Chapter Twenty-Five

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

By Tessa Bailey

Secretly Yours

Unfortunately Yours

Bellinger Sisters

It Happened One Summer

Hook, Line, and Sinker

Hot & Hammered

Fix Her Up

Love Her or Lose Her

Tools of Engagement

The Academy

Disorderly Conduct

Indecent Exposure

Disturbing His Peace

Broke and Beautiful

Chase Me

Need Me

Make Me

Romancing the Clarksons

Too Hot to Handle

Too Wild to Tame

Too Hard to Forget

Too Beautiful to Break

Made in Jersey

Crashed Out

Rough Rhythm

Thrown Down

Worked Up

Wound Tight

Crossing the Line

Risking It All

Up in Smoke

Boiling Point

Raw Redemption

Line of Duty

Protecting What’s His

Protecting What’s Theirs (novella)

His Risk to Take

Officer Off Limits

Asking for Trouble

Staking His Claim

Serve

Owned by Fate

Exposed by Fate

Driven by Fate

Beach Kingdom

Mouth to Mouth

Heat Stroke

Sink or Swim

Standalone Books

Unfixable

Baiting the Maid of Honor

Off Base

Captivated

Getaway Girl

Runaway Girl

Copyright

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

UNFORTUNATELY YOURS. Copyright © 2023 by Tessa Bailey. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

FIRST EDITION

Cat with bow tie illustration © lexlinx / Shutterstock

Cover illustration by Monika Roe

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data has been applied for.

Digital Edition JUNE 2023 ISBN: 978-0-06-323904-3

Print ISBN: 978-0-06-323903-6

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