Page 11 of Matched with the Playboy Next Door

He raises a brow. “Sure. I’ll grab some lemonade.”

I glance back to see him stroll off casually, already chatting up the vendor. Typical.

When I reach Aunt Dotty and Mia, I don’t mince words. “I know you two are up to something, and I’m not falling for it. Not again.”

They both look up at me as if they’re the picture of innocence.

“Whatever do you mean, sugar?” Aunt Dotty asks, clearly feigning ignorance.

“Yes, Riley,” Mia adds, grinning. “We’re just here enjoying the community event. No schemes whatsoever.”

I narrow my eyes. “Oh, really? Pairing me up with Ethan for the scavenger hunt wasn’t planned?”

“Pairing you up?” Mia shrugs, biting into a cookie. “That was Dotty’s idea.”

“And who put the idea in her head?” I counter.

Aunt Dotty pats my hand with a knowing smile. “Now, Riley, you’re reading too much into this. It’s just a little fun.”

“Fun for who?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder. Ethan’s still at the lemonade stand, smiling like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

“For everyone,” Mia says smoothly. “But if it’s bothering you that much, maybe you’re the one making it a big deal.”

I glare at her, feeling my cheeks heat. “I’m not making it a big deal!”

“Of course not,” Mia says, smirking. “Now, go play nice.”

Aunt Dotty beams. “Yes, sugar. You’ll be fine. Go on before Ethan thinks you’ve run off.”

I shoot them one last glare and stomp off toward Ethan.

“Everything okay?” he asks, holding out a cup of lemonade.

“Not even close,” I mutter, snatching it from his hand. Even though I’ve seen a different side to him today, I’m not exactly sure what to do with the realization—or the mixed feelings it gives me.

CHAPTER 5

ETHAN

Istare at the old and mangled hedge trimmers in my hands, the blades stuck at an awkward angle as if they’ve just given up on life. Honestly, I don’t blame them. This whole “DIY homeowner” thing is turning out to be way harder than it looks on TV.

This is Riley’s fault.

Well, I didn’t figure it out. At all. The instructions might as well have been written in hieroglyphics, and the YouTube tutorial? Let’s just say it was less ‘how-to’ and more ‘what not to do.’ I thought I was doing okay until the trimmers started making that horrible grinding noise, and then just… died.

My frustration isn’t just about the trimmers. It’s everything about this place—slower, quieter, and way harder tonavigate than I thought. Maybe I was naïve to think moving here would magically fix everything.

With a sigh, I drop the tools onto my kitchen counter, next to my laptop, where an email from Sam sits open.

“When you’re ready, let’s discuss the next steps? Also, we need to catch up. How is Bardstown?”

Sam, even though he's currently on his honeymoon right now, and I have been bouncing ideas back and forth for weeks about starting a new business—something small, simple, and nothing like the high-stakes, luxury real estate empire back in New York. He’s throwing around ideas about some development project, and while I’m interested, I haven’t exactly been pulling my weight.

Instead of working on the pitch deck for Sam, I’m over here destroying perfectly good hedge trimmers.Real productive, Ethan.

I grab the useless tool and head for the door, muttering to myself. There’s no avoiding it now. I have to go back to Riley’s hardware store and swallow my pride.

The bell above the door jingles as I walk in, the smell of sawdust and metal hitting me like a wave ofyou don’t belong here. I spot Riley at the counter, scribbling something in a notebook. She doesn’t look up right away, so I take a moment to watch her.

---