Page 22 of Matched with the Grumpy Secret Prince

I shake my head. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Why not? You two hit it right off already. Working together wouldn’t be hard,” she asks, leaning forward like she’s trying to close the deal. “You need someone who knows outdoor spaces, right? Someone to design and map? Graham is a landscape architect. He’s the best person for this job.”

“Would he agree, though? I keep thinking he already has a lot on his table.”

Mia waves her hand dismissively. “You need his expertise, and this is Riley’s wedding we are talking about here. Plus, he’s a creative genius. The two of you together working on this? Bardstown is in for a show.”

I hesitated, chewing on the inside of my cheek. She has a point. As much as I hate to admit it, Graham’s background makes him the ideal person to help me figure this out.

But asking him feels… complicated. Especially since I just met him, and I don’t even know what he thinks of me yet.

“What makes you think he’d even agree?” I ask, glancing at her.

“Leave that to me,” Mia says confidently. “I’ll talk to him. Convince him it’s not a big deal. I’m very persuasive, you know.”

“I’m aware,” I mutter, though her enthusiasm brings a small smile to my face.

“Trust me,” Mia says, sitting back in her chair with a triumphant grin. “Graham may be a little closed off, but he’s a good guy. And I think he’d be more than willing to help, especially if I frame it the right way.”

I sigh, leaning forward to rest my elbows on the table. “Okay, fine. If you can get him to agree, I’ll consider it. But don’t make it weird, Mia.”

“When do I ever make things weird?” she asks innocently, batting her eyelashes.

I give her a look.

“Okay, fine,” she relents, laughing. “I’ll keep it professional. But seriously, Sophie, this is going to be great. I cannot wait!”

I nod, though a small part of me feels a flicker of nerves at the thought of working with Graham. Something about him unsettles me—not in a bad way, but in a way I can’t quite put into words.

Still, if it helps Riley and Ethan, I’ll do it.

“Okay,” I say finally, finishing the last of my drink. “Let’s see what Graham has to say.”

Mia grins, already looking far too pleased with herself. “Oh, don’t worry. He’ll say yes.”

After leaving the café, I decided to take a long way back. There’s no rush to head home, and it’s been years since I’ve taken the time to soak in Bardstown.

The streets are quieter than I remember, but there’s a certain charm in that—the way time seems to move slower here as if the rest of the world has been politely asked to wait. The small shops lining Main Street haven’t changed much, though a few new ones have popped up since I left. The bookstore is still there, its window filled with handwritten staff picks, and the candle shop next door smells as fragrant as ever.

It’s comforting, in a way, how little this place has changed. Bardstown has always been steady, rooted in its traditions and rhythms. It’s a stark contrast to Manhattan, where every block seems to reinvent itself every six months.

As I wander, my steps eventually lead me toward the fire station. The brick building stands proud on the corner, its bright red doors gleaming in the afternoon sun. I can see Sam’s truck parked out front, and the sight brings a smile to my face.

Sam has always been larger than life to me—my big brother, my protector, the person I’ve always looked up to. Even now, after all these years, the thought of him still feels like home.

I step inside, the faint smell of smoke and engine oil greeting me as I enter. The station is alive with activity—voices echoing from the back, the distant clang of metal tools.

“Can I help you?” a voice calls, and I look up to see a young firefighter approaching, wiping his hands on a rag.

“I’m looking for Sam,” I say, smiling.

He grins. “He’s in his office. Down the hall, second door on the left.”

“Thanks.”

I follow his directions, and sure enough, I find Sam sitting at his desk, pouring over what looks like a stack of incident reports. His hair has a touch of gray at his temples that I didn’t notice at dinner the other night, but he’s still unmistakably my brother.

I knock lightly on the doorframe. “Got a minute for your favorite sister?”

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