Southern Secrets by Natasha Madison

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 to Chelsea. He pushes a guy who was standing too close to her away. I shake my head and roll my lips as the guy looks at him, and it takes one look from Mayson for the guy to move away. "Why are you drinking over here?"

"Well, because," Chelsea says, turning around and looking up at him. She’s been in love with him since she was eighteen years old. Ethan invited him home. "We were doing a shot with Amelia."

"Can I get you guys something?" Asher says, coming to stand next to me.

"I’ll have a beer," Mayson says, bringing Chelsea closer to him.

"I’ll have one also," Quinn says. "And I’m not paying for it either."

"He’s paying double," I tell Asher, who turns and just shakes his head.

"You work here?" Mayson looks at Asher.

"I thought for sure after the week you had, you’d be sitting in a tub of ice water," Quinn says, and I’m dying to ask him where he was all week.

"Hard work never killed anyone," Asher says and hands Quinn and Mayson two beers. Ethan comes over with Emily. "Besides, Ethan helped one day."

I want to ask them what everyone is talking about, but a song starts playing, and Chelsea throws her hands to the sky.

"This is our song." She claps her hands. "You"—she points at me—"get your skanky ass on that dance floor."

I laugh, shaking my head. "One"—I stick my finger up—"I’m not the one with a skanky ass." I turn to Mayson. "No offense."

"I don’t even know what to say to that,” Mayson says as we hear the sounds of the violin, and then I hear my name being called by the band I hired for the night.

"Where is Amelia?" He calls my name. Everyone looks over at me, and I put my head down.

"Go on," Asher says, standing beside me with his hand on my lower back. "I’ve got this covered, and if anything, Ethan can help me." I look over at Ethan, who shakes his head.

"No," he says. "I’m leaving."

Now Emily laughs. "Your two sisters are going on the dance floor." She claps her hands together. "There is no way in hell you are going to walk out of this bar." He glares at her, and she leans up and kisses the underside of his jaw. "And your wife." She turns. "Come on, Willow, let’s dance."

Willow looks shocked when Emily grabs her hand and pulls her to the dance floor. I walk with them. "Okay," the singer says. "Where is she?"

"I’m here," I say, getting on the stage and looking out. "How is everyone doing tonight?" I ask the crowd, and they all cheer. "I have to say a huge thank-you to Gretchen for coming down and playing some tunes for us." I clap my hands and look at her as she nods at me.

"Now someone told me that this song right here is your song," Gretchen says, starting to play the tune again. "Who wants to see if Amelia still has her moves?" The crowd cheers, and I see my brother and my cousin Quinn both hang their heads as they push off the bar and make their way to the packed dance floor.

Asher just stands behind the bar as the dance floor makes a circle for us as I get down and stand in the middle of them . I see some of the girls standing beside the dance floor. The men stand beside them with their beer in their hands.

Quinn, Mayson, and Ethan stand there with their legs apart and their arms over their chest as they watch us. I clap my hands, looking over at Chelsea. "Your man is angry looking."

"He’s all bark and no bite," she says, laughing as the music starts.

Willow stands at the end, talking to Emily, who just shrugs her shoulder. "Just follow those two."

When Gretchen starts singing, we do two steps to the front of the dance floor, and I see that Asher is there watching. His eyes are on me as I kick up one leg and dance backward to get to the middle. We clap our hands and start dancing to the left, then spinning to go back to the right. The crowd goes wild. We redo the steps over again, and this time, more people join us on the dance floor, even some of the men.

When it finally finishes, we get a round of applause, and I walk back to the bar. Asher is there, and he hands me a water bottle. "Thank you."

He doesn’t say anything to me. He just nods his head, and he looks a little bit angry. "Cowboy," the blonde calls him over, and he claps his hands and walks over to them. He laughs and shakes his head as he puts one arm on the bar.

My family is back at the front of the bar when I walk to them. "What are we talking about?" Ethan says to the group, leaning on the bar.

"How Asher spent the whole week repairing your grandparents’ fence around their property," Mayson says, and my head snaps to the side to look at Asher. As he pours six more shots for the women, my heart is beating so hard in my chest it’s a wonder I can hear anything at this point.

"He worked his ass off fourteen, sometimes fifteen hours a day," Ethan says, shaking his head.

"He had no choice. If he didn’t show up early enough, Billy was out there with his tractor," Mayson says, shaking his head. "He even called me a pussy when I showed up at six a.m."

"That is where he went this whole week?" I mumble under my breath.

Asher comes back over and looks at us. "What’s wrong?" he asks, looking at me.

"You built a fence with my grandfather?" I ask, and he just shrugs.

"He needed help," Asher says. "I had time to spare."

"Why are you lying?" Quinn says, shaking his head.

"I’m not lying," he says, pushing away from the bar and walking over to the other side of the bar.

"He worked one day from three a.m., took a break for breakfast, and then worked until nine at night," Quinn says. "And still did his rounds to all the farms."

"Well, he did get a fucking great tan," Mayson says, leaning on the bar.

I don’t say anything because all I can do is look at him as he serves a couple of women and smiles at them politely. They both check him out when he walks away from them and then look at each other and share a giggle. He comes back over to us, and he has no idea what he does to these women.

"Can we get some more shots over here?" the girls ask Asher, and I know I have to get away for a bit and clear my head.

"I’m going to make my rounds and make sure everything is okay," I tell Chelsea, and she nods. I walk out of the bar, and I catch Asher watching me as I head over to the sports bar. I open the door and see that people are starting to leave as the game just finished.

"Is everything okay?" Reed says from beside me with a gray bin in his hand. He stands six foot two, wearing blue jeans and a black shirt. He’s filled out in the last couple of years.

"How is the ice situation?" I ask.

"Half full," he says. "I’m about to take out the trash."

"I got it," I say. "Finish cleaning the tables in the sports room so she can close up as soon as the rest of the people leave."

"Don’t pick up anything heavy," Reed tells me, and I laugh at him.

"I could probably bench-press you," I say, and he laughs.

"Yeah, you and Chelsea together," he says, and I just shake my head. I walk around the bar, picking up some trash on my way to the back.

I tie one of the big black bags and lift it out of the bin. I walk over to the back door, pushing it open with my ass as I walk out into the cool air. The two spotlights in the back are out, and I look up, shaking my head. "Fuck," I say as I walk over to the dumpster all the way at the end of the property. My head is down while I walk, and when I look up, all I feel is a burning sensation to my head, and everything goes black.