Southern Comfort Read online Natasha Madison (Southern #2)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Contemporary, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Southern Series by Natasha Madison
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Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 72074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
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“Thank you,” I tell Miguel when he hands me the reins. I look behind to see that the bag is already secured. “I’m going to get on, and then I’m going to reach down and pull you up. Miguel will help you get on.” I get on the horse, then I look over at her. She looks so happy; the smile on her face is everything. I put my hand out, and she grabs it, then Miguel grabs her waist and helps her on. She sits behind me, and her arms go around my waist. “Are you good?”

She leans against my back and nods her head. “I’m better than good,” she says. I kick the horse, and he starts to gallop. We go from my family land all the way over to the other side of the newly purchased land. The wind blows in her hair, and when we start to go around the back, I lead her to the creek. The same creek that Kallie always runs to, and the same creek where we found that guy lurking around.

I slow the horse to a walk and look over my shoulder. “You hungry?” I ask. She nods, but she doesn’t move away from me. The sound of the creek starts to get a touch louder as we get closer. Once we pull up next to the rock and the open area, I get off the horse and then hold my hand out for her. She grabs me and gets down, then she shocks me when she rubs the horse’s neck. “Hold the reins,” I say. She holds them in her hand while I get the blanket out.

“What are you doing?” she asks when I walk over to the open area under the tree and unfold the blanket, putting it down.

“We’re having a picnic.” Her eyes go big, her smile lights up, and I swear I see a tear in her eye. “I figured since we were out.” I walk over and grab the cooler that my mother packed and then look over at her. “You can leave the reins. He won’t go anywhere.” She drops them and then follows me over to the blanket.

“I can’t believe you did all this,” she says, kicking off her shoes and getting on the blanket.

“I wish I could take all the credit.” I laugh, sitting down in front of her. “But Mom made the food.”

The smile never leaves her face as she ties her hair up on her head. I have the sudden urge to lean down and kiss her face, forgetting all about the food. “I’m suddenly starving,” she says.

I open the cooler, taking out the sandwiches Mom made along with a container of fruit and another of veggies, and at the bottom is the bottle of wine. “See, she knows you,” I say, and she just laughs. She grabs a piece of sandwich and sits down. “How’s your head?”

“Better,” she says, chewing. “Remind me never to drink tequila again.”

I laugh, grabbing my own piece. “I’ll remind you only if you tell me more about you being a model.” I watch as the smile fades from her face, and she just shrugs.

“Nothing much to say. I used to model, and now I don’t,” she says. When she looks down at her hands, I’m almost ready to kick myself for asking her. “It’s not a secret or anything. I started when I was young, then finally, a couple of years ago, I just walked away from it.” She looks at me. “Almost like you up and leaving the rodeo circuit. That was how I felt about modeling. I was doing it because my mother made me, and then I finally stood up and said no more.”

“It must have been hard to just walk away,” I say, knowing full well how it felt losing that little piece of me. “A piece of me was gone. It was just weird.”

“But you loved doing the rodeo, right?” she asks, and I nod. “I hated fucking modeling. I hated everything about it. Getting on jets and living out of your suitcase and the cattiness about it. One girl I know ate only an apple for the whole week.” She throws her hands in the air. “Seven days with one apple. Luckily, I had a great metabolism, but that didn’t keep my mother from trying to pinch fat on my body. Well, when she did that, it was always a bad month.”

“Do you still talk to your mother?” I ask, and she shakes her head.

“No.” She grabs a grape and tosses it into her mouth. “When I finished my last runway, I expected her to be there. Expected her to be somewhat proud of the fact that I had the career I did, but instead, she tried to punish me by staying away. In the end, she punished herself because I’ve never been happier.” She shrugs and eats more grapes. “I mean, I guess you can say my mother is the reason that I settled with Dominic.”


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