Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
LOLA
The second I walk into the bar, I know I’m not just being watched. I’m being studied.
This place is loud, packed wall to wall with cowboys in worn jeans and boots, women dancing in denim shorts, a live band hammering out something country and rowdy enough to make the whole floor shake.
And I totally love it. Not having anyone recognize me. Not being forced into boring conversations. This place seems wild, which is exactly what I wanted.
Violet grips my wrist and laughs. “See? Fun.”
I barely hear her because I see him, and my stomach erupts into butterflies.
He’s sitting at a table near the back with three other men, beer bottles in front of them, all of them big, broad, and really intimidating.
And then there’s him.
The man from outside the cafe. The one everyone went quiet around. The one people moved out of the way for without being told.
And now he’s here.
Dark blue eyes fixed on me.
And suddenly, the room feels too warm.
He’s wearing a tight black T-shirt stretched across a chest built like he lifts cattle for fun. Tattoos crawl down both arms, disappearing beneath the sleeves, dark ink against tanned skin. His shoulders look capable of carrying the entire damn world without breaking.
His jaw is rough with stubble, his expression unreadable.
He’s just watching… me.
The men at his table are all handsome in their own ways. But him? He doesn’t just look good. He is gorgeous. The kind of man you see once and never forget. And somehow, his eyes are already on me, which causes the heat to crawl up my neck.
“Earth to Lola.” Violet nudges me. “You good?”
I swallow. “Yeah. Just… wow.”
She follows my gaze. “Oh.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “Oh wow. He is insanely hot.”
“Right?”
“That entire table is illegal levels of sexy cowboy,” she breathes out.
But my focus keeps dragging back to him.
Those dark eyes.
Watching. Or maybe I’m imagining it.
We make our way to the bar, squeezing between bodies, and before we even order, two guys slide into the space beside us.
Tourist cowboys. You can tell by the boots that are too clean and the accents that don’t belong here. I’m starting to learn the difference the longer I stay here. It’s fascinating to me.
“Drinks on us,” one says with a grin.
Violet beams. “Well, thank you.”
I smile politely as beers slide toward us. They make conversation. The boring small talk kind that I hate. Ask where we’re from, what we’re doing here. Violet chats easily, laughing, while I nod along.
I can’t focus. Because every few seconds, my gaze drifts back across the bar.
Back to him. Still there. Still watching.
I take a sip of beer, trying to steady the sudden flutter in my stomach.
Violet leans closer. “Cowboy table is still staring.”
I risk another glance. And yep. Still there. Leaning back in his chair, beer in hand, eyes fixed on me like nothing else in the bar exists. Which is exactly how I feel about him.
“You should go talk to him,” Violet whispers.
I nearly choke on my drink. “Absolutely not.”
“Why not?”
“Because men like that don’t get approached.” I shrug, pretending my stomach isn’t flipping inside out. “They approach. I don’t want to look desperate.”
“And you’re just gonna wait?” She looks at me like I’m dumb as a rock.
I lift my chin. “If he wants to talk to me, he can come over.”
Truth is, walking up to that table would absolutely destroy what little composure I have left.
He makes me nervous. But not scared. I’m intrigued.
My heart stammers as he reaches across the table, picks up a black cowboy hat, and settles it onto his head.
Like he knows exactly what that does to a woman.
He says something to the men at his table. One of them grins and glances at me knowingly.
And then he stands.
The air shifts, making it hard to breathe. I grip my beer bottle tighter, watching his every step. People move without being told, conversations faltering as he walks through the crowd toward the bar. Toward me.
My pulse spikes so hard I can hear it in my ears.
“Lola,” Violet hisses. “He’s coming here.”
I know.
He steps up beside us, his broad shoulder nearly brushing mine as he turns to the bar, completely ignoring the two guys talking to us.
“Evenin’, boys,” he says calmly.
The guys nod, suddenly very aware of themselves. One of them mumbles something about getting another drink, and they disappear into the crowd.
Then he tips the brim of his hat slightly toward Violet and me. “Evenin’, ladies.”
Up close, he’s overwhelming. And when his blue eyes land on mine, something low in my stomach tightens.
He turns back to the bartender. “Another round for me and my brothers’ table.”
The bartender moves immediately.
Then the stranger’s attention slides back to me in a second. “And what’re you drinkin’?” His voice drops.
My mouth goes dry. “Beer would be good. Please.”
I sound like an idiot. He probably thinks I’m a virgin who’s never spoken to a man before, with the way I just mumbled out a simple sentence.
His lips twitch, almost a smile. “Beer it is.”
He orders without looking away from me, pays, then leans his hip against the bar. Close enough that heat radiates through my arm. Close enough that my brain short-circuits.
Up close, I notice everything.
The faint scar along his jaw. The dark stubble shadowing his cheeks. The way his hands look like they could lift me without effort.
God.
I could watch a man like this work all day and never get bored. Sun on his back, muscles flexing as he throws hay bales or fixes fences, sweat running down tattooed arms.
And the things those hands could do to me—
Jesus.
My breath stutters.
“You ain’t from around here,” he says, his voice low and so teasing.
My accent. Of course. I fold my arms, pretending confidence. “What gave it away?”
His gaze drags lazily over me. “New York.”
I blink. “That obvious?”
He smirks slightly. “Got friends out there. You sound like ‘em.”
His drawl curls around every word. My entire body seems to lean toward it without permission.
“So,” he continues, eyes locked on mine, “you new to town? Or just passin’ through?”
For some reason, I don’t want him to know I’m here to stay. Out of fear, perhaps. The way I react to him, I’ve never experienced this before. I’ve never had feelings for a guy I don’t even know the name of.
“I’m visiting,” I lie lightly. “My friend’s uncle lives here.”
His gaze sharpens slightly. Like he knows I’m not telling the whole truth.
“Town like this,” he murmurs, “visitors don’t usually last long.”
I lift a brow. “Why’s that?”
His jaw flexes, and something dark flickers in his eyes. “Cowboys tend to cause trouble.”
My lips curve before I can stop them. “And you? Do you cause trouble?”
A beat passes. Then he leans in slightly, voice rough against my ear. He even smells divine. “I’m the one who fixes it.”
A shiver slides down my spine. My gut tells me that he is the most dangerous man in this bar.
But standing this close?
I don’t want to run. I’m pulled toward him instead.
Like touching fire just to see what happens. I’ve never really had to make my own decisions in life. My parents did it for me. But here? Here I can be the woman I always wanted to be.
The confident girl who goes after what she wants. The one who can have fun without worrying about who is watching her.
The girl who gets the man. Or in this case, the cowboy who has her panties soaking.
He straightens slowly, eyes dropping briefly to the diamond necklace at my throat before meeting mine again.
And something changes in his expression. It softens. Just a fraction. Almost like he’s having the same internal debate I am.
“I’m Hunter,” he says, holding out his hand.
And I freeze. Staring at his rough, tattooed hand like it might bite me. Maybe I want him to bite me. Or my ass.
He smirks as my eyes meet his. “Do you have a name, city girl?” he drawls out.
The second I place my hand in his, sparks shoot down my arm. I don’t pull away, I lean into the feeling.
Like I’m alive.
“Guess,” I tease.
He runs his tattooed hand over his dark stubble, his eyebrow arching. “I don’t need to guess. I’ll get it out of you eventually.”
I blink at him. His confidence is hot. Everything about him is. I almost combust as he leans in towards me. I don’t think I’m even breathing properly.
“My advice, though, stay away from cowboys,” he says quietly.
He reaches for the bucket of beers, then pauses, leaning in once more, his stubble brushing my ear.
“Fireflies look real pretty at night,” he murmurs. “But they still get themselves burned.”
My breath catches.
He pulls back, dark blue eyes holding mine one last second.
“Careful, firefly.”
“Have a good night, Hunter,” I tell him, his name sounding sexy on my tongue.
He sucks in a breath. Only a little one. But enough to tell me that I get to him, too. And then he walks away, carrying drinks back to his brothers like he didn’t just tilt my entire world sideways.
I stare after him, heart racing.
Reese made me feel pressured. Every interaction with him puts me on edge. But with Hunter? The sparks are flying in a way I’ve never experienced before.
The kind you see in films or read in books. That moment. I never thought it was real. But after that? It is.
“Holy fuck, Lola. Now that is a man. A man who could do so many filthy things to you,” Violet whispers behind me.
I shake my head, trying to get back to reality. A man like him won’t be going after what he calls a city girl. He warned me to stay away. But I don’t much like being told what to do anymore.
That Lola is dead.