“When was the last time you had a man take care of you, sweet girl?” he asks, and now he’s so close, his bare chest brushing the thick canvas of my apron, but I can still feel it. I can feel every brush of him like there’s nothing between us. “What?” “A man, baby. When was the last time you had one?” It’s been a long, long time. And a part of me, maybe it’s a part of New Lola I haven’t discovered yet, can’t help but think I would give anything right now to have this man break that streak.
