Page 32 of Matched with the Playboy Next Door

“Relax, son,” he says, waving me off. “I’m just teasing. But I’ll say, you sure know how to keep things interesting around here.”

The woman with him, Mrs. Thompson, gives Riley a pointed look. “Small towns are tricky, you know. Triangles tend to cause more drama than they’re worth.”

Riley stiffens, her fingers gripping the edge of the counter. “There’s no triangle,” she says flatly.

“Of course not,” Mrs. Thompson replies, though her tone is far from convincing.

Georgia, bless her oblivious heart, laughs lightly. “Well, if there is, I’m the least dramatic part of it. Trust me.”

The tension in the air thickens, and I can feel Riley’s patience wearing thin. She busies herself with a stack of papers, clearly trying to block out the conversation.

“All right,” I say quickly, forcing a laugh. “I think we’ve caused enough of a stir for one day.”

Riley doesn’t look up as Georgia and I head toward the door, and the pit in my stomach grows heavier with every step.

“See you around,” Georgia says brightly, offering Riley a wave.

Riley glances up just long enough to nod, her polite mask firmly in place.

Once we’re outside, Georgia nudges me. “Is it just me, or did that feel… tense?”

I let out a long breath, rubbing the back of my neck. “It’s complicated.”

“You said that already. Complicatedhow?” she asks, her tone genuinely curious. “I need actual details in case I have to swoop in to save your small-town romance.”

“There’s no small-town romance here,” I say as Georgia chuckles.

“That issonot the vibe I’m getting from you two.”

The cab pulls into my driveway just as Georgia finishes adjusting the strap on her designer carry-on. She glances over at me, her polished smile intact, the one she’s perfected for cameras and runways.

“Well, this has been fun,” she says, her tone light but sincere. “A little different from our usual hangouts, but nice.”

I smirk, shoving my hands in my pockets. “Different is a good word for it.”

Georgia tilts her head, studying me. “You’re happy here, aren’t you?”

The question catches me off guard, but I nod slowly. “Yeah. I think I am.”

She smiles, softer this time. “Good. You deserve that, Ethan. Just… don’t let this town change you too much, all right?”

“Pretty sure Bardstown’s already gotten to me,” I admit, glancing down the street. “But maybe that’s not a bad thing.”

She steps forward, pulling me into a quick hug. “Take care of yourself, okay? And don’t be a stranger.”

“Same to you,” I reply, stepping back as the cab driver loads her bag into the trunk.

Georgia slides into the backseat, her window rolling down as the car starts to pull away. “Good luck, Ethan,” she calls, her voice warm.

I wave as the cab disappears down the street, the sound of its tires fading into the distance. The driveway feels strangely empty without her, but I don’t have time to dwell on it. When I turn around, I see Riley standing at the edge of her aunt’s yard, holding a pair of gardening gloves.

Her expression is unreadable, her lips pressed into a thin line as she watches me.

“Riley,” I call, stepping toward her.

She doesn’t move, her gaze shifting to the spot where the cab had been moments before. “She leaving for good?” she asks, her tone neutral.

“Yeah,” I say, stopping a few feet away. “She’s headed back to New York. She was only here as a quick stop between flights to say hi.”

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