Page 33 of Matched with the Grumpy Secret Prince

And as I drive back to Mia’s house, I can’t shake the image of him—head bent over the table, entirely in his element.

Graham Cole might be a mystery, but he’s also undeniably brilliant.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s what makes him so hard to ignore.

By the time I get home, my body feels heavier than usual, the kind of exhaustion that settles in your bones and refuses to budge. I head straight to the bathroom, peeling off my clothes and stepping into a cold shower. The icy water shocks my senses, but it’s exactly what I need—a reset button for both my body and my mind.

Afterward, I collapse onto my bed, pulling the comforter up to my chin. The combination of the shower and the room's quiet lulls me to sleep almost instantly.

“Sophie?”

Mia’s voice filters into my dreams, pulling me reluctantly back to reality.

I blink my eyes open to find her standing in my doorway, her head tilted in curiosity. “You okay? You’ve been out for a while.”

I sit up, rubbing my eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just needed a nap. It’s been a long day.”

Mia steps inside, leaning against the doorframe. “Long enough that you left the flower shop early? That’s not like you.”

“Graham made me leave,” I admit with a faint smile. “He said I was overworking myself and needed to rest.”

Mia’s eyebrows shoot up, a teasing grin spreading across her face. “Graham made you leave? The same Graham who keeps everyone at arm’s length?”

I roll my eyes, already bracing myself for her comments. “Don’t start.”

“I’m just saying,” she says, her grin widening. “Maybe the two of you are finally starting to understand each other.”

“We’re just learning to work together without making things awkward,” I say quickly, though even I can hear the hesitation in my voice. “That’s it.”

Mia doesn’t buy it for a second. “But he intrigues you, doesn’t he?”

I sigh, leaning back against the headboard. “A little. Okay, a lot. There’s… something about him. He’s so good at what he does, and he’s so closed off at the same time. It makes me wonder what he’s keeping hidden.”

Mia gives me a knowing look. “You should take him a pie tomorrow as a thank-you for being nice today. It could be a great way to… I don’t know, pick things up.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “I don’t need advice from the great matchmaker.”

She smirks, holding up her hands in mock surrender. “Suit yourself. But a pie never hurt anyone.”

With that, she leaves the room, humming to herself as she walks down the hall.

And as much as I hate to admit it, her words stick with me.

The next day, I stop by Bardstown’s bakery on my way to the flower shop, picking up a freshly baked apple pie. I tell myself it’s just a friendly gesture, a thank-you for Graham’s kindnessyesterday. But as I walk into the shop, pie in hand, I can’t ignore the nervous flutter in my stomach.

Graham is already at the table, working on one of his sketches. He glances up when I walk in, his expression softening just slightly.

“What’s that?” he asks, nodding toward the box in my hands.

I set it on the table, wondering if I’m doing too much, but open the lid to reveal the golden crust. “Thank you for being nice yesterday and making me leave before I passed out.”

A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips, and he sets down his pencil. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know,” I say, grabbing a couple of plates from the counter. “But I wanted to.”

We sit at the table, and the smell of warm apples and cinnamon fills the air as I cut two slices. The first bite is perfect: flaky crust, sweet filling, and just enough spice.

“This is good,” Graham says, his voice a little lighter than usual.

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