Page 13 of Matched with the Playboy Next Door

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I reply, gesturing to the yard. “But as you can see, I’ve got it under control.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Sure you do.”

I fold my arms over my chest, mirroring her stance. “You came all the way over here just to check on my hedges? What happened to minding your own business?”

She rolls her eyes. “Ethan, we live right next door. I am minding my business.”

Touché.

“Well?” I ask, motioning toward the hedges. “What do you think?”

She tilts her head, clearly trying to decide how honest she wants to be. “Well, they’re standing upright, so that’s something. Not bad, city boy.”

I pretend to be offended. “That’s the best you’ve got?”

She smirks. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

We end up on the porch, both of us leaning against the railing. I offer her a bottle of water, and to my surprise, she takes it without a single sarcastic remark.

“So, what’s the real reason you’re here?” I ask after a moment.

Riley shrugs, twisting the bottle cap in her hands. “I wanted to see if you’d actually figure it out or if you’d just destroy half the yard.”

“Low expectations, huh?” I say, shaking my head.

“Based on how you handled that mower last week?” she teases, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah.”

I laugh, but her words remind me of the pressure I left behind in New York. Back there, I was always trying to prove myself—not just to clients or coworkers but also to my parents. I gave everything to the family business, working long hours under my dad’s watchful eye and trying to live up to expectations that were impossible to meet.

But no matter how much I did, it was never enough.

“Why’d you come to Bardstown, Ethan?” Riley’s question pulls me out of my thoughts. Her tone is softer now, more curious than sarcastic.

I glance at her, then back at the yard, my jaw tightening for a moment. “Because I needed to get out. My family runs a huge real estate firm in New York—big, flashy, high-pressure. I worked there for years, climbing the ladder, managing projects, and doing everything my dad wanted. But it got to a point where I felt like I was suffocating. So I left. Bardstown seemed like a good place to start fresh.”

She nods, her expression unreadable. “And how’s that going for you?”

“Mixed results,” I admit with a grin. “Turns out, the quiet life is harder than it looks.”

She smiles faintly, taking a sip of her water. “Yeah, well, you’re not exactly the type to blend into a small town.”

“And what type am I?” I ask, raisingan eyebrow.

She shrugs, but there’s a flicker of humor in her eyes. “The kind that doesn’t know how to use hedge trimmers until someone shows you.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “Fair enough. But I’m learning.”

She leans back against the railing, her gaze drifting to the yard. “I’ll give you that. You’re doing better than most of the city guys who come through here.”

“Wow,” I say, feigning shock. “Is that a compliment?”

“Don’t push it,” she replies, smirking.

I glance at her, and for the first time, I notice how the sunlight catches the loose strands of her hair and how the corners of her lips twitch when she’s holding back a smile. Riley’s sharp and sarcastic, sure, but there’s something else there—something I didn’t expect.

Back in New York, every conversation felt like a negotiation. Here, people like Riley say what they mean—no filters, no pretenses. It’s jarring, but also kind of refreshing.

“What about you?” I ask, breaking the silence. “Have you always lived here?”

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