Southern Secrets (Southern #7) Read Online Natasha Madison

Categories Genre: Angst, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Southern Series by Natasha Madison
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Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 74713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
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"Who is?" she asks me and then follows my eyesight. "Oh, Asher. I thought you liked him."

"Why would you say that?" I ask, shocked. "I will admit that I found him hot when he got here." My mouth never stops. "In a mysterious, who is this new guy kind of way." I pause, and she just looks at me. "But …" I point at him. "Now he’s integrated himself into the family, and he is fucking everywhere." I look at her. "Say something!” I shriek out.

"I was waiting for you to finish ranting before I said something." She looks at me. "If you don’t like him like that, why did you even invite him to live with you?”

"He isn’t living with me.” I gasp out, throwing up my hands. "He had no place to go. What was I supposed to do?"

"Umm, literally anything but that." She laughs, and I glare.

"I hate you," I say, turning and storming off away from her.

"Come back here," she says, jogging to catch up with me. "I’ve never seen you like that." I stop and turn to look at her. "You have never been hung up on any man before."

"What in all of this makes you think I’m hung up on him?” I ask, confused.

"One, you are all jumpy when he is around.” She holds up her finger. "Two, you can’t stop looking at him when you think no one is looking at you." I scoff out and roll my eyes.

"I do not," I say, and I stop talking when Mayson gets close.

"What are you two talking about?" he asks, and I send her a don’t fucking say anything look.

"We were wondering if the food was ready?" Chelsea says, putting her arms around his waist.

"They said five minutes," he says.

"Excuse me, I have to wash my hands," I say, walking away from them.

"You can run," Chelsea says, and I turn around, looking at her and walking backward. "But you can’t hide." She smiles at me, and when I stick my two fingers up, she puts her head back and laughs.

I stay as far away from him as I can all afternoon. Instead of eating with my cousins because Asher is there, I eat sitting on the grass with Gabriel.

After a couple of hours of playing with the kids, I get up and walk over to say goodbye to my parents and my grandparents. I duck out before anyone sees me, and when I walk into the house, I head straight for the shower.

Dressing in a pair of yoga pants and a T-shirt, I walk back to the kitchen when the front door opens and then slams closed.

"You didn’t even tell me you were leaving," Asher says, standing there, his hands on his hips. "I was looking for you all over the place."

"Why didn’t you just call my phone?" I ask. His eyes are a deep brown, the same color they turn when he’s angry with something.

"Why the hell would I call your phone when we were both at the same place?" he says, huffing out. "I was ready to leave an hour ago, but I was waiting to see if you needed a lift."

"Well, clearly, I made it home okay," I say, opening the water bottle and putting it to my lips. He doesn’t say a word to me. All he does is stare. My neck is getting hot. "I heard that you stopped a couple of fights last night," I say, putting one hand on the island.

"Who told you that?" he asks now.

"Are you denying it?" I step away from the counter to walk to the dining room. He stands there not too far away from me. "Someone told me that two girls were fighting over you." My hands start to shake. "Have you decided yet?" I finally cave and ask him the question that I’ve wanted to ask him ever since I found out he was thinking of leaving.

"Decided what exactly, Amelia?" He says my name, and I hear the whisper of him calling me baby, right before we almost kissed.

"If you are staying or going?" I ask, everything that I told myself all day is out the window. The not knowing has been killing me this whole time.

He walks over to me, standing right in front of me. "This isn’t a good idea," he says, his voice going soft toward the end of that sentence. "I know this isn’t a good idea. You know that this isn’t a good idea." He points at me and then back to himself. "No matter how much I tell myself to get my shit and leave." He steps one step closer to me. "There is always something that stops me from leaving." I swallow now as his scent surrounds me, my stomach flip-flopping. He steps even closer as our chests are touching. "And that someone, Amelia …" His finger trails my cheek. "Is you."


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