Page 38 of Matched with the Playboy Next Door

“It’s a great idea, Ethan. Riley does so much for us. This is also our way of letting her know we appreciate her,” Frank adds.

His words warm my heart. In that moment, I know there’s no way I’m leaving Bardstown. Leaving Riley. This place, these people—they’ve rooted themselves in me in a way I never expected.

I nod again, this time with more certainty, my chest still tight but now with something closer to hope. “Yeah,” I say quietly. “It is a great idea.”

The store smells like fresh paint and sawdust, and the hum of activity fills the air as we sort out the final touches. Frank is installing the last shelf, Harriet is dusting off the new workbenches, and I’m double-checking the layout against the sketches we put together.

It’s all coming together, and for the first time in days, I let myself breathe a little easier. Riley’s going to love this.

Or at least, that’s what I keep telling myself.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, pulling me from my thoughts. I glance at the screen and see Mia’s name. I answer quickly, my stomach tightening.

“What’s up?” I ask, already bracing for something.

“Ethan, we’ve got a problem,” Mia says, her voice urgent.

“What kind of problem?”

“The Riley kind,” she replies. “Dotty and I couldn’t stall her anymore. She’s on her way to the store now.”

My heart drops. “Now? How far is she?”

“Ten minutes, max,” Mia says. “We tried everything, but you know Riley—when she decides to do something, there’s no stopping her.”

I mutter a curse under my breath, glancing around the store. “Okay. We’ll figure it out.”

“You’d better,” Mia says. “Good luck!”

The call ends, and I turn to Frank, who’s already watching me with raised eyebrows. “What’s wrong?”

“Riley’s on her way,” I say, my voice tight.

The room goes still as everyone freezes. Frank lets out a low whistle. “Well, that’s not good.”

“We need to clean this up,” I say, running a hand through my hair. “Now. We can’t let her see this yet.”

Mrs. Harriet looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Ethan, we’ve got paint cans, tools, and half a dozen people in here. How exactly do you plan on hiding all this in ten minutes?”

I stare at her, my mind racing. “We… we’ll figure it out. Just start moving everything to the back room. Quickly.”

The volunteers spring into action, gathering supplies and clearing the floor as fast as they can. I grab a stack of boxes and haul them toward the back, my pulse pounding in my ears.

But no matter how fast we move, it’snot fast enough.

The bell above the front door jingles, and I freeze.

“Hello?” Riley’s voice calls out, sharp and questioning.

I turn slowly, my heart hammering as she steps inside. She stops dead in her tracks, her eyes widening as she takes in the half-finished renovations, the scattered tools, and the group of volunteers staring at her like deer caught in headlights.

“What is this?” she asks, her voice low and dangerous.

No one answers. Frank clears his throat awkwardly, but no one moves.

The look in her eyes makes my chest tighten—anger, confusion, and something else I can’t quite place. I swallow hard, knowing I’ve got one chance to get this right.

“It’s… a surprise,” I say, forcing my voice steady even though my heart is racing. “Something for you.”

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