Page 37 of Matched with the Playboy Next Door

Her brows draw together in thought. “What are you thinking?”

I grab a pen and paper, my mind spinning with possibilities. “She mentioned once that she wanted to turn part of it into a community workshop—a place where people could come and learn how to use tools, fix things, maybe even build something of their own. But she said she couldn’t afford to make it happen.”

Mia’s grin grows. “Now you’re talking.”

“I could rally the town,” I say, the idea forming in my head. “Get people to pitch in—supplies, time, whatever they can give. We could build the workshop for her, make it exactly how she’s always imagined.”

Mia doesn’t even bother hiding her smirk as I finish explaining my plan. “So let me get this straight,” she says, leaning back in her chair. “You want to turn Riley’s store into a full-on community workshop, and you think she won’t notice us renovating the place she’s at literally every single day?”

I sigh, dragging a hand through my hair. “That’s why I need your help—and Dotty’s. Riley can’t know. If she finds out, she’ll try to take over, and this is supposed to be a surprise.”

Mia laughs, shaking her head. “You realize you’re asking me to distract the most stubborn woman in Bardstown, right?”

“I’m asking you to help me fix what I broke,” I say, my voice softer now. “Please, Mia. I need this to work.”

She tilts her head, her smirk fading as she studies me. “All right,” she says after a beat. “I’ll call Dotty. Between the two of us, we’ll figure something out.”

The next morning, I find myself standing in Dotty’s kitchen, explaining the whole thing again while she stirs a pot of oatmeal. She listens quietly, her expression thoughtful as I lay out my plan.

When I finish, she sets the spoon down and turns to face me, her lips twitching into a small smile. “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”

I nod, but my chest tightens. “I just… I don’t know if it’ll be enough. Riley’s been hurt before, and I’m terrified that I’m going to screw this up and push her further away. I messed up, Dotty. Riley’s been through enough, and the last thing I want is to hurt her more. I need her to see that I’m here for the long haul—that she can trust me.”

Dotty nods slowly, crossing her arms. “It’s a good plan, Ethan. But keeping Riley away from that store is going to be a challenge.”

“I know,” I admit. “That’s why I need you and Mia. If anyone can keep her distracted, it’s you two.”

Dotty smiles, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Oh, I’m sure we can come up with something.”

Two days later, I watch Mia and Dotty put their plan into action a few feet away from the store while I wait for their signal to get started. I hear Dotty tell Riley they need a girls’ day—shopping, lunch, and a stop at the garden center. Riley resists at first, of course.

“I’ve got too much to do at the store,” she says, frowning as Dotty waves off her protest.

“Honey, the store will still be there tomorrow,” Dotty says firmly.

“You’ve been working yourself ragged, and you deserve a break. Besides, when’s the last time you spent a day with your favorite aunt?”

After a bit more coaxing—and Dotty’s promise to keep the day short—Riley finally agrees.

As soon as they’re out of sight, I step into the store with Frank and the first group of volunteers.

The back room of the hardware store is cluttered, but the bones are there—the perfect space for the workshop Riley once mentioned. We start by clearing out the old shelves and equipment, hauling everything out to the parking lot so we can make room for the new setup.

Frank supervises, his booming voice keeping everyone on track. Mrs. Harriet drops off more cookies than we know what to do with, and the butcher brings in extra lumber, just like he promised.

The energy is contagious, and for the first time in days, I feel like I’m actually doing something right.

As I help install the first set of workbenches, I think back to what Riley said the night she told me about her parents.

“They taught me everything I know about this place,” she’d said, her voice full of quiet pride. “I just wish I could share that with other people. It’s not just a store—it’s a way to help the community.”

That’s what this is about. Not just fixing what I broke, but giving her the chance to make her dream a reality.

By sunset, we’ve made real progress. The walls are freshly painted, the new workbenches are installed, and Frank is working on the shelving units. The place already looks completely different, and the volunteers are buzzing with excitement.

“This is going to blow her away,” Frank says, wiping his hands on a rag.

I nod, my chest tight with anticipation. “I hope so.”

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