Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 107710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
What the hell was he supposed to say?
That he’d seen her across the room at that stupid Wine Down Napa event and felt like he’d had an arrow shot into his chest by a flying baby? That his palms had sweat because of a woman for the first time ever that night? He’d already been in that Viennese countryside holding a picnic basket in one hand and an acoustic guitar in the other. God, she was so beautiful and interesting and fucking hilarious. Where had she been all his life?
Oh, but then somehow it all went to shit. He’d let his pride get in the way of . . . what? What would have happened if he’d just taken her verbal disapproval of his wine on the chin and moved forward? What if he hadn’t equated it to disapproval of his best friend’s aspirations? Was there any use wondering about any of this shit now?
No.
He’d run out of capital. The winery was an unmitigated disaster. He was the laughingstock of St. Helena, and he’d dragged his best friend’s name with him into the mud.
Time to go, man.
“Oh, Natalie.” He slapped a hand over his chest. “Obviously I wanted to twirl you around on a mountaintop in Vienna while our children frolicked and harmonized in curtain clothes. Didn’t you know?”
She blinked a few times and her expression flattened as she stepped back into the grass. August had to fist his hands to prevent himself from reaching for her.
“Well,” she said, her voice sounding a little rusty. Dammit. “Have a lovely evening at home with your Sound of Music references and cozy nest of wine rats. I hope you’re paying them a living wage.”
“It won’t be my home much longer.” He threw a hand toward the event that was still in full swing behind them, the judges taking pictures with the audience members, more wine being served on silver trays. “This contest was it for me. I’m moving on.”
She laughed as if he was joking, sobering slightly when he just stared back. “Wow. You really can’t take a little constructive criticism, can you?”
August scoffed. “Is that what it was? Constructive?”
“I thought SEALs were supposed to be tough. You’re letting winemaking take you down?”
“I don’t have a bottomless bank account like some people in this town. In case it wasn’t clear, I’m talking about you.”
For some reason, that made her laugh. A beat of silence passed, then she said, “You’ve got me all figured out, August. Congratulations.” She turned on the toe of her high heel and breezed away, moving that leather skirt side to side in the world’s cruelest parting shot. “My sincere condolences to the town where you end up next,” she called back over her shoulder. “Especially to the women.”
“You wouldn’t be saying that if you dropped the disgusted act and came home with me.” For some reason, every step she took in the opposite direction made his stomach lurch with more and more severity. “It’s not too late, Natalie.”
She stopped walking and he held his breath, not fully aware until this very moment how badly he actually wanted her. Maybe even needed. The continued flow of his blood seemed to hinge on her response. “You’re right, it’s not too late,” she said, turning, chewing her lip, eyes vulnerable in a manner that stuck a swallow in his throat. I’ll never be mean to her again. “It’s way too late,” she concluded with a pinkie wave, her expression going from defenseless to venomous. “Go to hell, August Cates.”
His stomach bottomed out, leaving him almost too winded for a reply. “Hell, huh? Your old stomping grounds, right?”
“Yup!” She didn’t even bother turning around. “That’s where I met your mom. She said she’d rather live in hell than drink your wine.”
A crank turned in his rib cage as she moved out of earshot. Too far to hear him over the event music that had started up. Definitely too far to touch, so why were his fingers itching for her skin? His chances with Natalie were subzero now. Just like his chance at succeeding as a vintner. With a final long look at the one who got away, August cursed, climbed into his truck, and tore out of the parking lot, ignoring the strong sense of leaving something undone.
Chapter Two
Natalie searched blindly in the dark for the button on her sound machine, cranking the symphony of rain and bullfrogs to the maximum level. Julian and Hallie tried to be quiet. They really did. But bedsprings creak at four o’clock in the morning for only one reason—and creak they did. Natalie covered her face with a pillow for good measure and rolled back into the sheets, employing what she called the State Capitals Method. On the occasions her brother and his new girlfriend decided to make love down the hallway in the guest house they all shared, Natalie avoided that troubling imagery by naming state capitals.