Southern Heat (Southern #6) Read Online Natasha Madison

Categories Genre: Angst, Contemporary, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Southern Series by Natasha Madison
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Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 72616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
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“Can someone please tell me what the fuck just happened?” I look at my father and at Mayson.

“She just confirmed to you that she is too good for you,” Mayson says. “That woman lived through a hell that we will never know.” He laughs. “And trust me, I know because I knew the type of person my father was. But her having that gift, he must have used her like a toy.” I look at my father, who is smirking as he looks at the screens.

“You know that I work with some of the best hackers there are,” he says. “And you know that I’m the best.” He comes over to look at the script on his paper. “But what she did, we’ve been trying to do for four weeks.”

“So what, she’s this computer genius,” I say. “She’s the reason that Chelsea got taken,” I point out to Mayson.

“And the reason you found her almost dead is because she said no more,” Mayson points out. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go and make sure she’s okay.” He runs out of the room, and I just stand here. I walk over to a chair and sit down. My head is spinning with all this information.

“What the fuck are you doing?” My father looks at me. “Why are you not going after her?”

I rub my hands on my face. “She doesn’t want me,” I say. “I’m not good enough for her.”

I’m waiting for him to tell me otherwise. I’m waiting for him to give me advice, but instead, he looks at me and laughs. “Don’t be an idiot.” He shakes his head. “If Willow didn’t want to be here, she wouldn’t be here. All she needed was to take your computer, and she would have had a new ID and a brand-new credit card. She needed five minutes, and she would have everything she needed, but she didn’t.” He comes to me and slaps my shoulder. “If you let her leave, you will regret it for the rest of your life.”

“What if this town is not enough for her.” I look at him. “I mean, clearly”—I point at the computer screen—“she’s brilliant.”

“You don’t love her,” my father says and turns to walk away, and I jump up. “Because if you love her, the thought of her leaving would cut you off at the knees. So maybe it’s better you let her go.” He walks to his coffee. “Besides, a woman like that deserves someone who would die for her.”

“The thought of not being with her crushes my chest so much I don’t think I can breathe,” I say, and he looks at me.

“Son,” he says. “You’re wasting time. Go and get your woman. Jesus.” He shakes his head, and I run out of the barn toward my truck.

I make it home in record time, running up the stairs, calling her name when I walk into the house. “Willow,” I call her name and rush to her bedroom. I stop in the middle of the room when I see the clothes on the bed. I walk toward it and stop breathing when I see the paychecks she’s collected since she’s been here with a note on them.

This should pay for the clothes.

“Motherfucker!” I roar out, turning around and looking for that fucking black bag. I take my phone out and call Mayson.

“She’s at the barn,” he says when he answers. “I promised her ten minutes, and then I would drive her wherever she wanted to go,” he hisses out. “Don’t make me break my promise to her.”

I rush out of the house and take the golf cart, my foot pressed all the way down. I pull up to the barn and see Mayson standing outside his truck, waiting for her. He looks at me and motions with his chin toward the barn, and I walk in, knowing exactly where she is going to be.

I walk slowly down the cement walkway and hear her soft voice. “I’m sorry I have to go, Hope.” She sniffles, and my heart breaks. “I will never forget you, sweet girl.” I look into the stall and see her with her arms around Hope’s neck. “You were one of the things I’ve loved most about this place,” she says softly as I watch her. “You are going to help so many people, my beautiful Hope. You are gentle and kind, and anyone would be happy to have you.”

She must sense I’m staring at her because Willow looks up. I can see the anguish on her face. “I was just leaving,” she says and bends her head to walk out of the stall. She stops in front of me. “You don’t have to forgive me,” she says, standing there in front of me. “Because I will never forgive myself. But you have to know that I’m sorry for everything.” She bends her head and takes two steps.



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