Mine to Cherish (Southern Wedding #3) Read Online Natasha Madison

Categories Genre: Romance Tags Authors: Series: Southern Wedding Series by Natasha Madison
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Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 69371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
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Walking back out of the bathroom, I contemplate putting on a robe and joining him downstairs, but I hear him walking up the stairs. He stops at the doorway, staring at me with a cup of coffee in each hand. His blue eyes light up when he looks at me from head to toe. “Like what you see?”

“No.” He smirks, walking into the room and coming straight for me. “I don’t think like is the proper word for it.” His lips fall on mine, and my whole stomach gets butterflies.

“Thank you,” I say when I grab a cup from his hand and walk back to the bed, placing it on the nightstand. He follows me and is about to get back in bed when I tilt my head. “Are you coming into bed with clothes on? What happened to your rule that one must always be naked in the bed?”

“And the living room,” he adds, and I just laugh as he slides his boxers off and then slips into the bed next to me. He sits up with his head to the headboard. “How was last night?” he asks about the wedding that took place. He got home before me, which was a first, and was waiting for me as soon as I got home.

“It was eventful.” I fill him in on the drama. “But it’s over.” I lean over and kiss his shoulder. “What are your plans for the day?” It’s my first day off in two weeks, and I hope he has nothing planned so we can spend the day together.

“I’m going to hit up the food and drink festival,” he replies, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Oh.” I sit up now. “I want to go. Can I come with?” I ask, and he just smiles.

“I was hoping you would say that.” The smile fills his face, and thirty minutes later, we are both getting out of bed and getting dressed. I slip on blue jeans with a light blue T-shirt, and when I walk out of the closet, he’s sitting on the bed that we made together.

“You look nice,” he compliments, getting up and coming to kiss me.

“Right back at you,” I say, looking at him with his black jeans and a white shirt, I lean in and kiss his neck. There is just something about him that I always want to kiss him. It’s so strange, and I’m not sure if it’s normal since I’ve never been this touchy-feely before.

We get to the festival, and he parks as I look over to where the row of white tents are set up. “Have you been to this festival before?” I ask as we make our way toward the entrance.

“Not this one,” he says. “But I went to one in New York.” My stomach gets tight when he says that. There are questions I want to ask him about New York, especially about the girl he was with, but I never feel like it’s my place. I mean, who am I to say anything? I was engaged, for fuck’s sake. “Have you?” He looks over at me, and I just shake my head.

When we get to the entrance, a person is handing out the map layout. “How do you usually tackle this?” he asks, and I just laugh.

“I usually just put one foot in front of the other and walk.” He shakes his head as we walk past the first tent, grabbing some samples. “So if you had to choose one meal for the rest of your life, what would it be?” I ask as I grab a wine sample that someone just handed to me.

“Probably steak and potatoes,” he says. “You can’t go wrong with that.” I nod, and then he takes a sip from the water bottle he just bought. “What about you?”

“Pizza. Hands down, it would be pizza.”

“Really?” He smiles at me. “I was going to say that, but I thought you would laugh at me.”

“Why would I laugh at you?” So many people are bustling around us, but the two of us are in our own world. We walk almost at a snail’s pace, taking our time enjoying being out in the sun.

“Well, I’m a chef, and all I can come up with is pizza,” he says as our fingers graze each other’s, and my belly flips again. It’s really becoming annoying that it happens every single time he touches me. I make a mental note to google how long it lasts when I get home.

“But pizza is a mix of everything,” I observe as our fingers touch again. This time, his pinky comes out and holds mine for a couple of seconds before letting it go. “It’s got carbs, cheese, veggies, and meat. I mean, you can’t go wrong.”

“Exactly,” he agrees and then looks at me. “Can I hold your hand?” he asks, and all I can do is smile at him. Another thing I’ve only done with him is I’m constantly smiling. Or not constantly, but the majority of the time he’s around, I have a smile on my face.


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