Page 25 of Matched with the Playboy Next Door

But as we walk toward Mia, I can’t shake the feeling that this night wasn’t just about cleaning up or making small talk. It was something more.

And for once, I think Rileymight feel it, too.

After Mia’s cheerful interruption during clean-up, Riley and I make our way toward the parking lot, both of us carrying what’s left of the supplies. The park is quieter now, the crowd from earlier mostly gone, but a few groups linger near their cars, chatting under the glow of the streetlights.

Riley’s been quiet since Mia broke up our moment back on the stage. I can’t tell if she’s lost in thought or just too tired to talk, but either way, I leave her be. There’s a calmness between us now, even in the silence, like the walls she keeps putting up have finally dropped—if only just a little.

As we near the lot, a small group of townsfolk waves at us from the side. I recognize them from the event earlier—people I’ve seen around but haven’t talked to much. Riley slows her pace, her posture stiffening slightly as one of the women steps forward, a smile plastered across her face.

“Well, well,” the woman says, her tone sugary sweet but with an undercurrent that makes my jaw tighten. “If it isn’t Bardstown’s newest power couple.”

Riley stops in her tracks, her grip tightening on the strap of her bag. “We’re not a couple,” she says flatly.

“Oh, of course not,” the woman replies, her smile widening. “But you have to admit, you two put on quite a show tonight. It’s not every day Riley shows this much… enthusiasm in front of a crowd.”

One of the other women in the group snickers. “It’s true. She’s usually more of a behind-the-scenes type. I guess Ethan must’ve brought out her dramatic side.”

Riley’s knuckles turn white as she grips her bag. I glance at her, but she’s staring straight ahead, her jaw set.

“Funny,” another man in the group pipes up, his voice dripping with mock curiosity. “Riley, didn’t you say you weren’t much for the spotlight? But then Ethan shows up, and suddenly you’re hosting events and making speeches. Who knew all it took was the right… inspiration?”

The group laughs, the sound grating against my nerves.

“That’s enough,” Riley says, her voice low but steady.

“Oh, we’re just teasing,” the first woman says, waving a hand dismissively. “Don’t get so defensive. It’s just… surprising, that’s all. You’ve never exactly been the center of attention type. But I guess everyone changes when they get the right kind of company.”

That does it.

I step forward before I can think twice, planting myself between Riley and the group. “You know,” I say, my tone calm but firm, “it’s funny how people who do the least always have the most to say.”

The laughter stops immediately. The woman’s smile falters, and she blinks at me, clearly caught off guard.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asks, her tone less confident now.

“It means Riley worked her butt off tonight to make this event a success,” I reply, my voice steady. “While the rest of you were standing around clapping, she was the one making sure everything ran smoothly. Shedidn’t ask for the spotlight—you put her there because you needed her to clean up your mess.”

The group exchanges uneasy glances, but I’m not done.

“And for the record,” I add, glancing at each of them, “Riley doesn’t need anyone to ‘bring out’ her potential. She’s been holding this town together long before I got here. Maybe instead of making snide comments, you should try thanking her for everything she does.”

The silence that follows is deafening. The woman clears her throat, looking flustered. “Well, we didn’t mean anything by it. We were just?—”

“Just leaving,” I finish for her, raising an eyebrow.

Her mouth opens and closes a few times before she gives a tight nod. The group quickly disperses, their murmurs fading as they retreat toward their cars.

I turn back to Riley, who’s staring at me like she doesn’t quite know what to make of me. Her grip on her bag has loosened, and there’s something in her eyes—surprise, maybe, or something softer.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she says quietly, her gaze lingering on me. “But… thanks. They don’t usually mean anything by it, but it’s nice to know someone has my back.”

“I know,” I reply, shrugging. “But someone had to.”

She looks down for a moment, her expression thoughtful. “Thanks,” she says again, this time with a small but genuine smile. “I mean it.”

“Anytime,” I reply, giving her a small smile.

We fall into step again, the tension between us replaced by something warmer. As we reach her truck, she hesitates, her hand on the door handle.

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