Page 8 of Matched with the Playboy Next Door

“Coffee?” she says, waving it in front of my face. “You look like you need one.”

“Why are you here so early?” I ask, stepping aside to let her in.

“I couldn’t wait to see how you’re doing,” Mia says, breezing past me. “Also, I could tell from your texts that you’re… well, struggling.”

I grab the coffee from her, half-expecting it to be just the caffeine fix I need. “Yeah, you could say that. Things here are… not going the way I expected.”

“Things? Like Riley?” she says, arching an eyebrow.

I nod, the frustration from earlier bubbling up again. “She’s impossible. Everything I do annoys her. I tried to mow the lawn yesterday morning—at six a.m.—and she lit into me like I was the devil.”

Mia laughs, shaking her head. “You mowed the lawn at six a.m.? That’s your first mistake.”

“Yeah, I know,” I admit, running a hand through my bedhead. “She also thinks I’m just some rich guy who doesn’t know how to do anything without screwing it up.”

Mia leans back, tapping her chin. “Well, maybe you’re trying too hard to be perfect. That’s the vibe I’m getting. You don’t need to prove anythingto her, ya know.”

I stare at her, realization dawning. “You think I’m trying too hard?”

“Of course you are!” Mia exclaims. “You didn’t come here to be some perfect small-town guy or impress anyone, Ethan. You came here to get away from the chaos, away from that New York personality your parents forced on you. Stop trying so hard. Just be yourself.”

“I’m not sure I know how,” I say as I exhale slowly. “And what am I supposed to do? Just… let things happen?”

“Exactly. Relax. Go with the flow.”

Relax.She makes it sound so easy! I let out a laugh, feeling lighter. “So, no more mowing at dawn, then?”

“I wouldn’t recommend it,” she says with a smirk. “But you’ll figure it out. Come on, let’s grab some supplies and a drink. You need to stop brooding about Riley and let her see the real you.”

“Fine, but don’t blame me when I mess up again. This whole small-town thing...” I sigh. “It’s going to take some getting used to.”

CHAPTER 4

RILEY

Ishould’ve known Aunt Dotty was up to something when she shoved a tray of cookies into my hands this morning and insisted I bring them to the community baking event. I had other plans for my Saturday, but let’s face it—when Aunt Dotty gets that sparkle in her eye, resistance is futile. Besides, it’s not like my plans were all that exciting. Working in the hardware store doesn’t exactly scream “wild weekend.”

“Oh, come on, Riley,” she’d said, practically shoving me out the door. “It’ll be good for you to get out. Plus, everyone loves my oatmeal raisin cookies.”

“They love them because they think they’re chocolate chip,” I muttered, but she just waved me off.

Aunt Dotty meant well, and I wasn’t about to disappoint her, even if oatmeal raisin cookies are just a cruel trickdisguised as dessert. But now, here I am, standing awkwardly at the edge of the park, holding the cookie tray like a peace offering I don’t remember agreeing to. The event is in full swing—kids running around, music blaring from a scratchy speaker, and half the town milling about like it’s the highlight of the year.

I glance around at the sea of cheerful faces, feeling out of place. Events like this aren’t my thing, but Aunt Dotty’s smile this morning made it hard to say no.

“Riley!”

I turn to see Mia bounding toward me like a golden retriever with a secret. She’s wearing a perfectly coordinated outfit, complete with wedges that she somehow maneuvers effortlessly across the grass.

“Oh no,” I mutter under my breath.

“Oh yes,” she replies, grinning as if she heard me. “You came! I’m so glad you chose the bake-off over hiding in your hardware store all day.”

“It’s not hiding if it’s my job. I came because Aunt Dotty practically shoved me out the door,” I reply, narrowing my eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re here to cause trouble. What’s the real reason, Mia?”

“Just enjoying the event,” she says, completely unconvincing. “And you know, catching up with my favorite cousin.”

I glance around, trying to spot Ethan. He’s not hard to find, standing by a table full of carnival games, looking way too relaxed in jeans and a T-shirt. Of course, he’ssurrounded by a group of admirers—mostly women laughing too loudly at whatever he’s saying.

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