Page 31 of Matched with the Grumpy Secret Prince

As I walk toward my truck, the guilt twists in my chest, heavy and unrelenting.

I didn’t mean to leave her hanging like that. But I don’t know how to let her in without risking everything I’ve built here. Bardstown is smaller than anyone could ever imagine. One person finding out the secret I’ve been keeping for seven years could lead to the entire town finding out, and I’m not ready for that. I’m not sure I would ever be prepared for that.

This is turning out to be far more complicated than I ever thought.

SOPHIE

The morning air is crisp, the kind that makes you feel alive and ready to tackle anything. Or at least, that’s what I’m telling myself as I step out of my car, clutching my planner like a shield.

Graham’s house stands ahead, tucked at the edge of Bardstown, where the trees grow thick, and the air smells faintly of pine. It’s quiet here, far removed from the buzz of the town square. Peaceful. I can see why he likes it.

I take a deep breath, my nerves buzzing as I walk up the gravel path toward the house. The grass on the walkway is a little moist as I can see the drops on my shoes, but it’s nothing a quick clean later can’t fix. After how things went at the pork festival, I debated whether approaching him again was a good idea. But the work he did for the festival was incredible. It’s clear he has an eye for detail and a way of bringing spaces to life, and if anyone can help me pull off Riley and Ethan’s dream wedding, it’s him.

And so, here I am.

I knock on the open door, stepping inside, when I hear the faint scrape of a chair.

Graham looks up from his drafting table, his expression unreadable as always. He’s in a gray T-shirt and jeans, ink stains lightly smudging his hands, and for a moment, I’m struck by how at ease he looks here—completely in his element.

“Sophie,” he says, his tone neutral. “What brings you by?”

I step further in, clutching my planner a little tighter. “I wanted to talk to you about the wedding, specifically the Holloway mansion. I still haven’t gotten your email, and time is running out .”

He raises an eyebrow, leaning back against the bench. “I’m sorry. I’ve been so busy. I haven’t finalized all the designs yet, but I’m working on them.”

I glance around the room, the walls lined with tools and sketches pinned haphazardly to a corkboard. It’s practical, no-nonsense, exactly what I’d expect from him.

“I know things have been… a little tense between us. Especially after the games yesterday,” I start, choosing my words carefully. “And I just want to say that I’m sorry if I pushed too hard at the festival. That wasn’t my intention.”

He nods but doesn’t say anything, his gaze steady on me.

I press on, refusing to let his silence throw me off. “I hope none of it gets in the way of our work relationship here.”

Graham crosses his arms, his expression guarded. “It won’t.”

I smile, feeling better about this. I could have easily emailed him, but I had a strong feeling he would stall. “That’s all I came outhere to say. I’ll be expecting your work on the Holloway estate. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

As I leave his house and step back into the fresh morning air, I feel a renewed sense of purpose. Graham may have his walls, but I’m determined to prove we can create something incredible together.

Even if I have to tiptoe around those walls to do it.

Mia’s flower shop smells like heaven—fresh blooms, earthy greens, and a faint hint of lavender candles burning on the counter. It’s the perfect neutral ground for Graham and me to work, and I appreciate Mia for offering it.

The flower shop is quieter than I expected today, the usual hum of customers replaced by the soft rustle of leaves as Graham moves a potted fern out of the way to make space for his sketches. Instead of sending the email as we agreed, he said we should meet face-to-face and discuss the plans. And, of course, I oblige. He’s already spread out his tools—pencils, rulers, and a notebook filled with rough ideas for the Holloway estate layout.

I pull up a chair across from him, carefully setting my planner on the table. “Ready to dive in?”

He nods, his expression focused as he begins outlining the plans we’ve been discussing. His precision is remarkable, every line deliberate and exact. I try to focus on my notes, but my eyes keep drifting to him, to the way his hands move across the page with a confidence that feels effortless.

Graham Cole isn’t just good at what he does. He’s extraordinary.

The more I watch him work, the more I realize how wrong Bardstown feels for someone like him. His talent is the kind you see in big cities, designing parks that become landmarks or estates that make the covers of luxury magazines. He could thrive anywhere—anywhere but here.

And yet, here he is.

I remind myself not to wonder why. He’s made it clear that his personal life is off-limits, and I’m determined not to push him again. The last thing I want is to complicate things when we’re finally making progress for Riley and Ethan’s big day.

Still, something about him makes it hard to look away.

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