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 thisbrand 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?—”