Mine to Keep (Southern Wedding #8) Read Online Natasha Madison

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary, Forbidden Tags Authors: Series: Southern Wedding Series by Natasha Madison
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Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 84071 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
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“What do you say we go for a nice walk in the woods?” I ask her as I lead her to the path on the side where it’s quiet. We walk for a couple of minutes slowly. She’s still unsure of where to go or of me. “What a pair we make.” I chuckle at myself, trying to pretend I’m okay, but to be honest, it’s fucking exhausting. It’s been two days since I showed up close to midnight, shocking everyone, especially my parents. I didn’t even know I was going to drive home. All I knew was I needed to get away from the whole thing. I walked into work with a heavy heart, especially after waiting twenty minutes for him. I knew he was either avoiding me or pissed at me or maybe both. I spotted him walking in ten minutes later with his coffee, going straight to the conference room.

I waited for him to come to see me, and I knew right away he was off. I should have waited, but I couldn’t wait anymore. I wanted to talk to him. I hoped to have a conversation with him, but the words that came out of his mouth were like stabs right to the heart. It showed me he would never, ever be over my age. There was no going back for us. I couldn’t stay there and work for him day in and day out while in love with him, so I left.

I called Loren and told her I was leaving and to please pack up my stuff. I knew he would try to come and talk to me to get me to go back and work with him. I also knew I couldn’t see him. We were over. There was nothing he could say to change my mind. So, I just drove toward home, turned my phone off, and took off. I thought once I got home it would be fine, except I missed him so much it hurt. Like a constant pain in my chest, a throbbing of sorts. Like a fist squeezing one of those stress balls. That’s how it feels every minute of every single day. Even at night when I close my eyes, it’s all Caine. This morning I woke with my pillowcase wet with my tears. “Don’t fall in love, Dixie,” I tell the horse as we pass the creek. “It’s not worth it.”

We spent a couple of hours going along paths I used to take when I was a teenager, pointing out little things to her. I told her about the rock where my cousin Sofia got engaged and where my aunt Kallie fell in love with my uncle Jacob. Only when we are ten minutes out do I push her a bit more, and she handles it like a pro. “Look at you go,” I praise her as I get off the horse near the barn. “Dixie Pixie.” I rub her neck. “I think I’ll keep you.”

“You’re still here?” Charlie says as I walk past him while he washes one of the other horses he rescued.

“I could ask you the same thing.” I shake my head when we hear a truck pull up and look over.

“Great,” Charlie says, “he looks like he’s looking for you.” He chuckles as our grandfather comes to us. He’s wearing old jeans and a shirt covered in dust, along with his cowboy boots that have seen better days. “Hey, Pops,” Charlie says.

“Hey, buddy,” he greets him and then looks at me. “I brought you something.” He pulls out a phone from his back pocket.

“What is that?” I ask him.

“It’s your new phone,” he states. “Your grandmother said she hasn’t been able to get ahold of you. I’m assuming the other phone isn’t working.”

“Pops,” I say to him, pointing at my nose, “your nose is growing by the minute.” Charlie laughs at him.

“I spoke to Grandma Olivia this morning. After she came to bring me breakfast.”

“Nailed, Pops,” Charlie teases, and he glares at him.

“You better hope your father doesn’t watch the cameras inside the barn.” He points at him, and I gasp.

“She just came to—” He smirks, and I hold up my hand. “It’s nothing like that.”

“What’s going on here?” My father comes toward us.

“Charlie is having sex in the barn.” I try to keep the focus away from me.

“Charlie,” my father grumbles between clenched teeth.

“Would everyone relax?” He holds up his hands. “She came to return my sweater.” I snort out laughing because he’s lying through his teeth.

“You haven’t worn a sweater since you were eight and deemed them a waste of time,” my father says, and I’m about to say something to him when we hear the crunching of rocks. All of our heads turn toward the side when we see a brown truck stop. I put my hands up over my eyes to see who it is. I spot Nash right away, coming out of the driver’s side door, and then look over when I hear another door close, seeing the man who I ran away from. He opens the back door and holds out his arms to Meadow, who jumps down from his arms and looks around, spotting me.



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