Page 30 of Matched with the Playboy Next Door

Before she can answer, Georgia steps into view behind me, a smile on her face. Riley’s eyes flick from me to Georgia, and I see the shift instantly. Her shoulders stiffen, and the easy, confident air she usually carries evaporates. I want to say something to put her at ease, to explain that this isn’t what it looks like, but Georgia beats me to it.

“Who’s this?” she asks, her tone light and curious.

The smile Riley tries to muster doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Just a neighbor,” she says, her voice clipped. “I was dropping something off.”

“Ah, I’m Georgia. Good friend of Ethan’s.”

Georgia extends her hand, all charm and friendliness, but I can already tell Riley isn’t buying it. She hesitates for a fraction of a second before shaking Georgia’s hand, her polite smile strained. Georgia doesn’t notice—she’s always been oblivious to tension like this—but I do. And it’s eating me alive.”

“Riley,” she says, her tone cool enough to make ice.

“Riley runs the hardware store,” I say, trying to ease the tension I can feel building. “She’s been helping me figure out all the tools and stuff since I got here.”

“Sounds like you’ve been busy,” Georgia says, glancing at me with a knowing smile.

Riley steps back, her hand dropping to her side. “I should get going,” she says, her voice a little too steady. “Looks like you’re busy, too.”

Her tone is neutral, but the look in her eyes isn’t. She’s already decided what she thinks about this, about Georgia. I open my mouth to stop her, to explain before she walks away, but the words don’t come fast enough. By the time I step onto the porch, she’s already halfway to her truck.

I stand there, the box still in my hands, watching as she pulls out of the driveway without looking back.

When I close the door and turn around, Georgia is watching me with a raised eyebrow. “So, that’s Riley. She’s exactly as you described her over the phone,” she says, her tone full of something I can’t quite place.

“Yeah and she probably thinks we are old lovers” I reply, running a hand through my hair.

“Oh please! She seems nice,” Georgia adds, leaning against the counter. “A little… tense, though. Did I miss something?”

I let out a sigh, setting the box on the counter. “It’s complicated.”

“Complicated?” she repeats, her eyebrow arching higher. “Ethan, come on. Spill.”

I shake my head, trying to gather my thoughts. “Riley’s been… different. She’s not like anyone I’ve met before. And I think…”

“You think what?” Georgia prompts, her tone softer now.

“I think I might’ve messed things up just now,” I admit, the words heavier than I expected.

Georgia gives me a look of mock sympathy. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’m sure she’ll come around. Eventually.”

I don’t respond, my thoughts already spiraling back to the look on Riley’s face when she saw Georgia. I can’t shake the feeling that this just got much more complicated. Knowing Riley, she’ll read more meaning into this. Georgia and I have been friends since we were kids. We went out on a couple of dates before deciding to remain good friends.

Riley could easily get the wrong idea and build her walls back up again. I need to find her and explain myself before all the progress we’ve made goes up in flames.

The sun is high by the time I convince Georgia to let me show her around Bardstown. She’s hesitant at first, claiming she doesn’t want to cramp my new “small-town lifestyle,” but I know better. Georgia’s curious, always has been, and despite her polished, city-girl vibe, she’s not one to back down from an adventure.

We wander through Main Street, the heart of Bardstown, where a few locals stop to chat. Georgia’s charm works as seamlessly here as it does in the city, though I can already tell she’s holding back some of her more polished edges.

“So, this is it?” she says, gesturing to the quaint shops and bustling sidewalks. “The great Bardstown?”

I grin. “Hey, don’t knock it. Bardstown’s got personality.”

“Personality is one word for it,” she teases, but her smile softens. “It’s cute. I get why you like it here.”

We stop outside the diner, where Mrs. Harriet is chatting with a few friends. She spots us and waves enthusiastically.

“Ethan!” she calls, her eyes darting to Georgia. “And who’s this lovely young lady?”

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