Page 10 of Matched with the Playboy Next Door

We scour the park, picking through bushes and scouring under benches for the bizarre items on the list. Despite my initial annoyance, I have to admit he’s making the whole thing bearable. I’m almost impressed by how unbothered he is. No snide remarks, no frustration. Just easy charm and determination, like he’s actually enjoying this. He doesn’t complain, even when I deliberately make him do all the awkward tasks—like digging through a pile of leavesfor a pinecone.

“Find anything yet?” I ask, leaning casually against a tree.

“Not yet,” he says, crouched on the ground, his hands sifting through the leaves. “But I’m determined to prove to you that I’m more than just a ‘city boy.’”

I smirk, crossing my arms. “Good luck with that.”

He stands up, brushing his hands off his jeans, and triumphantly holds up the pinecone. “Step one accomplished.”

I laugh despite myself and snatch it from him. “Fine. I’ll give you that one. But don’t get cocky.”

“Too late,” he says with a wink.

We make our way toward the playground, where a small group of kids is running around laughing, their parents watching from nearby. I glance at the list, spotting the next item: a ribbon tied to a swing set. Easy enough.

But just as we approach, an older woman trips on the edge of the pavement and stumbles forward, nearly falling. Before I can react, Ethan is already there.

“Whoa, gotcha,” he says, catching her by the arm and steadying her. “You okay?”

The woman nods, her face flushed. “I’m fine, just clumsy as always. Thank you, young man.”

“No problem,” Ethan says, smiling warmly. “You sure you’re all right?”

She nods again, patting his arm. “I am, thanks to you.”

I stand a few steps away, watching the exchange with my arms crossed, trying not to let my surprise show. This isthe same guy I’ve been rolling my eyes at for days—the one I pegged as a spoiled, self-absorbed, rich kid. But the way he just reacted so quickly and genuinely threw me off.

I watch as Ethan steadies the woman, his voice calm and reassuring. It’s such a small thing, but the sincerity in his expression catches me off guard. And then it hits me: I might’ve been wrong about him. Maybe Aunt Dotty is right and there’s more to him than I’ve let myself see. I might have judged him a little too harshly, and that was wrong.

“Earth to Riley,” Ethan says, waving a hand in front of my face. “We’ve got a scavenger hunt to win, remember?”

I snap out of it, narrowing my eyes at him. “You realize we lost time because of that, right? Even if it was for a good cause.”

His grin doesn’t waver. “Whatever you say.”

“Let’s just find that ribbon before we lose even more time.”

By the time we reach the swing set, another team has already snagged the ribbon. I shoot Ethan a look, but he just shrugs, completely unbothered.

“We’ll get the next one,” he says, his tone easy and confident.

For the rest of the hunt, I catch myself watching him more closely. The way he jokes with the kids who dart past us, the way he compliments an older couple on their dog, even the way he doesn’t get frustrated when I bark orders at him. As the clock ticks by, I find myself relaxing more around him, even enjoying myself a little—not that I’dadmit it to him.

“You know, if you hadn’t stopped to play hero back there, we might actually be winning,” I tease as we head back toward the starting line.

He laughs, running a hand through his hair. “You’re not really mad about that, are you?”

I shake my head. “No. Just saying you’re lucky I’m letting you off the hook this time. Don’t make it a habit.”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that,” he says with a wink. “I only swoop in when it’s necessary.”

“Good to know,” I reply, smirking.

As we hand in our list—half-complete, thanks to Ethan’s detour—I can’t help but feel like something shifted today. Ethan isn’t just the guy I thought he was, but that doesn’t mean I’m ready to let my guard down yet. He’s still Ethan Wilson, after all—charming, infuriating, and entirely too sure of himself.

Near the main area of the park, I spot Aunt Dotty and Mia near the baked goods table, heads bent together in what looks suspiciously like scheming. They’re both grinning like they’ve won the lottery, and as much as I want to be mad, I can’t help but feel a twinge of gratitude. They mean well, even if their methods are wildly obnoxious.

“I’ll be right back,” I tell Ethan, already striding toward them.

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