Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
LOLA
Song- Passenger, Boston Manor
The bell above the coffee shop door jingles as I step inside, scanning the room until I find Reese already seated at the corner.
Of course, he’s early. Of course, he’s wearing a suit.
Everyone else in here is in boots, caps, dusty jeans, hands wrapped around mugs before heading out to work, and there he is—perfectly pressed, expensive watch, polished shoes, like he’s about to walk into a courtroom instead of drink coffee in a small cafe.
He spots me and stands immediately, smiling. “Lola. You look beautiful.”
His eyes drag over me in a way that feels less like admiration and more like assessment. Like he’s checking something off a list.
“Thanks,” I say, forcing a polite smile.
His hand lands on the small of my back as I sit, guiding me into the chair. It lingers a second too long.
“I already ordered for you,” he says, sliding a latte across the table.
My stomach tightens. “Oh… thanks.”
I didn’t tell him what I drink. And he got it wrong.
He leans back, watching me with that easy confidence, like he’s already in control of how this conversation is going to go. “So,” he says lightly. “Did you like the flowers?”
I swallow. Here we go. “They were… generous. But Reese, I think maybe we need to—”
“But you liked them,” he cuts in smoothly.
I hesitate. “They were beautiful, but—”
He chuckles softly, waving his hand. “You’re just not used to someone treating you properly.”
My chest tightens. “That’s not what I—”
“You’ve dated idiots,” he continues, talking over me like I didn’t speak. “Guys who didn’t appreciate you. I’m not like that.”
I stare at him.
So I try again. “Reese, I actually wanted to talk about that. I think it’s best if we just stay fri—”
“Take things slow,” he says, nodding. “I agree.”
My stomach sinks. What the hell is happening here? “No. I mean, just friends.”
He smiles patiently, like I’ve misunderstood something simple. This feels like I’m negotiating my relationship status with him. Like, I don’t own that right.
I do. I’m never letting anyone trick me into that again.
That’s what I was running from in New York, the constant cycle of having to live my life to please everyone else.
Date Bradley because his parents invest here.
Or go on a date with Daniel because he has connections to a fashion company.
Take this brand deal because it will look good on your profile. It became too much.
My parents and their company drowned me out to the point I started to sink. I was no longer Lola. I was a dollar sign to them. Cute face. Sexy body. I could sell their brand. And none of it was what I wanted to do. I wanted to be a photographer.
“Lola, you’re new here. Small towns work differently. People talk. Reputation matters.”
A cold thread slides through my chest. “I’m not really worried about gossip,” I say.
“You should be.” His tone is still friendly. Still smooth. Which somehow makes it worse. “You don’t want people getting the wrong impression. Especially when they see you leaving bars late at night with certain types of men.”
Does he mean Hunter?
My pulse spikes. Did he see us?
And suddenly I feel like he’s watching me. Tracking my movements. Connecting dots.
“I can look after myself,” I say, but my voice sounds smaller than I intended.
His smile softens. It’s almost patronizing. “I know you think you can.”
And there it is. That subtle shift. The way my parents used to do it.
They never forced me into those brand deals outright.
Never said, You have to do this. They just reminded me how much they’d done for me.
How ungrateful I’d look refusing. How it would damage the family’s reputation.
How disappointing it would be if I said no.
And suddenly saying yes felt like the only option.
Reese leans forward slightly, voice quiet, intimate almost. “I helped make sure you got that lease approved. Made things easy for Violet’s permits. My family has a lot of pull in this town.”
My stomach knots.
He smiles again. “You don’t throw away good connections in a place like this.”
There’s no threat in his voice. But I feel it anyway.
I try one last time. “Reese, you’re really nice, but I just don’t think—”
“Nice?” he repeats, brows lifting. “Lola, we have chemistry. You’re just scared because this feels real.”
No. This feels like being maneuvered. Like every time I try to step away, he steps in front of the exit.
My hands tighten around my cup, suddenly aware of how small I feel sitting across from him. I’m being talked down to without it ever sounding that way. Like he’s already decided what’s best for me.
And I hate how familiar this feels.
He watches me quietly, waiting. “So,” he says lightly, as if the conversation is settled. “Dinner tonight?”
And the worst part? For a second, I almost say yes.
Because saying no suddenly feels like starting a fight I’m not sure I can win. Yes is the easy option. But I came here to change that script. I came to New Falls to give the real Lola a shot.
I stare down into my coffee, trying to work out how this conversation slipped out of my control.
Again.
Every time I try to end this cleanly, Reese redirects. Smooths things over. Makes it sound like I’m confused, impulsive, or just inexperienced. Like he knows better. As if my no simply means convince me harder.
My shoulders curl inward without me noticing, chest tightening in a way that feels horribly familiar. Just like home. I refuse to feel small again.
I lift my head and paste on a polite smile. “Actually,” I say, pushing my chair back slightly, “I'm going to take a rain check.”
Reese pauses, fingers halfway to his coffee cup. “I’ve got a bit of a hangover,” I add with a small laugh. “And I already have plans with Violet tonight.”
His eyes sharpen, just slightly. Most people wouldn’t notice.
But now I do.
The flicker of annoyance. The loss of control. Men like him hate that. “Cancel,” he says simply. “We’ll go to dinner instead.”
Something inside me snaps back into place. I stand before he can continue. “No,” I say, grabbing my bag. “I really need to go.”
His mouth opens, probably ready to steer the conversation again, but I don’t give him the chance. “Thanks for the coffee, Reese.” And I walk away.
My heart pounds as I push through the café doors, and as the air hits my lungs, relief washes over me.
Freedom.
The bell jingles behind me, and Violet jogs out seconds later, sunglasses on, coffee in hand. “Well?” she asks. “You looked like you were negotiating a hostage situation in there.”
I let out a shaky breath. “Because I was.”
We walk quickly toward my car, and the second we’re both inside, doors closed, I drop my head back against the seat.
“He’s a problem,” I mutter.
Violet frowns. “Really?”
“Yes.”
I start the engine, hands tightening around the steering wheel. “He doesn’t listen. Every time I tried to say we should just stay friends, he talked over me, twisted it, made it sound like I was confused.”
Violet’s expression darkens. “That’s not good. What a dick.”
“It felt like being back with my parents,” I admit quietly. “Like he was cornering me into agreeing with him.”
Silence fills the car for a second as she processes that. Then, softly, “So what do we do?”
I pull out of the parking lot, jaw tight. Trying to assess our options. I have a ton of money. But, there aren't many properties to lease in New Falls. Hence, we ended up in Reese’s apartment.
“We start looking for somewhere else to live.”
She turns toward me, surprised. “Seriously?”
“Yes. Because he’s our landlord. And if this gets messy, we’re stuck. This could just be another method for him to try to control me. I think he believes I’m actually his girlfriend.”
The realization settles heavy between us. I might be being dramatic. But it might also keep me safe. I’ve met men like him plenty of times before. No doesn’t exist in their vocabulary.
And here? I don’t have my parents' unsavory connections to save me this time.
“I think it’s best to play this safe,” I say quietly.
Violet nods slowly. “Okay. Then we move.”
I exhale, tension still buzzing under my skin, because suddenly New Falls doesn’t feel quite as safe and simple as it did yesterday. And somehow, the only thing in this town that doesn’t scare me…
Is the dangerous cowboy I slept with in the back of his truck.