Page 4 of Matched with the Grumpy Secret Prince

Setting the glass down, I grab my laptop from the coffee table and settle onto the sectional, pulling up the plans Mrs. Whitmore had so enthusiastically approved just days ago. The floral arrangements, the seating chart, the mood board—I had crafted every detail with care, and now I have to start from scratch.

Hours slip by, the city lights outside fading as the sky deepens into night. When I look up, the clock reads past midnight, and my wine glass is empty. My shoulders ache, and my eyes burnfrom staring at the screen, but the new plan is finally taking shape.

But as I save the file and close my laptop, I can’t shake the thought that keeps creeping in at moments like these. Everybody always wants their events to be perfect. I work day and night to maintain my reputation in the city, but we have clients like Mrs. Whitmore who just continually test my patience! I rub my temple as I let out a long sigh. I just want to be whisked out of here so badly. My body and brain are begging for a break.

I subconsciously reach for my phone, searching for my sister’s number, but then I stop as I scroll because I know calling Mia would not be a great idea. She has a way of seeing through me, and I am not ready for her to analyze me.

With another long sigh, I practically drag myself to my room and land on my bed, falling asleep almost immediately.

GRAHAM

The rumble of my truck’s engine fills the quiet morning as I roll back into Bardstown. The familiar roads twist and turn past the same green fields and weathered fences I’ve driven by a hundred times. I crack the window, letting the crisp air rush in. It’s good to be back, even if I was only gone a few days.

I slow down as I hit Main Street, where Bardstown is just starting to wake up. The sun glints off the diner’s windows, and the smell of fresh-baked bread drifts from the bakery down the block. People mill about the sidewalk, chatting in clusters, their voices mingling with the faint hum of morning activity.

I park in front of the general store, step out, and stretch. A group of locals sits on the bench near the entrance, their voices carrying in the cool air.

“A wedding!” Mrs. Harper says, her hands clasped around a steaming coffee cup. “It’s been years since Bardstown’s had one this big. Ethan, the city boy—well, he’s a townie now—and Riley are perfect for each other.”

“Perfect, indeed,” Mr. Willis agrees, nodding. “It’s the talk of the whole town. Three months from now, it’ll be the event of the year.”

I pause just outside the store, pretending to glance at the bulletin board as their conversation flows around me. I’ve seen Ethan around town—one of those friendly types who always has a wave or a quick smile. It doesn’t surprise me that the wedding has everyone buzzing. Bardstown loves its celebrations, and weddings are a rare treat here.

“They’re even talking about having it at the old Holloway estate,” Mrs. Harper continues, her tone full of excitement. “Can you imagine? That place hasn’t seen a party in decades.”

“That’ll take some work to get in shape,” Mr. Willis adds, shaking his head. “But I’m sure they will make it work. Riley has always been determined and headstrong. She always gets what she wants.”

I grab a bag of coffee from the shelf inside the store, the conversation still playing in the back of my mind. Weddings, venues, and local excitement—it’s all part of the Bardstown charm, the kind of thing I’ve grown used to since I moved here.

The truth is, I like it here. It’s different from the chaos of my childhood and my history. The rhythm of this town, the way people look out for each other, even the gossip—it feels steady, predictable. And after years of chasing work from one job site to the next, that steadiness is exactly what I needed.

Stepping back outside, I give a quick nod to Mrs. Harper and Mr. Willis as I pass. They smile back, still deep in their discussion about the wedding.

I toss the bag of coffee onto the passenger seat of my truck and lean against the door for a moment, taking in the scene. Bardstown looks the same as always—quiet streets, friendly faces, a town that feels untouched by the rush of the outside world.

But today, there’s a buzz in the air, a feeling that something big is on the horizon. And while I can’t quite put my finger on it, I can’t help but wonder how it might ripple through this little town—and my life.

I climb back into the truck, the coffee bag crinkling beside me from the passenger seat, and start the engine. Bardstown may thrive on the predictable, but something tells me things are about to get interesting.

The drive home is as uneventful as ever. Just me, the truck, and the road that winds past a couple of farms and a stretch of woods before opening up to my place. The small, single-story house sits on a decent patch of land—nothing fancy, but it’s sturdy and quiet, which suits me just fine.

I park in the gravel driveway and head inside, kicking off my boots by the door. The place is as I left it—neat but lived-in, with tools scattered on the workbench in the corner and a stack of unopened mail on the kitchen counter.

I glance into the pantry and let out a low sigh. Bare. Not even a can of soup or a bag of chips left. I toss the empty coffee tin into the trash and shake my head. Looks like I need more than groceries.

Back in the truck, I decided to stop by Riley’s hardware store. It’s always stocked with whatever odds and ends I might need—nails, lightbulbs, a wrench to replace the one I misplaced lastmonth. And Riley’s good company, always quick with a smile or a joke about how I should’ve bought her out of business by now.

The parking lot’s nearly empty when I pull up. A couple of old pickups and Mrs. Norton’s ancient station wagon are parked near the front. I step inside, the bell jingling above the door, and spot Riley behind the counter, stacking some freshly delivered boxes.

“Hey, stranger,” she says, glancing up with a grin. “I was starting to think you skipped town.”

I chuckle, leaning against the counter. “Not quite. Just had a job two towns over. A couple of days of hammering out some designs and locking in a contract.”

“Must’ve been a big deal to drag you out of Bardstown,” she teases, grabbing a box cutter to slice through the tape.

“It was worth it,” I say with a shrug. “They’re building a new library, and they liked my ideas and designs for the outdoor spaces. Looks like I’ll be back and forth for the next few months.”

Riley raises an eyebrow, clearly impressed. “Fancy.”

---