Southern Storm Read online Natasha Madison (Southern #3)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, New Adult, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Southern Series by Natasha Madison
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Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82349 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
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“You have that much faith in me?” I ask, and she smiles shyly and nods her head. I don’t know if it’s the dust or the fact that it’s been a really shitty couple of days, but all I want to do is kiss her. My head moves closer to her. “Thank you,” I whisper, and she just looks at me. “For being on my side,” I say right before my lips land on hers. I don’t know if she’s shocked or not, but her mouth opens just enough for me to slip my tongue into her mouth. I swear this has to be the sweetest fucking kiss of my life. Her tongue touches mine, going around and around, and just when I want to take it deeper, I step away from her. I open my eyes just in time to see her eyes flutter open. She puts her fingers on her lips as if to make sure this really happened.

“You kissed me?” I don’t know if she’s asking me or she’s telling me.

“Yeah,” I say, ready to go in for another kiss but not wanting to push her. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” I tell her, and she just blinks, not sure how to handle what I just told her.

“I should get you home,” I say, pretending I didn’t just kiss her in the middle of her bar. “It’s getting late, and I have emails to go through.” She remains standing in the middle of the room, trying to mentally take everything in. “I have the bag of food. You get the lights.” Turning, I clean up the food bags while she turns off the lights, and then we walk to the door. I watch her lock the door and then walk her to her truck.

“Thank you, Beau,” she says softly as the light breeze sweeps through her hair. She gets up on her tippy toes and kisses my cheek. “Thanks for being you.” Turning, she gets in the truck, and I watch her drive away.

Getting into my truck, I start to drive home but end up making my way to Savannah’s house. I park in the driveway and ring her doorbell. She answers after a couple of minutes, and I can see that she just got out of the shower. “What are you doing here?” she asks, stepping aside so I can enter.

“I didn’t want you to be all alone tonight,” I answer her honestly, “so I thought I’d come keep you company.”

The smile forms on her face so fast. “I am not admitting this more than once,” she says, “but I was kind of scared to be home all alone.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me that?” I ask when she turns and walks into the house.

“Because then you would worry, and I don’t want you to worry about me.” She walks into the kitchen to the fridge. “You have enough to deal with.” She takes out a water bottle.

“I’m going to go take a shower,” I say. “Want to watch a movie before bed?”

“No.” She shakes her head. “But I’ll sit with you and probably fall asleep.”

I laugh. “You do that anyway.” Turning, I walk down the hallway to the bathroom I usually shower in. After turning on the water, I open the cabinet and grab my shorts that I keep here.

When I’m finished and walk back out there, I find her already asleep on the couch. I don’t bother turning on the television. I just cover her up and walk back to the spare room and fall into bed. The next morning, the alarm wakes me, and I find her still sleeping. I get dressed and leave her a note before going home and getting ready for the day.

I’m in the middle of drafting up an email when she texts me.

Savannah: You left, and I didn’t even have to cook you breakfast. Thanks for yesterday. You always know what I need.

I smile and answer her back right away.

Me: You owe me breakfast, and I’ll collect it soon. I don’t know if I can get over to you today, already have a commitment.

Savannah: Have fun on your date.

I’m about to answer her when the knock on the door of my office has me looking up. “I have all the documents that you asked for,” Bonnie says. “Also, the bridge club ladies are requesting you for their annual luncheon.” I look at her. “They do it every year. Your father has always gone, even if it’s only for a couple of hours.”

“With all these teas, lunches, and dinners, it’s a wonder he got anything done,” I mumble, and she just smiles at me.

I go to lunch where I spend two hours doing nothing productive. Then I’m sucked into a meeting with a bridge club member’s husband about some tradition that was done for over five hundred years, and when I finally walk into my house, my ass is dragging. I open my fridge to grab a water bottle, and I’m about to call Savannah and see where she is when my phone rings.


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