

Natalie frowned, a weird sort of clinch happening in her middle. “He’s here. I’ll put you on speaker.” She tapped the screen. “Okay, you’ve got both of us.”

August pulled up his pants and disappeared from the bedroom.

Just boom. Gone.

His feet pounded across the floorboards of the kitchen. The creak of a door opening and closing in the hallway, a distinct click she recognized as the linen closet. Was he taking a shower? Or was that wishful thinking? Because she had the sudden fear that her fake-for-now husband was heading straight to a flash flood.

She found him in the hallway. But this man was a stranger.

Gone was his golden retriever, tongue lolling out, lazy beers at the lake kind of demeanor. He’d been replaced with a soldier. His expression was hard, focused, the movements of his hands precise and efficient. And from somewhere in the linen closet she’d opened multiple times, he’d unearthed a gigantic backpack. He checked the contents now, nodded, threw it on his back, and strode for the door.

Relieved? Natalie felt like someone had shoved a stick of dynamite into her chest. Her feet were barely functioning, but she ran after August, anyway, barefoot in a nightshirt. Outside. Within seconds, she was soaked to the skin. So was August, though he seemed almost at home in the rain, cutting through it like some kind of deadly assassin in sweatpants and no shirt.

He was going to help the family stuck in the flash flood.

Just like that.

Her heart was torn in two directions. Obviously, she wanted those children and their mother to be rescued, but she’d seen what nature was capable of four years ago during the fire. Floods were dangerous. He was one man—not a team of SEALs.

Was he going to be all right?

Natalie hung up on Julian, blood pounding in her temples. She watched August climb into the driver’s seat of his truck and didn’t even hesitate before springing to the passenger side and throwing herself into the vehicle.

A beat passed.

With a curse, he gunned the truck in reverse and shot down the tree-lined driveway while her heart pumped in time with the windshield wipers.

* * *

It was so much worse than she’d imagined, and she’d been picturing the apocalypse. No fewer than two dozen emergency personnel vehicles were parked at haphazard angles along the road leading to the flooded street. A helicopter circled overhead. The occupants of news vans were fighting with police officers to gain entry to the cordoned-off scene. And all the while, the deluge continued to pour, thunder and lightning arguing with each other in a way that suggested they were in the thick of this storm.

August screeched the truck to a halt at the police barrier, the window already rolled halfway down. “Petty Officer Cates, formerly of SEAL team five. I can help.”

They waved him through and he hit the gas.

August took a long look at her face, seeming to register her terror for the first time. How polite of him. And he momentarily softened, cupping the side of her face. “I’m adding it to my wedding vows. I won’t get hurt. It’s written in stone now, just like the rest of them.” He kissed her hard and took one last look at her face. “My God, I am fucking crazy about you.”

With that, he shot from the truck with the backpack over one shoulder, leaving her reeling, her heart bleeding profusely. But instinct kicked in a second later and Natalie moved into the warm spot left behind by his body, watching him through the windshield, the scrape of the wiper blades suddenly becoming the soundtrack to a horror film. He shouted at a group of huddled men, joined them. After a brief exchange, they moved as one big unit toward the top of the road—and that’s when their location finally registered.

She’d taken this shortcut a million times throughout her life. When town was jam-packed with tourist traffic, this road was a way to avoid it. Elevation wise, she supposed it was much lower than the surrounding area, but that fact had never seemed important until now.

Up ahead, August disappeared around a bend in the road with the huddle of rescue workers and without her husband in view, everything inside her screamed to throw herself out of the truck and sprint after him. But she would not distract him in a dangerous scenario like this. Absolutely not. If he made a mistake and got hurt or killed because of her, she would never forgive herself. She was staying in the damn truck.

But there was no one around to stop the truck from creeping forward a little.

Just so she could keep tabs on any developments.

August had left the motor running, so she put the truck into drive and inched slowly around the police vehicles and their flashing lights, stopping when the very top of the rushing water came into view below.

And her blood ran cold.

The van was halfway submerged in turbulent water.

Teri Frasier, Zelnick Cellar’s one and only customer, and her triplets were holding on to one another for dear life on the roof of the van.

For the first time, she noticed a man on the scene with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, wearing what looked to be a sodden suit. His hysterical tone reached through the rain and windshield and though the voice was muffled, Natalie somehow knew it was Teri’s husband. Helpless, watching the water slowly rise around his family.

A few minutes later, a yellow raft approached from upstream and there was August, steering it, two officers behind him. They’d put August in a helmet, but the life vest was obviously too small for his king-sized body, so it just hung on him loosely, flapping open in the wind. He shouted something at Teri, smiled, and she nodded.

The timing was barbaric. Why did she have to realize she loved the big lug right before he was about to do something life threatening? It couldn’t have happened while he was cooking eggs or trying to reason with the cat? Natalie was never more positive that she hadn’t loved Morrison, because this big, wild, terrifying feeling had happened only once in her life.

Right now. For August.

She understood now. Love turned the heart into a liability. If something happened to him, she’d never get the damn thing to beat properly again. It seemed to be beating for him now.

Time seemed to freeze when August reached the side of the submerged road. From his backpack, he pulled out what looked like . . . a grappling hook? He raised it high and buried it in the dirt and rock formation that ran along the road, twisting and screwing it into the earth. One of the officers leapt out of the raft onto the rocks and worked to secure it further, wrapping the attached cable around his forearm several times. August threw the excess cable to the other side of the road, where a waiting officer caught it, securing a latch to the front of his vehicle.

As soon as the man turned and gave August a thumbs-up, he jumped into the raging current of water and Natalie almost puked.

It carried him several feet toward the submerged van and she started to cry, the heels of her hands digging into the hollows of her cheeks. Hard enough to hurt. But her breath caught as August stopped suddenly and Natalie realized he’d hooked himself to the center of the cable that ran perpendicular to the road.

No one was there to hear her nonsensical questions. Or hear her chant her husband’s name over and over again, her fingernails digging into her knees, the seat. The fact that the truck smelled so heavily of grapefruit wasn’t helping. Or was it the only thing helping? She didn’t know. She could only hold her breath as August moved toward the minivan, instructing Teri and the three children to climb onto the hood of the van, which was partially beneath water.

The woman hesitated, visibly nervous to step into the water at all, but whatever August said seemed to reassure her and finally, she stepped in, handing the first of the three children to him. He took off his life jacket and wrapped the small child as tightly as possible with the belt, then he put the young boy on his back and started moving toward the side of the road by pulling himself along the cable, hand over hand. Natalie could see he was talking to the crying child and more than anything, she wondered what he was saying. Probably just the best things in the world, because he was August freaking Cates.

When the child was reunited with his father, Natalie expelled a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding, her heart still fluttering as fast as a hummingbird’s wings.

But she did.

By the time it was Teri’s turn to hop on his back, the woman no longer looked worried. Her kids were out of danger.

And then it was over. The rain continued to come down in buckets, but it was over.

At which point, nothing short of an act of God could keep Natalie in the truck.

Chapter Twenty-Two

August trudged up onto the shore, sweatpants waterlogged, skin scraped from the debris that had passed him in the water. He accepted a blanket from one of the emergency workers and waved off the applause, relieved and gratified enough just to see the Frasier fivesome reunited. But he had one destination in mind. The truck. The woman.

Getting her the hell out of there and back into his house, where it was safe.

And he didn’t need to wait long to reassure himself she was all right, because Natalie was running toward him in her nightshirt.

It was the most beautiful thing he’d seen in his entire life—and easily the most terrifying. They were still in a volatile situation with the rain continuing to come down at an alarming rate. If the road behind him could be flooded in seconds, the one they were standing on could, too. Don’t get him started on landslides and falling trees and power lines coming down.

Of course she kept coming. Didn’t slow down at all.

The nightshirt clung to her, black hair stuck in damp curlicues to her neck and cheeks. No shoes. Was she hoping to round off this fine fucking morning with a tetanus shot? Or was she more of a hypothermia girl?

If only she wasn’t the most beautiful sight he’d ever beheld in his life, maybe he could hold on to his anger. But he was aching everywhere, all over his body, for her touch, because he’d had the same recurring thought during the rescue.

What if the last time I saw her, I was shouting at her? What if that’s how she remembers me? After all, there was always risk involved with every mission, no matter how big or small.

Around ten yards away from August, she stubbed her toe on the road and the dinner they’d eventually gotten around to eating around midnight nearly came back up.

August carried her over to the open passenger-side door of the truck, but he walked slowly, because there was nothing in the goddamn universe better than holding this woman, except for maybe holding her in a safe, dry location. “What’s the matter? You’ve never seen a flash flood before?”

She clung harder. “No!”

He took stock of his body, cataloging the chaotic buzz at the base of his throat, the vibrations in his fingertips. The rippling of his heart, which whipped into breakneck speed at her words. “For the record, I’m not calm. I’ve got enough pent-up adrenaline to flip this truck and maybe run a half marathon. If you were the one I had to rescue, Natalie . . .” He shook his head, and kept right on shaking it until he probably looked insane. “I wouldn’t have been coolheaded enough to put on the harness. I’d have jumped in and swum.”

The picture she’d painted in his head—of herself stranded on the island of her blue car in the middle of a swift current—made his arms and knees weak, so he set her down sideways on the passenger seat before he did something humiliating, like collapse in the middle of the road. He was attempting to rein in his stampeding adrenaline and it took him a moment to notice how she was looking at him. Softly, with teeth-marked lips and eyes heavy with moisture, her breasts shuddering up and down. Vulnerable in a way he’d never seen her before. Walls down.

Oh shit. There went his heart. Booming like a cannon. Did she mean what she was saying? Or was she shaken up over the water rescue? He didn’t care. He just wanted his bride. “Forget negotiations.” He leaned down and pressed their foreheads together. “I don’t need any fancy language to know you belong with me.”

She gave him a tearfully dubious look. “It’s not that easy.”

August’s lungs flooded with oxygen so fast, he got lightheaded. The way she said those words didn’t sound all that confident. No, she sounded open to negotiation. As in, she was considering the alternative to returning east? Holy hell. “Yes, you can. You can stay with your husband, who would throw himself into a flood for you.”

He shook his head. “I can’t believe that all it took was a standard water rescue to make you consider staying.”

A watery laugh burst out of her. “There was nothing standard about that. You were heroic. You were . . .” The muscles of her throat worked. “You could have died.”

Not even a beat of hesitation. “Like back-to-back flash floods.”

Her attention dipped to his mouth and the damn thing went dry, like she’d snapped her fingers and wished it. “I love that,” she murmured. “I love some parts of the storm between us.” For long moments, they looked into each other’s eyes. Hers were uncertain, but hopeful, and so beautiful, so fathomless, a chicken bone seemed to be stuck behind his jugular. And it only doubled in size when her legs parted, ever so slightly on the seat, allowing his hips to move in closer to her heat. “Am I really considering staying longer than a month? I don’t have a real job, my family could take me or leave me, and you . . . we barely get along—”

Frantically, August performed another check of his vitals and found the adrenaline hadn’t ebbed whatsoever. If anything, it had skyrocketed at the very real possibility that Natalie might consider staying in St. Helena. That he might actually have a shot at turning their marriage from one of convenience to one that would last.

Forever. Forever, if you asked his heart.

Or his dick. Because the damn thing was forever a backseat driver that wouldn’t be silenced. At the mere suggestion of sinking into Natalie’s warm, wet pussy, dude was growing like Jack’s magic beanstalk. Fuck. He was going to love on that thing so hard, he’d snap the headboard in half. Unfortunately, he might snap the girl of his dreams in half in the process. “You need to give me twenty minutes to flip my tire when we get home.”

Puzzlement knit her forehead together. “Huh?”

She did a double take. Squinted one eye. “Wait, so I’m the princess and my vagina is the queen?”

Silence fell.

But it was interrupted a moment later by her laugh.

A clear, musical sound that twisted his chest up in a knot and forced a hoarse chuckle from his own mouth. Foreheads flush, their bodies shook with mirth in the middle of the still-raging storm. “You’re such a weirdo,” she gasped.

She nodded, turned serious. “Maybe.” Her fingertips traveled down the front of his torso and he saw actual stars when they tucked inside the waistband of his sweatpants. “I don’t want to wait for you to flip the tire.”

Jack’s magic beanstalk was almost at full height. “Tire.”

Colors and shapes blurred in front of his eyes. “What t-tire?”

Footsteps approached from August’s right and he moved on instinct, stepping back from the V of Natalie’s thighs and pushing her knees together. There was only one person that had the privilege of seeing her panties and that person had been reduced to monosyllables.

Someone slapped him on the back.

August looked back over his shoulder to find one of the police officers holding his hand out for a shake. But thanks to his beanstalk being at full maturity, he could only turn partially and slap his hand into the officer’s waiting palm. “Don’t mention it.” The guy just stood there nodding and grinning, shifting in his boots. Oh man, August knew that look. He was seconds from getting invited out for a beer with the bros. “I need to get my wife home before she catches a cold.”

Natalie ran a knuckle down his happy trail and he almost swallowed his tongue. “The only thing I’m going to catch,” she whispered for his ears alone, “is this di—”

She slid gracefully across the front row of his truck, pressing her mouth to his shoulder. Kissing, licking . . . and biting down in way that sent his balls up into his throat.

That magic hand of hers started to stroke him up and down. “Pull over and show me.”

When she stripped the soaked nightshirt over her head, he had his answer.

In a mere scrap of panties, she resumed jacking him off, but this time her hand had entered the end zone. It was inside his sweatpants doing the Lord’s work, playing with his balls and tugging on his cock gently, with a grip that increased in pressure, then got rough.

Now she was stroking his ego, too? He was man enough to know when he’d lost a battle. “You’re damn right you are, princess.”

Her hand was going for broke now. Was someone singing opera in the rear cab of his truck or was that all in his head? “Taking a quick break from our argument to let you know this is the best hand job I’ve ever had in my life. And about ninety-nine percent of those were performed by me, an expert on my own dick. You’re absolutely nailing it.”

Those lips curved into a smile against his jaw, her low-pitched hum coursing through him. “You know what would feel even better . . .”

August gritted his teeth and searched for a break in the trees. There was one around here somewhere. He’d used it to make a K-turn a hundred times after forgetting to buy cat food at the store. Come on, come on. Point of no return. He was going to come in his pants.

There.

Every ounce of blood in his body was located in his lap, making his dick so stiff that he was dizzy by the time he parked the truck, threw open the driver’s side door and dragged Natalie across the seat. Out into the rain. He couldn’t get a breath, couldn’t think about anything but getting inside her, where it was warm and he belonged and she’d get pleasure. Christ, he wanted that more than anything. To bring her off so hard she’d be delirious for a week. “All right, let’s go.” Door closed, he lifted her up against it and pinned her there. Rough enough to rock the vehicle. You’re twice her size. “Natalie, I . . . the adrenaline . . .”

Her panties were ripped to one side, his sweatpants shoved down and he entered her in one fast, upward punch of his hips. And a series of images from his life flashed in front of his eyes. Learning to ride a bike, Hell Week, shopping for socks that would actually fit his big-ass feet. Not a single moment in his existence compared to this. Filling up his woman and finding her soaked as fuck, on the verge of coming from one thrust. “Damn, princess,” he grunted, rattling the window of the truck with a series of quick drives. “Speaking of flash floods—”

Their mouths locked into a kiss and she heaved a broken sound from her throat that made him feel sick with need. And she was ill with want, too. He could tell by the way she closed her eyes so tight during their breathless kiss, her legs wrapped so securely around his hips, he swore they were becoming a part of him. The way she had an orgasm almost immediately, her eyes flooding with anticipation, then going utterly blank, head falling back against the window, thighs quivering uncontrollably. “Oh Jesus, August, yes. Yes. Harder.”

This woman was a treasure. His hips were moving in a battering rhythm, cock harder than a fucking mallet, her ass squeaking up and down the wet door of his truck, and she was asking for more. “Anything you want.”

August learned something about their relationship in that moment.

This woman didn’t let him get away with jack shit.

Not unless he was giving her orgasms.

So apparently he’d be doing a lot of that.

August pried Natalie off the side of the truck and wrenched the driver’s door back open. She dropped her legs from his waist and spun around, gripping the edge of the seat, hips tilted up, her panties half in tatters. He tore them the remaining distance down her legs, licking the crack of her ass on the way up, which was something he wouldn’t mind doing every hour for the rest of his life, especially when she moaned and inched open a little wider. She panted his name, her smooth back puffing up and down. And hell, he was powerless to do anything but lick that pretty pucker some more, pressing between those tight cheeks and worrying his tongue against it. “August.”

She squirmed back against his face. It was truly a thing of beauty. “August.”

If he kept this up, he was going to try something he had no goddamn business trying today, when he couldn’t be slow or gentle to save his life. “Coming, princess.”

He lunged to his feet, pressing forward over Natalie’s back and jerking her up onto her toes, her ass tucked like a dream into his lap. Then he reached down and pushed his cock home, shuddering over the enthusiastic way she welcomed him. She cried out and lifted her butt, giving him that deep access he needed so bad his nuts almost swore out loud.

She heaved two big breaths, tweaking her hips back to meet his fast and furious pumps. “I love fucking my husband.”

Her breath caught and she blinked rapidly several times. Her response probably could have been delayed until later. There was a lot going on, between the pouring rain, thunder, the fact that he was thrusting into her body like humankind depended on him hitting that release button. But she surprised him, moved him, by pushing her back up against his chest, nuzzling her hair into his hand until his fingers loosened automatically to stroke her face. “I need my husband so badly, too.”

Oh boy.

That did it.

His dizziness increased due to the palpitations of his heart and the pressure between his legs. It was system overload. Desperate to bring her with him, never wanting to go anywhere without her ever again, he rubbed her clit the way he knew would roll her eyes back in her head—and with a pair of strangled moans, they lost it. August dropped his face into the valley of her neck and came like a motherfucker, roaring through some rough punches of his hips, making her scream, kicking that second orgasm into overdrive until they were in a heap, draped over the front of the driver’s seat.

He kissed her hair with what little strength he had left. “As long as you need me, Natalie, I’m with you. Whatever you decide, whatever happens, I’m your goddamn man.”

Several seconds ticked by, his chest swelling with every single one. “I love that you know.” I love you. He kept those words from running loose by dragging his lips along the slope of her shoulder. She’d admitted she needed him, that she wanted longer than a month. He needed to be grateful and patient. For now. “Going to take you home—our home—and do everything I can to make sure you don’t forget.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Natalie would say this for August.

He was making a very convincing case for staying in Napa.

She’d lost count of how many times they’d made love last night—the only marathon she’d ever participate in. They’d collapsed into bed after returning from the water rescue that afternoon, their naked skin pressed together head to toe, limbs intwined like they’d never let go. Hours later, she’d woken up aching for him. Aching. So badly that tears had escaped her eyes while she rode him, his fingers buried and twisting in her hair, his hips slamming upward while they feasted on each other’s mouths.

The rest of the night and subsequent morning—a lot of which had been spent together in the shower—were a blur. But this wasn’t. He was back in the barn without her, and it hurt more and more every time. And maybe it shouldn’t. He’d hesitated in the doorway a few hours ago, doubling back and suggesting she help with the administrative side of Zelnick Cellar, like Corinne had suggested . . . but it felt a little like being placated. Or distracted.

So much of August’s heart was made up of honor, but it was all tangled with Sam’s memory. The way he toiled over the wine on his friend’s behalf. The labor was his heart. But locking her out of the process meant he was still guarded. Not letting her in the whole way. And she was truly done settling for half measures when it came to love. That was what she’d gotten from her family, her friends, her colleagues, and Morrison.

It was all or nothing now. With August.

Maybe this was another definitive sign that she loved him.

Full trust was all she could accept.

She needed to focus on the positive—they both continued to evolve within the relationship.

He’d stuck around without storming off during their most recent fight. He’d made vows. Beautiful ones. Built her up in front of her family. Made her feel safe and cherished. Made her laugh. Told her he needed her.

That he was her man.

Did that mean she could simply call Claudia and shut down their concept in its tracks? Her last remaining New York friend had been loyal enough to promise to leave her job and come on board with Natalie. She’d done a ton of leg work over the last month, filing paperwork to register them as a business, making endless calls to find willing investors.

Now it was Thursday morning, one day before the scheduled meeting with potential investor William Banes Savage. This could be liftoff for them. The payoff.

Was she really ready to scrap their blood, sweat, and tears . . .

Not to mention the comeback she’d been dreaming about for months?

Her eyes strayed to the locked door of the barn, an impossible-to-miss dagger twisting in her breastbone. Was he making progress in there? Could she help in a roundabout way—and distract herself from life-altering decisions in the process? Yes. She’d call the bank and set up his loan meeting with Ingram Meyer. That wouldn’t step on August’s toes, would it?

Then she would call Claudia. Let her know that the plan to return permanently to New York was slightly less firm now. That way, if by some miracle she decided to stay, Claudia wouldn’t be blindsided. They would have time to make sure her livelihood was protected.

Secure in her plan, Natalie picked up the phone and called the bank.

A moment later, Ingram’s familiar voice filled her ear. “Mrs. Cates—I had a feeling I would be hearing from you. I assume you noticed the new zeroes in your account. Unless there is some kind of delay, the money should be there by now.”

Zeroes.

Account.

Her trust fund. She’d actually forgotten to check if it had been transferred.

If that didn’t tell Natalie her heart was here with August, nothing would.

* * *

August watched Natalie approach from the house and everything in his head went momentarily silent. Kind of like dropping from a helo into pitch-black water, everything just cut out except for the sound of his heart. Boom boom boom. If he got lucky enough to watch his bride walk toward him on a regular basis for the next sixty years, he’d . . . die a happy man?

No, not quite.

As long as she was breathing, he’d be negotiating for more time with the man upstairs.

Surely God would understand. Natalie was his finest masterpiece.

You won’t persuade her to stay with sex.

What was the key ingredient? What was he failing to give her? The answer seemed just within his reach, but the elusive thing always slipped away before he could define it.

She distracted him from his troubled thoughts with a smile. “Great news. I got us an appointment tomorrow morning to meet with Ingram about the loan for Zelnick. Eight thirty. He’s going to sneak us in before business hours, since he has meetings for the rest of the day.”

And August’s stomach hit the dirt.

Right.

He still hadn’t told her about the investment from his CO.

That he didn’t need capital from the bank at all.

From the beginning, this had been about Natalie getting what she needed. Would she believe that, though, after so many men in her life had used money to control her? August wanted to trust that Natalie knew better than to think that about him. That he was different. But right now, when he’d just gotten her to consider staying in Napa, was not the time to spring a falsehood on her. Anything that might cause her to make the East Coast her final decision. They’d made a deal—and he’d been lying by omission the whole time.

If she left now, when they were so close to finding common ground, he’d fucking break.

So what did he do here?

If they went to the meeting, Ingram would take a look at his bank account and question why he needed funds when his numbers were already healthy, thanks to his CO. And if he didn’t go to the meeting, Natalie would question him.

Come on, universe.

He just needed a little longer to make sure she was his—permanently.

* * *

August had a habit of asking Sam for advice when he had no idea what to do. So that was where he went in the wee hours of the morning. He left the most incredible woman on the planet sleeping naked in his bed—painful, by the way—and he made the drive to the cemetery, making sure to leave enough time to get back for the bank appointment.

If he went through with it and didn’t end up calling Natalie to cancel. Maybe it was wise to tell her the truth in front of witnesses.

The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon when August sat down exactly five feet and nine inches from Sam’s headstone, not wanting to sit on his friend. He wasted no time burying his head in his hands and blurting out everything that had taken place since the morning of the wedding. “If I had one wish, it would be for you to meet her, man. She is such a badass.” Christ, he was welling up. “It feels like . . . one misstep and I’m going to lose her. I hope it doesn’t feel this risky forever, but even if it did, I would stick like glue. She’s worth walking through an endless field of landmines.” He blew out a breath. “Tell me what to do about this bank meeting, man.”

Usually, he could conjure Sam’s voice out of thin air. Imagine what his friend would say. But this time, his imagination didn’t comply. The sound of his friend’s voice was growing more and more faint; he couldn’t get the tone right, had no idea what advice Sam would give him—and the lack of reassurance and fogginess of Sam’s memory was too much on top of everything else.

He lay back in the grass and closed his eyes, taking deep breaths so his emotions wouldn’t run away with him. Not when he needed to be present this morning, because establishing his marriage to Natalie was his sole focus.

But when he closed his eyes, the stress of indecision caught up with him.

And he fell asleep dreaming of Natalie’s smile.

* * *

8:52.

No August.

Natalie looked down at the screen of her phone, willing him to return her calls. Or one of the numerous texts she’d sent. They were late for the loan meeting with Ingram and honestly, they might as well not even bother going inside now. Ingram had only a thirty-minute window to spare and much of that was gone now.

This wasn’t like him.

Then again . . . maybe it was?

They’d been married for only six days. Maybe it was totally within his character to leave before she woke up without any prior warning. And not just to push his tire—but to leave. Off the property. She’d gone looking for him around the house and in both barns, the unsettled feeling in her stomach yawning wider by the moment. Was something wrong? Did he have an emergency? Why didn’t he wake her up to help?

Then she’d finally found the note, attached to her favorite coffee mug.

Went to see Sam.

Until that moment, she’d never speculated on when August might bring her to see Sam. Or if he ever would. But as close as they’d been yesterday and last night, the way she’d been so vulnerable with him, August going to the cemetery alone felt a little like being shut out. Again. Perhaps it wasn’t a rational reaction, but tell that to her heart while it sank like a setting sun. August had a whole private part of his life, his grief, and he guarded it like a lion.

It was a part of him she’d never touch. She just had to accept that.

She’d just given herself to this man, not only in name now, but emotionally.

Less than a day later, she felt as if he’d dropped her without a safety net.

Reluctantly, she started her car and pulled out of the parking space in front of the bank. She didn’t feel like going home, though. To August’s house. It was too quiet without him there and she was looking for some reassurance, not more questions.

To be fair, she should have known that the Vos estate was the last place she should go. Maybe she was a masochist or maybe she had a tiny bit of hope that her relationship with Corinne was getting stronger. She’d surprised her mother with her research on VineWatch, right? Plus, if she and Corinne could relate to each other about anything, it was a man disappointing them. So home she went, with a frisson of hope in her chest.

It was doused the moment she pulled into the circular driveway and she saw two hybrids parked outside. The VineWatch logo was silk-screened onto their windows. Two men and one woman in khakis and navy blue polo shirts had just alighted from the vehicles. And Julian and Corinne were approaching them to shake hands.

She’d obviously just crashed their meeting.

A meeting they were having without her. As if she should be surprised.

Yet, she was? Obviously, she still had the capacity to be hurt by her family, because her stomach turned completely around and all she could do was stare.

Julian must have caught sight of her, because he was suddenly standing beside the driver’s-side window, signaling for her to roll it down.

If that didn’t sum up how she felt about everything, this entire day, maybe her entire life at this very moment in time, nothing did.

Julian straightened his tie, openly befuddled. “I see. She didn’t want to interrupt your first week as a married couple with business. For the record, I knew you’d want to be here—”

What am I doing in this stupid town?

Nothing had changed. She would always be the odd one out. In her family. In her marriage. New York was the only place she’d ever been a consideration to others. It was the only place her input had ever been valued.

Not here.

Never here.

They wouldn’t even miss her.

Thank God she’d never called Claudia to cancel the meeting with William Banes Savage.

As soon as Natalie walked through the door of August’s house, she opened her laptop and swapped her midafternoon flight for the next possible plane to New York. Feeling in control for the first time in months, she sent the boarding pass to her phone and tucked the laptop into her purse. One hour until she needed to leave for the airport and August still wasn’t home. Was he having a hard time with the visit to Sam?

Not my problem. He’s made that clear.

Pain carved a slice out of her chest, calling her a liar. She had to pause in the act of packing her small carry-on bag in order to breathe. It seemed that shutting herself off from August wasn’t going to be an easy process. Not like it had been before, with her ex. With every ex, really. If recovering from breakups was an Olympic sport, she would have medaled in all events. Vaulting over the truth. Sprinting away from accountability.

She wouldn’t win gold so easily in the August relay race.

Her chest was a dumpster fire. And leaving for the airport without saying goodbye wasn’t going to give her the vindication she wanted. The way she kept staring at the front door of the house, hoping he would walk through it, made that obvious.

The barn caught her eye through the window. Off-limits. She wasn’t allowed to go in there and mess with his fermentation process.

Well, too bad.

Natalie shoved her feet into some flats and stomped out of the bedroom, stepping over the sprawled cat on her way to the front door. She yanked it open, hating the way hope that August’s truck would be parked outside rose in her chest. It was not. There was nothing but an empty slab of concrete decorated with oil stains.

With her heart in her mouth, she paraded into the barn. She was surprised to find that the farther she ventured into August’s off-limits workshop, the more the bowstrings inside her chest loosened. Sure, she didn’t have his express consent to be in there, among his things, but she’d never consented to him making her fall in love with him, only to be compartmentalized. Kept at a distance. Close but not too close, the way her family kept her.

August wasn’t supposed to do that to her, too.

Natalie realized she was staring across the rows of oak barrels through a veil of tears. Her nose was on fire and those flames followed a trail of kerosine to the dead center of her chest, lighting up that sad, suffering organ and turning it to ashes. Partially.

Some part of it must have remained beating, because she swiped at her nose and pulled out the stopper from the first barrel, immediately recognizing the need for filtration.

Nobody wanted her help, especially August.

Well, that was too damn bad, wasn’t it?

* * *

I fell asleep. How could I fall asleep with her waiting for me?

How could I do that?

When August pulled into his usual spot outside the house, his stomach was already a bubbling cauldron of acid. Because she wouldn’t answer his calls, they went straight to voice mail and now, her blue hatchback was gone. Natalie’s car. Was gone.

He dove out of the truck and without missing a beat, started shouting, “Natalie.”

She wasn’t inside the house. He knew it, because if she was anywhere in the vicinity, he would feel that welcome presence. Despite that intuition, he almost kicked down the door of the house, because his fingers wouldn’t work well enough to unlock it, shouting her name the whole time.

When he got inside, it was dead silent. Menace sat perched on the edge of a dining room chair, her expression nothing short of a narrow-eyed accusation. Panic rising, he took out his phone and called Natalie, cursing a blue streak when it went to voice mail again. Maybe she’d just gone to Vos Vineyard? Maybe she’d been pissed off at him enough to move some of her things back to the guest house? Because, yeah. His wife was not in the bedrooms or the bathroom and her fucking toothbrush was gone‚ a fact that made his windpipe shrink to the size of a pinhole.

Julian would know if she’d gone to the guest house.

He’d call Julian.

August didn’t notice his hand was shaking until he hit the number for Natalie’s brother. “Yes?” answered the professor on the second ring.

Julian remained silent a little too long.

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.”

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.

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.

August wailed something unintelligible.

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.”

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.

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

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.

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—”

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.”

He smirked. “My gamble paid off.”

Those four words made one thing painfully obvious. Savage knew she’d been fired. Of course he did. News like that didn’t stay quiet in the financial sector, especially when she’d been such a visible force prior to disappearing. Tonight was the first time she’d looked anyone from the finance world in the face and had her demise addressed. It was a lot easier than she’d imagined it would be. Almost like the sting was gone. Being revered by power players was no longer the most important thing in her life. What was?

Or more specifically . . . who?

Natalie breathed through a wave of loneliness.

Oh God, why hadn’t she chosen a different restaurant?

This was a typical haunt for analysts. She recognized several faces at the bar.

Natalie turned back around, praying her face wasn’t fuchsia. Keep talking. “To these men, safe equals stagnant. It makes them begin to wonder if there is a cash flow. Or nothing but dusty stacks languishing somewhere, waiting to be inherited. Is investing with me a gamble? Yes. But it’s also a signal to the sharks that you’ve got more than enough money. Money to set on fucking fire, if you want to. Maybe that’s the equivalent to investing with me. Ringing a bell that says, ‘I take risks, I know something you don’t know’? It opens more doors. It puts your name in someone’s mouth when they’re considering who to bring in on the investment of the century. It makes you fresh.”

Natalie sat back in her chair.

Familiar faces at the bar were staring. She could feel heat on her back. They were slowly noticing she was in the same establishment as her ex and his future wife. They were hoping to see fireworks. More than likely, they also knew she was there to court this man’s influence and were hoping to get a hint at the outcome. Sharks, indeed.

Had her spiel worked? It was difficult to tell. Savage no longer had his smirk, but he looked more irritable than inspired by her speech. He was wiping a corner of his mouth over and over again, unnecessarily, while considering Natalie closely. “I need a little more time to consider it,” he said finally, throwing down the napkin.

Okay. That was more promising than an outright hell no.

Where was the sense of victory? Or even hope?

Totally absent, that’s where.

She’d given the pitch her best effort. For herself. For Claudia.

Might as well admit it, though. She’d been hoping he’d say no.

Obviously, he’d seen her ex arrive. This was either a test of her mettle or he just wanted to pay Natalie back for pointing out his lack of risk taking at dinner. “If I made a habit of avoiding uncomfortable situations, I wouldn’t be here right now at all.”

He inclined his head, as if to say, Prove it.

It was worse than she’d expected. Every eye in the place was fastened on her. She’d rubbed elbows with most of these analysts and portfolio managers over the years at this very place, smiling while they gloated over their client list. Attended a couple of their weddings, even. Now she was nothing but tomorrow’s gossip at the office.

Making eye contact with Morrison was inevitable and everyone was watching to see how it would happen. No matter how she handled this, they would embellish the story or recast her as scorned and jealous. But in this moment, the only person who mattered was the investor she was trying to woo. Although, God, being tested by this dude was getting exhausting. She was beginning to lose sight of why it mattered.

She also just really, really wanted to go home to August.

Swallowing the fistful of tacks in her throat, Natalie followed William the remaining distance to the bar and let her gaze drift across to where Morrison was sitting with his fiancée. Giving them a wave and smile wasn’t nearly as hard as she expected. Actually, it felt kind of good. Like closure. But that didn’t stop everyone around her from whispering. Snickering in their single malt scotch. Having yet another laugh at her expense—

The thought died in its inception when someone else walked into the bar.

August.

August?

No, her eyes had to be playing tricks on her.

How . . . ?

It . . . was really him. There was no mistaking the giant ex-SEAL for anyone else. His wide shoulders had been wrestled into a navy blue suit jacket, his hair brushed back and semi-damp, his face clean-shaven. He sucked all the unwanted attention away from Natalie like an extra-large vacuum. Men who’d been hunkered over the bar stood up straighter now, as if commanded, trying to compete with August’s height and swagger.

Dear God, the swagger.

He walked in like everyone owed him a hundred bucks, but he was too lazy to collect.

Where had he found a tailor who could craft a suit big enough to fit three normal-sized men? And there was no use pretending it didn’t make him look like sex on two thick, tireflipping legs. Head to toe, her flesh flushed and turned tight.

I’m flustered. I’m actually flustered by my husband.

Probably because the last time she’d seen him, he’d been feeding her orgasms like candy. Just popping them into her mouth like Mentos.

More, please, sir.

Wait.

Natalie shook herself. What was he doing here?

Time slowed considerably when she met August’s eyes. He’d rounded the corner of the bar, striding in that overly cocky way right in her direction, and now she was actually jealous for the first time that night. Because that suit clung to his powerful body the way she wanted to—wrapped around every inch of him, tied in a knot and worn out.

When August was a few feet away, however, something else rippled through the lust.

Joy.

Flat-out joy to see him.

That she wouldn’t have to wait to be back in St. Helena. He was here.

He should have been here all along. They should have been together.

That was what the buzzing in her head had been trying to tell her.

Natalie held her breath as her husband came to a stop right in front of her. The loud conversation in the bar area had died down to a hum. Or maybe the waves crashing in Natalie’s head were drowning out the sound? And they crashed even louder when August leaned down and kissed her cheek, his hand landing possessively on her hip. Squeezing in silent communication. I missed you. Or was she projecting?

Blood rushed to her ears and started pounding. Movements around them seemed to be happening in a dream, all grainy and distant. The inch between them shrank until it no longer existed, the fronts of their bodies meeting, pressing, the rate of her heartbeat tripling. “I would have been home tomorrow.”

If she didn’t armor herself immediately, she was going down. RIP Natalie. “I’m still angry at you for missing the meeting. For—”

Denial hit her like a truck. Oh . . . no. She’d left him to deal with that alone?

In her periphery, she saw his eye crinkle at the corner, lips twitching. “Even better than my wedding tux?”

She sucked down another breath of grapefruit, then pushed him away slightly. On second thought, she tugged him a tiny bit closer.

I’m losing my mind.

August took hold of her indecisive wrists without a word and dropped his mouth to the space right above her ear, rumbling, “Babe.”

It was the equivalent of putting a pin in a balloon. She just unloaded. “I don’t think I’m going to get the investment and . . . instead of business, it just feels like another man using money to make me dance, you know?” She watched the lump move up and down in August’s throat. “Everyone is staring at me. They think I’m a joke. And Morrison just arrived out of the blue with his future wife, sitting at the bar, making me the live entertainment for the evening.”

August stiffened at the mention of her ex. “How do you feel about seeing him?”

He’d made himself vulnerable by giving her the truth when he walked in. She couldn’t do anything but return the favor now. “I don’t feel a thing.”

His chest shuddered up and down, tension ebbing from his burly frame. “And when I walked in?”

A gruff sound left him, throat muscles shifting in a pattern.

He opened his mouth to say something, but they were interrupted by Savage.

August nodded. “Nice to meet you, too.”

Savage studied her husband. “Are you some kind of athlete or something?” he asked, rolling a shoulder.

Her husband looked down at her. “I’m sure you’ve heard plenty of them tonight from Natalie already, though, right? I don’t know a lot about the financial world, but a woman on Wall Street would have to fight harder than anyone, I imagine.”

Savage laughed. “Harder than a SEAL? I’m not sure about that.”

August’s eyes seemed to darken a shade. “It’s a different kind of fighting. And she has fought her way back here with almost no support. No one encouraging her to do it. God only knows where her inner strength comes from, but I’ll tell you something, it’s more than I’ve got. It’s enough to keep putting herself out there with no reward and I feel sorry for anyone who doesn’t take someone with that much bravery seriously.”

It took everything inside of Natalie not to burst into tears. He was right. She’d been kicking ass and clawing her way back and that effort had gone unacknowledged. By anyone. And she wasn’t the only woman who went about her daily grind only for people to expect more, so she liked to think all of womankind celebrated with her in that moment. When her husband finally got it. When he finally saw her.

The investor had gone from jocular to thoughtful during August’s speech. He turned his attention to her now. “If I trust you with my money, what’s your first play?”

Natalie took a deep breath and let it rip. “Obviously we’re going with a classic long/short equity strategy. We make the smart investments that put us ahead and give us room to play and then we short technologies, pharma, oil based on bold predictions and market trends. And I’m not just talking about the United States. We’re going to monitor markets and how consumers respond in every geographical location on the face of the earth, taking everything down to the fucking weather patterns into account. If your money isn’t tripled in the first quarter, I’ll give you back every cent of your initial investment.”

A muscle hopped in Savage’s cheek. August’s pride was evident in every line of his body, but she couldn’t risk looking at him or she’d lose her cool.

Natalie shook her head to hide the creeping amusement, breezing past her husband and beginning the journey toward the exit. “Only you would make the romantic gesture of flying across the country and ruin it with ball talk in, like, eight seconds.”

August followed so close behind her, she could feel his body heat through the clingy material of her dress. “Eight seconds is a lifetime when a man has no testicular circulation.”

He grunted.

They were passing by Natalie’s ex and his fiancée. Both of them sipped their drinks and looked coolly at Natalie and August as they passed. Or maybe they were just wary? If she recalled correctly, she and her partner’s daughter had gotten along great at company functions. The situation itself was simply awkward. Just not for Natalie. For some reason, she felt totally comfortable stopping beside the couple, laying a hand on both of their backs, and saying a heartfelt congratulations. She’d never really loved Morrison, so what was the sense in begrudging the fact that he’d found love elsewhere?

Her ex smiled at his intended. She smiled back. Simultaneously, they thanked Natalie.

Then she took August’s hand and after a little tugging—August clearly wanted to say something to her ex—they continued toward the elevator that would bring them down to street level. “What were you going to say to him?” she asked as they stepped inside, the gold doors snapping together in front of them.

He grinned over at her. “Your turn.”

Natalie let her head tip back. Gone was the stiffness that had been building since she boarded her flight. Fun. She was having fun. Did she always have fun with this man, even when they were arguing? “Wall Street. And Bridesmaids.”

Without warning, August backed her up against the wall of the elevator, his mouth stopping just a whisper above hers. “You know I’m trying to follow your lead and be mature, but I actually wanted to punch your ex in the face, right?”

Deep down, she had. She’d known that like she knew her own name. “Yes,” she breathed.

Her brain said, Sex. Sex right here and right now.

Unfortunately, the elevator doors opened to reveal a dozen people staring back.

With a muttered curse, August took her hand and led her through the throng of people, toward the street. “Where are you staying?” he asked, guiding her through the glass door of the building and out onto the sidewalk. It was a Friday night in a part of town where not a ton of bars were located anyway, so most of the pedestrians were working stiffs who’d stayed late at the office. But traffic roared by at its usual breakneck pace, horns bleeping expletives, music drifting out of car windows, passersby holding conversations on their phones.

Natalie battled the disappointment. “You . . . booked a room?”

He brought her hands to his mouth and kissed her knuckles, leaving her heart fluttering wildly in her throat. Over his touch. His words. The perceptiveness of them.

She’d underestimated him yet again, hadn’t she?

Being apart? He assumed her decision had been made to leave Napa. Permanently.

On the plane ride here, that was where her compass had been pointing. New York.

For good.

Now she wasn’t so sure. How could she remove herself from this man’s life when he’d walked in tonight and stitched her back together just by existing? She was deeply in love with August Cates and somewhere along the way, that started meaning more to her than a comeback.

A lot more.

Her indecision was causing him to suffer, so she needed to make a choice. Now. Tonight.

And when she looked up at this man, there really was no decision to make at all, was there?

Chapter Twenty-Five

So this is love.

A painful motherfucker.

That old saying, If you love somebody, let them go, actually had real-life applications and it was galling and horrible, to say the least. But Jesus, what he’d said was the truth. She fit into that bar full of millionaires tonight like sugar in coffee. A much-needed dose of sweet among the bitterness. Gorgeous and ready to take on the world—it was right there on her face.

He’d felt like a jackass walking in there, stuffed into his suit. Palms sweating.

The truth of why he’d come wouldn’t stay out of his mouth. Hell, telling Natalie how he felt about her was becoming this thing he needed to do to breathe. But taking her to bed knowing she would come back to this city one day soon and stay? Might as well perform open heart surgery on him without the painkillers.

Those fancy hotel elevators would take them upstairs. To a room with a really nice bed and, yeah, that business formal dress she was wearing would come off so easily. Just slide right down to the floor. He’d get on his knees and eat her out until her head spun. She wouldn’t be nearly as polished when he finished with her.

August sighed, resisting the urge to adjust his erection. “I doubt that.”

She blinked innocently. “You’re not thinking of going down on me?”

Now it was August’s turn to blink. And he did. About ninety-six times. “Did you not hear a word I said before? About protecting myself?”

That sounded like a pretty damn good reason to go upstairs, now didn’t it?

August gnashed his molars together and tried to smile at the same time.

Everything hurt. His heart, brain, and dick were a trifecta of misery.

Because, God, she was beautiful. The whole lobby had to be staring at his wife. If he could tear his eyes off her for a second, he might be able to confirm. He’d have flown back and forth between coasts for the rest of his life, just to be standing there to hear her voice. He also knew a long-distance relationship between them would never work, because he’d resent every second away from her and he still had a responsibility to Sam. And now to his CO.

The reminder of his commanding officer forced him to recall what Natalie had said back in the bar. I don’t think I’m going to get the investment and . . . instead of business, it just feels like another man using money to make me dance, you know?

He’d come to New York to lay his faults at her feet, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell her he’d kept a two-hundred-thousand-dollar investment a secret. She was already most likely leaving him, did he really have to make her hate him, too? Put him in a category with her father, the investor, and the ex-fiancé? His heart wouldn’t withstand the blow.

What was going on in her head right now? A groove had formed between her eyebrows and she appeared to be trapped between a rock and a hard place. Was this it? Was she going to end things right here and now?

Don’t think of their wedding night.

Don’t—

Too late.

He’d think of her mouth that night in his final moments on earth.

Right now, however, he needed to make it through a few more minutes. After which he would take a cab back to his hotel and get to his room as fast as possible. Then he would pull up those pictures that he’d added to his camera roll from social media and stroke one out to Natalie in her wedding dress. If that wasn’t a sign that he’d grown obsessed with this woman, nothing was. He actually got off remembering the moment she’d vowed in public to be his wife. That couldn’t be normal.

Natalie gripped the meatiest part of his arms and shook him. “August. I know. I know you can’t walk me to my room without coming inside.” She slid her palms up, along his shoulders and higher, cradling his face. It felt so incredible, he had to stifle a moan. “You don’t have to protect yourself. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I’m coming home with you. To St. Helena. I’m staying there. With you. Because of you.”

What?

August’s lungs were suddenly empty, the lobby sounds dulling to a whisper around him.

Had someone slipped him an Ambien on the plane and he was dreaming this whole scenario, because he could have sworn Natalie just said she was coming home with him.

His entire body was one big pulse and he could barely gather his thoughts over the booming noise it made. “I don’t understand. You’re coming back to stay, even though I’ve been a jackass? Even though you have the trust fund? And the investor?”

He doubled over, bracing his hands on his knees, doubt finally giving way to joy, which spread through him like wildfire. “You better not be pranking me.”

They took a giant step toward each other at the same time, Natalie tucking her small, elegant hand into his larger one. Their fingers threaded together and held.

Christ, what a privilege. This was happening. It was actually happening.

The elevator ride to Natalie’s floor was a blur. He couldn’t even scramble enough brain power to kiss her, because it was all occupied with relief and shock and happiness. So much happiness. Doors opened, feet moved along a carpeted hallway, and with her room in sight, their official reunion imminent, his brain finally, blessedly came back online. Mostly.

When had he backed her up against the door? Their mouths were a breath away from touching, her tits flattened against his chest. He was burning alive with the need to give her an orgasm. Hearing her demands, feeling those fingers twist in his hair, her pussy clamping down—

If a hotel guest happened by at that moment, they would have assumed Natalie was being mugged, he reached for her bag so fast. “Key, princess. Key.”

A desperate sound bubbled out of her, both of them fumbling to get the clasp open on her purse and locate the card. He slapped it up against the sensor, groaning when the light turned green, and walked her into the room, kicking the door shut behind them. As horny as August was, spurred on by her request for wall sex, he expected to be the aggressor.

He was wrong.

Natalie shoved the jacket off his shoulders and started to unknot his tie, abandoning the task halfway through to work on his belt, leaving the tie sagging around his neck. Spoiler: nothing else was sagging. A fact Natalie discovered a few seconds later when she unzipped his fly and stuck her hand inside, molding it around August’s cock.

He pressed her up against the wall, dragged her mouth into a frantic kiss. I’m kissing my woman. Thank God. “What?” he said, breaking for air. “You need me to know what?”

Her eyes were glassy, dazed. Needy. “You have the best dick,” she whispered. “I mean, I-I was thinking about it on the plane. During a business dinner. If you mass produced a mold of this thing, a lot of people would be less angry.”

He tugged her panties down, over her knees, letting them fall to her ankles.

She looked vulnerable after the admission, so he made his own, something inside him demanding he match her step for step. Emotionally, physically. At all times. “I was preparing myself to live off memories of you for the rest of my life. It was going to kill me.” He knelt down in front of her, drawing her right knee up and settling the arch of her foot on his shoulder. “Can’t believe I get to live off you, instead. Can’t believe you’re letting me live.”

The tenderness in her eyes undid him to the point of dizziness. “There’s no letting here. You’re the best decision I’ve ever made.”

A gruff sound left August, his desperation to be joined with this woman growing to the point of pain. He wanted to lock himself to her emotionally, physically. Any manner available. She was his wife and she’d soaked herself in anticipation of his mouth, his cock. The sense of responsibility to deliver, to give her pleasure and heal both of their wounds, had August surging forward and kissing her mound. Traveling lower. Pushing apart her flesh gently with his tongue and finding that bud, greeting it carefully, then with more vigor as her moans increased in volume and her fingers ripped at the strands of his hair. “August.”

He trailed the fingertips of his right hand up her left inner thigh, leaving a trail of goose bumps behind. While she was struggling to breathe, he traced the seam of her pussy with his middle finger, then tucked it deep, all while flicking his tongue against her clit. And she just sort of melted back against the wall, her flesh clamping around his knuckle, begging for a second finger. So he gave it to her in one possessive shove, then kept his digits pumping in and out of her while he stood, taking her mouth from above in a starved kiss.

Victory and elation and a million other emotions rocked August.

My wife. My wife.

He punched his hips upward and sank deep, groaning into the wall beside her head while she whimpered through her first orgasm. “Left you primed for that one, didn’t I? You love the way I tongue fuck it.”

Natalie speared her fingers into his hair and brought him in for a wild, almost animalistic kiss, eager little sounds coming from her throat. She was close, so close—and then her trembles turned to an earthquake, her lips releasing his to cry out, her body still getting pummeled up against the wall. His grunts turned to growls, his hips slapping upward between her thighs, eagerly experiencing her orgasm along with her. The throb and clench of his wife.

His chest nearly caved in after saying the words, but he couldn’t hold them back, because they belonged to her. He belonged to her, and she should know it. Maybe she wasn’t quite able to say it back just yet. And that was okay. He should expect her to be hesitant after keeping her at a distance. He’d wait forever, for the rest of his life, for those three words from her, if necessary. For now, he should just be grateful she was coming home.

As soon as he’d finished completely, he stumbled on half numb legs to the bed, Natalie safe in his arms, and he lay down, pulling her as close as possible, kissing his way across her hairline. Her warm breath bathed his throat and he wrapped his arms tighter, drawing the duvet around their half-naked bodies as best he could when they were on top of the covers. “August, I don’t think you realize what it means to me that you came all the way here,” she said softly. “I don’t think you realize how valued and important that made me feel. Thank you.”

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—”

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.”

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.

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.

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?”

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.”

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.”

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.”

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.

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

* * *

A handful of days later, on the way home from buying August socks without holes—seriously, he didn’t own a single intact pair—Natalie had the craziest urge to pull over and buy flowers, too. The shopping trip was quite a departure from her usual routine of popping into one of St. Helena’s many wine stores around four P.M. for a bottle—and backup bottle—of Cabernet. Who was this person she was slowly turning into? She hadn’t even blow-dried her hair this morning, she’d just showered and let it dry in haphazard waves, because she couldn’t wait to meet August in the facility, where he was already up and working.

Each morning, while she drank her coffee, she watched him from the window of the house, smiling into every sip as he continually glanced over his shoulder, waiting for her to come join him. Visibly eager to have his partner in crime out in the barn at his side. She’d gladly given up her blow-drying time in the mornings just to watch it. Observe how much he wanted her company. How much he wanted her around, all the time.

Now, Natalie pulled onto the dusty shoulder, parked, and got out. She had groceries in the back of the car so August could make them dinner tonight, because some things would never change. She wasn’t going to become a chef, in addition to becoming a vintner. There was only one cook in the family, as evidenced by her pitiful attempt at eggs yesterday. Genius move, marrying a man who was accustomed to surviving on field rations—he’d choked them down without blinking and appeared only mildly seasick afterward.

On her way to the flower stand, her heart swelled so much that her entire chest felt like a struck funny bone. The gooey sensation melted down into her fingertips and tingled there. And she walked faster, wanting to get home.

Something inside her was healing at a rapid rate, not only because of this love stampede that had totally trampled her beneath its hooves. But because she’d pushed for exactly what she needed and deserved. She’d accepted nothing less and the reward . . .

It reminded her of the wild blooms that burst from all corners of the road-side stand. Colorful. Beautiful. Every time she looked at one of the bouquets, she saw something new, something different. She’d spent a long time on one side of a wall, with her fear of rejection, and August had been behind a different one. They couldn’t see each other until they’d both climbed over and met in the middle. In a sea of flowers.

Or grapes, as it were.

Natalie’s head came up, a puzzled expression on her face. She hadn’t narrowed it down to two options yet. Was the flower vendor speaking to her?

A gentleman she hadn’t noticed before had approached from the opposite end of the shoulder. Wait . . . she recognized the man. It was August’s CO. Commander Zelnick. What was he doing back in St. Helena?

The commander glanced at Natalie from the corner of his eye and nodded politely, but he obviously didn’t recognize her—and no wonder. Last time she met the man, she’d been in a skirt and blouse with perfectly coiffed hair and makeup. Currently, she was in a loose pair of boyfriend jeans, a tank top, and no bra, with sunburned cheeks, and she looked like she’d just been through a wind tunnel.

She approached the CO slowly, intending to reintroduce herself and ask what had brought him back to St. Helena, but he spoke to the vendor first. “I’m not sure. I met her only once, but I think she’s more the roses type.”

Was it possible . . . he was here to visit August and those flowers were for her? More than possible. It was likely. Who else could this man know in a town where he didn’t reside?

As the flower salesman went about wrapping the roses in paper, Natalie approached, clearing her throat softly. “Excuse me, Commander Zelnick. It’s me. Natalie. August’s wife.” There was no way to stop the smile that spread across her mouth after saying those words, so she simply let it grow and held out her hand for a shake. “I think you’re buying me flowers?”

After a moment of clear confusion, he merely looked chagrined. “I’m sorry.” He shook her hand once, firmly. “I didn’t recognize you.”

I don’t recognize myself these days.

At least all the new, good parts.

Natalie nodded. “I thought as much.” She gestured to her dusty jeans. “We’ve spent some time out working in the vineyard today, cultivating the soil. I ran to the store to grab some ingredients for dinner—more than enough for three. I assume you’re on your way to see August?”

He trailed off, expecting Natalie to jump in with an answer. She didn’t have one.

Investment?

Obviously not picking up on the fact that she was stunned, the man continued on while unearthing his car keys from the pocket of his slacks. “I know it has been only a few weeks, but I’m eager to see what improvements have been made.”

A few weeks.

The commander had given August money? For the vineyard?

They’d been in such a happiness haze since returning from New York, they hadn’t really spoken about the missed appointment with Ingram at the bank. They’d made no move to reschedule. August hadn’t even brought it up. If his commanding officer had given August an investment weeks ago, had he ever needed a bank loan in the first place?

Had he been keeping a secret, too?

Had he even needed to marry her?

* * *

August took the rag out of his back pocket and swiped it across his sweaty brow, a smile curving his lips when he heard a car pull up in front of the house. Honey, I’m home. He’d been begging Natalie to utter that phrase just once and she’d refused, but he’d get it out of her eventually. Maybe tonight. Maybe now.

He stripped off his shirt.

Went to the back door and did a few pull-ups on the doorframe, hoping it would make his muscles pop. His wife was a sucker for these pecs, which was only fair, because he was a sucker for her. The week since returning from New York was not just the happiest of his life, it was the happiest of anyone’s life, and he’d fight whoever disagreed.

As if he could even locate enough irritation inside himself to throw a punch. He was all sunshine and doves below the neck these days. His wife was really his wife. She was happy with him. She actually fucking loved him back, this human work of art. With every passing day, he discovered more about her, too. Her ticklish spots, her very precise routine in the shower that involved around nine different products, all of which smelled like goddamn heaven, the silly voice she used to speak to the cat when she thought he couldn’t hear.

The hopeful way she talked about her family as they continued to reconnect, the intent way she listened, like she couldn’t wait to be his confidant, the way she sometimes just needed a rubber band for her hair. Seriously, he’d started keeping a collection of the little black bands on his wrist, because she could never seem to find one, despite the fact that they were everywhere in the house. Sometimes all he had to do to make her smile was hand her a rubber band so she could put her hair up in one of those crazy knots. The first time it happened, she’d looked at him like he’d just turned his chair around for her on The Voice.

They fought over control of the television remote.

They fought over a lot of things.

She couldn’t cook for shit.

And he loved her with the fire of a thousand suns.

Which made those fights end pretty damn quickly, because his chest started to sting and all he wanted was to make her happy again. It helped that she didn’t like fighting with him anymore, either. She’d grumped at him this morning before her coffee and two minutes later, she’d been crawling onto his lap at the dining room table with apology kisses. Leading to apology sex. His nuts were back in a knot right now, just thinking about how she’d pouted the word sorry against his mouth, straddling him.

Rocking just once on his lap and liquefying his brain.

Was it possible to marry her again? Or did he have to wait a certain number of years to renew their vows?

This phenomenal woman had snuck over barriers he didn’t even know existed inside him. She’d started helping him bring Sam’s dream to life . . . and slowly it was becoming their dream, too. Yeah, it was becoming theirs, and that was more than okay. It was his life now and he desperately wanted to go on living it forever.

August dropped down from the doorframe after a few more pull-ups, his brow knitting over the arrival of a second car. Who was that?

When he walked out of the barn, the person he needed to see was Natalie—and he did. Briefly. She glanced at him with a strange look on her face as she slipped into the house with a bunch of roses in her arms, shutting the door behind her. What the hell was that?

He started after her, stopping short when his CO climbed out of the second car.

As always, his spine snapped straight at the sound of his commanding officer’s voice, but his mind didn’t follow. Not this time. Something was up with his wife. Why was his neck tingling like danger was imminent?

Commander Zelnick approached with his hands clasped behind his back. “I don’t mean to keep surprising you like this, Cates, but I never know when I’m going to get enough free time to drive up from Coronado.” He nodded at the barn. “I trust things are on their way to improving.”

He didn’t mean it to sound ridiculous, but his mouth wasn’t connecting with his brain. She’d stopped to buy flowers? For their house? Why did that make him feel like there was a potato sack race happening inside his chest? And why hadn’t she smiled at him?

Was something wrong?

Yes. Something is wrong.

He’d been avoiding thinking about it during their week of bliss, but with the appearance of his commanding officer, the monumental thing he’d been keeping from Natalie jumped up and dug its teeth into his jugular. Every time he thought he had gathered enough courage to tell her about the investment, he recalled the way her father and ex-fiancé had manipulated her with the contents of their bank accounts. Or her trust fund. Not to mention, the investor she’d met with in New York. How she resented their refusal to be straightforward about money.

A little longer, he kept thinking. I’ll tell her about the investment once some time has passed since my last fuckup. Really, it had been just over a week since he’d sent her running to the other side of the country. They were so happy. He’d just wanted more things about their marriage in the pro column before he added deceptive about money to the con side.

The man only looked confused. “Why not?”

This was bad. This was very bad.

His spleen was seconds from erupting, and he didn’t even know where his spleen was located. Or its function.

Fix it. Fix it now.

August took a deep breath on his journey toward the house. “That’s probably a good idea, sir.”

With a brisk nod, the commanding officer strode to his car, as if a battle awaited.

And it did. The big one.

Why the hell had August kept this from her for so long? Didn’t he know better by now?

August paused with his hand on the doorknob, then opened the door carefully, waiting a beat, just in case a plate or frying pan came flying at his head. “Princess?”

No answer.

Shit. I’m screwed.

Silent treatment from Natalie was so much worse than arguing, because he didn’t get to hear her voice and it meant her feelings were injured. Utter torture.

August stopped short just inside the door, because a sight greeted him that he wasn’t expecting. Natalie was standing in the middle of the kitchen, wringing her hands. She appeared to be . . . nervous? Why?

Did people get nervous before they asked for a divorce?

Probably.

Acid flooded his organs, so thick he could taste it in his mouth.

Several seconds passed in silence.

Then, to his surprise, she nodded.

She sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. “The day of the wedding, my father called and offered to release my trust fund.” She searched his eyes as the tears began to drip from her own. “I said no. Not because of my pride, either, but . . . because I wanted to marry you. I couldn’t put a name to how I felt about you at the time, but . . .” She swiped at her eyes, a sob sneaking out. “I loved you—I know that now. I know it so deeply.”

A rush of unimaginable happiness blew in and knocked him off his feet.

Natalie knelt down in front of him, fingers rushing over him, as if to check for an injury. When she didn’t find one, she clasped his face in her hands. “August.”

Appearing dazed, she shook her head. “So, technically, we didn’t have to get married. We just . . . wanted to?”

She shot off the floor into his lap, where she belonged, planting kisses all over his face, which he was all too happy to sit back and receive, his mind still struggling to play catch-up. God, if you’re listening, please, please give me a century just like this. “I love you just as much, August Cates,” she said, finally, against his lips. “Despite the fights. Maybe even because of them. Because there is no one more worthy of battling for.”

His wife, the love of his life, kissed him with tears in her eyes.

And at last the world made sense.

Epilogue

Eight years later

Over the course of eight years of marriage, Natalie had seen August mad plenty of times. They’d always been, and continued to be, hot-tempered individuals and they ran a successful winery together. Of course they argued. The beauty was in the forgiveness—and they did forgiveness really well. Whether they fought over temperature management of the wine or planting strategy, they didn’t stay mad long. One of them usually caved after five minutes of silent treatment. And she meant “caved” in the literal sense, because the wine cave was usually where they ended up engaging in frenzied apologies out of earshot of their employees.

Yes, she’d seen August plenty mad. But never so mad as today, when he found out their daughter’s dance partner hadn’t shown up for a recital.

They were outside the school auditorium in a huge group. Natalie, August, Hallie, Julian, Corinne, and her new husband. August’s parents were there, too, having flown in from Kansas for the big night. Truth be told, it was hard to keep August’s parents out of Napa. They’d discovered a late-in-life passion for Cabernet and were now the proud owners of summer linens and straw hats, fitting in seamlessly with the locals. August’s mother referred to her stylish new attire as her “wine pants,” and Natalie adored the woman to no end. After all, she’d raised the love of Natalie’s life. A man who’d taken to parenting like he was born to be a girl dad.

Which was a very good thing, because they had three.

Parker, the oldest at seven. Parks for short.

Elle, the youngest, at two.

Both were currently home with a babysitter—the same home where August had carried Natalie over the threshold. They’d simply kept adding on rooms.

The cat was still punishing them.

Samantha, their middle girl, was a very serious five and a half—and tonight was her jazz recital. Her older sister, Parker, played sports. August dedicated a lot of time to coaching her teams. When Samantha had expressed an interest in dance, he was very adamant that he give the same level of attention to his middle daughter’s interests, so she wouldn’t feel slighted. He might have stopped shy of teaching the dance class, but he’d asked so many questions at rehearsals that the teacher eventually started ignoring his raised hand.

Her heart crawled up into her throat. “You know, she’s going to get through this. It’s going to be a good lesson. Life gives us lemons sometimes—”

Her mouth seemed to be distracting him from the problem at hand. “You look insane tonight, you know that, right?” he said in a lowered voice, his gaze traveling down the front of her burgundy silk wrap dress, his right hand lifting to squeeze her hip. “I was going to tell you when we arrived, but you sprung this whole missing partner on me. Damn, look at your legs. I could literally eat you alive.”

She took a deep inhale of his grapefruit scent and for a moment, there was nothing and no one but the two of them. This man whom she’d married under the guise of a marriage of convenience, but whom she’d been in love with all along. This man who’d become her best friend, business partner, biggest supporter, and co-parent. They were the best thing to ever happen to each other and neither one of them took it for granted.

Looking back, eight years had gone by at the speed of sound, and yet every moment was so vivid that she could replay them in slow motion. It was almost like living through those cherished memories twice. The evening they’d opened a bottle of their first vintage and it actually tasted decent? August had put Natalie on his back and run through the vineyard while she was still holding the open container. They were covered in wine by the time they collapsed and made love under the moon, the scent of grapes and earth filling her nose. Two years of hard work later, their wine had started pouring better than decent, and it was good timing, because she’d just found out she was pregnant with Samantha.

Funny, she’d never envisioned herself as a mother. Not until she met someone who reminded her she was fearless. Someone who imbued her with twice her strength, because they were a team. In everything. Made Natalie feel like such a vital part of a family that she started dreaming of expanding it. August’s response to her broaching the subject of having kids?

Princess, I thought you’d never ask.

They didn’t come out of their bedroom for a solid forty-eight hours.

Ten months later, August had passed out from sympathy pains in the delivery room and hit his head on a metal cart, resulting in nineteen stitches.

He still had the scar and claimed it made him even more attractive.

Natalie couldn’t exactly disagree. Who didn’t like a reminder that their husband had enough empathy and love in his heart that he could lose consciousness over it?

That was August. Empathy, love . . . and unconditional support. When she wanted to use her trust fund to buy shares in VineWatch, he’d supported her without question and watched proudly at her side as that investment quadrupled in the space of a year. She’d managed to convince Corinne and Julian to do the same, their faith in her healing a deep-down wound that had been lurking since childhood. The Vos family had definitely grown closer since then. Family dinners were messier, thanks to their girls. Julian and Hallie were also parents to a beautiful set of five-year-old twin boys. One of them was very serious and had a deep obsession with sharks. The other was wild to the bone and had once been found hanging from the dining room chandelier at Corinne’s.

One day in the not-too-distant future, these cousins were going to paint St. Helena red.

For now, they had a dance recital crisis.

He dipped his head on a smile that was almost bashful. “You doing that thing where you rewind the past and get all sentimental on me?”

She pressed her lips together tightly and nodded. “Maybe.”

Slowly, his smile gave way to a serious expression. “If I had one wish, it would be to slow down my time with you, Natalie. A hundred years won’t be enough.”

If they kept this up, she was either going to swoon or cry in front of their entire family. With a big inhale, she straightened the collar of his dress shirt. “Go talk to Samantha. She needs you.”

He studied her face for a long moment, as if memorizing every feature, before striding away. Natalie didn’t know what made her follow. Maybe she wanted to provide parental backup if the waterworks started again. Or maybe she just wanted to witness a moment between August and their middle daughter. But for whatever reason, she crept in his wake toward the stage entrance and peeked in through the crack of the door.

There was Samantha, the spitting image of Natalie at that age, sitting on August’s knee in her emerald green sequined dress and matching mini top hat. As Natalie had feared, her lower lip was trembling again. As strong as her impulse was to enter the room and comfort her baby, Natalie remained in place. August had this.

Samantha giggle-sniffed.

Samantha gasped. “You’re not a big doofus.”

Their daughter was quiet for a long moment, her tiny throat muscles starting to strain. “Dad?”

And that’s how August ended up dancing as Samantha’s partner in the recital, with a miniature green, sequined top hat pinned to his head, every move executed flawlessly. Yet another memory that Natalie would replay again and again for the rest of their lives.

Acknowledgments

When I sat down to write this enemies-to-lovers book, I asked myself, “What is the one thing I need to feel satisfied after a book about two people feuding? What is going to make me feel better after the harshly spoken words?” The answer came to me right away. I need irrefutable proof that the hero has loved the heroine all along. I hope you’ll agree that is exactly what we have here. August and Natalie are some of my favorite characters I’ve ever written—please enjoy them and their stubborn with a side of vulnerable ways.

Thank you so much to everyone who worked on this beloved book of mine, with a special thanks to my incredible editor, Nicole Fischer, who never fails to help a story sparkle. Thank you, as well, to Daniel H. who let me ask him questions about finance. I still can’t do math.

And as always, thank you to the best READERS on earth. Your tits look insane.

Love,

Tessa

About the Author

#1 New York Times bestselling author TESSA BAILEY can solve all problems except for her own, so she focuses those efforts on stubborn, fictional blue-collar men and loyal, lovable heroines. She lives on Long Island, avoiding the sun and social interactions, then wonders why no one has called. Dubbed the “Michelangelo of dirty talk” by Entertainment Weekly, Tessa writes with spice, spirit, swoon, and a guaranteed happily ever after. Catch her on TikTok @authortessabailey or check out tessabailey.com for a complete list of her books.

Discover great authors, exclusive offers, and more at hc.com.

Announcement

Don’t forget to check out Julian and Hallie’s story! Secretly Yours is available now.

And keep an eye out for Tessa’s new series . . .

Wreck the Halls

A fun, sexy Christmas romance coming Fall 2023