Southern Secrets (Southern #7) - Natasha Madison Page 0,28

Amelia to take my place, but she’s serving drinks at the other end.

"What can I get you guys?" I ask, and the blonde leans onto the bar.

"You're a cowboy, right?" she asks, and I tilt my head, reminding myself that if I’m rude, then they won't come back, and if they don’t come back, Amelia makes less money.

"Why do you think I’m a cowboy?" I ask.

"Well, for one, you're hot," the brunette says. "And your arms are nice and tanned."

"If you live around here or work around here, you’re a cowboy," one of the other girls says. "I’ll take a whiskey sour." I look at the other girls, who nod. "Six whiskey sours." I make their drinks in front of them and collect the money. I learned a long time ago never to leave someone with a tab running unless you know where they live.

"So tell us, Cowboy, do you have a name?" the blonde asks me again.

"Cowboy is good," I say and try to move away from her when she puts her hand on mine. I look down at her hand on mine and then hear someone clear their throat beside me.

"Sorry, I need the whiskey," Amelia says, and I move out of the way and out of reach from the blonde.

She grabs the bottle from the bar and then looks at me. "We got this covered," she says. "You can go and sit with your friends." She motions with her chin, and I just stare at her when she turns and walks away from me.

Chapter 12

Amelia

"We got this covered," I say, irritated with myself for caring that those women were throwing themselves at him. "You can go and sit with your friends." I motion with my chin toward the girls who look like they are dry humping my bar.

I turn to walk away from him, and I’m stopped when he puts his hand on my arm. I look down, seeing his fingers wrapped around my upper arm. I look over at him and the lump in my throat suddenly appears.

I haven’t seen him all week long, and even if I didn’t want to admit it, it bothers me not knowing where he was all day. Of course, I refused to ask anyone about it. Then every night, my head would automatically turn toward the front when I would hear the door open, and I would kick myself.

Then tonight when I’m finally not thinking about him, he shows up looking so much better than he did in my head. His blue jeans hang on his hips with a brown belt, the black shirt tucked into the front with two buttons open at the collar. His arms are nice and bronzed, his eyes a light brown as he smiled at me. I couldn’t help the smile that came out of me. "Hey, hey, hey." I hear Chelsea say and turn to look at her and Willow standing there. "Look at this place."

She smiles widely and throws her hands up in the air. I feel Asher's hand slide off my upper arm. The heat from his touch still lingers.

"Hey, Asher," Chelsea says. "Can I get something to drink?" I look over at him, and he just looks at me, then turns and smiles at Chelsea.

"Give me two beers and two shots of Jack," she says and then holds up her hand. "Three shots."

"I’m not doing a shot," I say, going to get the two beers while Asher gets the shots.

"Four, then," Willow says. "Asher can have one also."

"Thanks, ladies, but I don’t drink on the job," he says with a smile. His charm just rolls off him, and I want to put my finger down my throat and fake gag. He pours the three shots and hands me one. "Cheers."

"To Amelia," Chelsea says, and I just glance at Asher as he gets someone a drink.

"To success," Willow says, holding up her shot.

I hold up my drink and clink it with the other two, taking the shot and wincing as the brown liquid burns all the way down to my stomach. "Yuck," I say and grab the two empty shot glasses and put them in the gray square container.

"We need new shot glasses." I look over at Reed, who is walking by with a tray of dirty glasses. On Saturday, Reed and his best friend Christopher bus tables, making sure we get clean glasses. They pick up and wipe down the tables.

"What do we have here?" Mayson says, coming to stand next