Chapter 3ETHAN
CHAPTER 3
ETHAN
I t’s been a week so far in Bardstown and I’m not sure how I thought this would go, but so far, small-town life is a lot harder than I expected.
I wake up early, partly out of habit and partly because there’s something about the quiet here that makes me feel like I’m wasting the day if I don’t get a jumpstart. I know, I know—people in these towns probably sleep until noon, but I didn’t exactly move to Bardstown to nap through life.
But as I walk out onto the back porch, my fingers wrapping around the cold metal of the old mower that the previous owners left, it hits me that maybe I’ve made a mistake.
The grass is long, maybe too long. It’s like the lawn’s been holding its breath for weeks, just waiting for someone to take care of it. I pull the mower’s cord, the engine sputters to life, and I start cutting, feeling a little bit like a real man in his element, which is ridiculous because I’ve hired landscapers before to do exactly this in New York.
The thing is, the mower is loud—loud enough that I don’t hear the sound of footsteps getting closer, and I cringe when I look up to see Riley heading my way, looking half-asleep and fully annoyed. Yeah, maybe I could’ve checked the time before firing up the mower.
Great job, Ethan—off to another stellar start with the neighbor.
“Are you serious?” she yells, the words cutting through the hum of the mower like a knife.
I wave, trying to look nonchalant. “Good morning!”
“Good morning?” Her voice is incredulous. “It’s six a.m.! Some of us value our sleep, you know?”
I wince. I didn’t consider the time. “I thought it would be a good time to get things done,” I say, grinning a little sheepishly. “You know, beat the heat.”
She marches toward me, her hands still on her hips, looking like she’s about to give me a lecture that’ll make my ears burn. I can already tell she’s unhappy with me, and I have no idea how to defuse this.
“Beat the heat?” she repeats, her voice rising. “It’s a weekend, Ethan! People like to sleep in on the weekend. Some of us actually value our mornings of peace.”
I stop the mower, hoping I can talk my way out of this, but it’s already too late.
“You know, I’m sorry, but next time, maybe you should be a little more considerate before you start rattling the whole neighborhood awake,” she continues, her tone sharp. “Or do you just think the world revolves around you?”
I can feel my irritation flaring. She’s right—I should have checked the time, but the New Yorker in me won’t back down when spoken to like this. “I’m not trying to ruin your precious Saturday,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. “Just thought I’d get the yard cleaned up for the week. It’s not like I’m doing this every day.”
Her eyes narrow, and she steps closer, her jaw clenched. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, city boy. You don’t just show up here, take over, and think everyone’s going to fall in line with whatever you want.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m not taking over anything, Riley. I’m just trying to do the right thing.”
“By mowing the lawn at six in the morning?” she scoffs, incredulous. “Yeah, real thoughtful.”
I shake my head, the frustration seeping in. “You could’ve just asked me to stop, you know. No need for the theatrics.”
“Theatrics?” she snaps, her face flushing with anger. “You think this is a performance? You’re completely out of touch with people around here. It’s not about you, Ethan. It’s about basic respect for the people you share this space with.”
The words sting, and I can feel my temper start to rise. I try to keep it in check, but I can tell we’re both headed for a blow-up.
“Okay, fair enough. I didn’t realize it was that early,” I admit, raising my hands. “Won’t happen again, I promise.”
Maybe I should bake her cookies as an apology—do people still do that here?
Riley opens her mouth to respond, but before she can, I turn and grab the mower, wheeling it toward the garage. I’ve had enough. This conversation isn’t going anywhere good, and I’m not about to fight with her first thing in the morning. This is not how I saw myself behaving, but something about Riley stirs up my argumentative side.
L ater that afternoon, after the whole lawn-mowing disaster, I head to the hardware store. I figure if I’m going to spend time here, I might as well get some tools to keep up the charade of “small-town living.” It’s not like I have a lot of other options for places to buy what I need.
As I drive through the small town, everything feels so different from my former life. It’s almost like everyone here is one big extended family; I can see the familiarity in everyone’s faces from how they speak and interact with each other. Kids and their parents at the park are having a great time, while a group of old men are nestled together in cozy rocking chairs on the sidewalk, reading the paper and chortling about days gone by—or at least, that’s what I assume based on my limited knowledge of small-town conversation.
I finally pull into the hardware store, step out of my car, and walk through the door, the bell above it jingling as I enter. My eyes immediately land on her—Riley, standing behind the counter. She’s scribbling something in the register, but as soon as she notices me, she freezes. Her eyes narrow, and I can practically hear her thoughts: Not this guy again. I’m pretty sure the universe has conspired to make me bump into Riley again, but I try to play it cool.
I flash her my most disarming smile, trying to be the charming, playful guy I’m known to be. “Hey there, Riley. How’s the rest of your day going?”
She doesn’t even look up at me at first; she shuffles through a few receipts. “Fine,” she replies, her tone colder than I expected.
I take a few steps closer, trying to close the gap, but she doesn’t make it easy. “I’m in need of a few tools for the yard,” I say, my voice warm, like I’m doing her a favor by showing up. “I was hoping you could help me out. I’m still getting the hang of all this, you know. Mowing the lawn and all that… not really my forte.”
Her eyes flick up for a split second before she lets out a barely audible sigh. She doesn’t smile and doesn’t respond with any playful banter. Instead, she starts rattling off a list of tools I need. “Lawnmower fuel, hedge trimmers, garden rake… oh, and a shovel, probably.” Her voice is still all business, and there is no sign of the easy chemistry we should have.
I raise an eyebrow. “No problem, just thought I’d ask the local expert,” I say with a grin, stepping a little closer to the counter. “You must know all the ins and outs of this stuff by now.”
Riley nods, her focus still on the register. “Yeah. Been working here long enough.”
“Long enough to teach me a thing or two?” I joke, trying to keep the mood light. “I’m sure there’s some trick to using these tools without breaking them.”
She hesitates, finally looking at me. “You’ll figure it out,” she says, handing me a basket with a few tools.
She’s efficient, I’ll give her that. If there were an Olympic event for shutting people down, Riley would be a gold medalist.
I take the basket from her, playing along. “Well, if I do mess it up, I guess I can always count on you to bail me out.”
I lean in just a little too much, smiling with that same charm I know works on most people. But Riley gives me a flat look, her expression unreadable. She glances over my shoulder as if searching for something more interesting in the store.
As I glance down into the basket, I notice that some of the tools are way too advanced for someone who’s never used them before. I look back at her, slightly confused. “Hey, Riley, are you sure these are the right ones? I might need something more… beginner-friendly?”
“Uh-huh.” She doesn’t sound like she’s really listening to me.
Just as I’m about to say something else, the doorbell rings, signaling a new customer. Riley immediately turns to help them without so much as a glance in my direction. She’s been in the store all day, and now she’s choosing to deal with someone else right in front of me?
I watch, feeling my patience thinning. She gestures for the new customer to follow her as she walks toward the tools section, explaining something in detail as if I’m not even standing there. The way she talks to this guy—so focused, so attentive—just rubs me the wrong way.
She turns to him, crouching down to explain something about garden shears with the same precision she’d used with me earlier. I stand there, trying to keep my cool, but I’m fuming. It’s not just that she’s helping someone else. It’s the fact that she’s treating me like I don’t matter—like I’m some annoying guy who’s gotten in her way.
I lean against the counter, crossing my arms. “So, that’s how it is?” I say louder than I mean to.
Riley doesn’t even flinch. “What’s that?” she asks, still not looking up from her customer.
I take a deep breath, trying to keep my tone steady, though it’s starting to slip. “You give him your full attention, but I’m just some inconvenience to you? Really?”
Finally, she looks up at me, her eyes narrowing. “Ethan, I’m trying to help someone who actually needs it. You were just fine. I’m just trying to help everyone who walks in here. It’s been a busy day, okay?”
I can feel the heat rise in my chest, but I force myself to take a step back. “I’m just trying to understand why you’re treating me like the last thing you want in your store.”
Riley’s lips press together, and for a moment, there’s a flicker of something—maybe guilt or annoyance—before she puts on that professional mask again. “I didn’t say that, Ethan. You’re the one making it all about you.”
I rub the back of my neck, heat creeping up as I realize I’ve let my frustration get the better of me. “Sorry. Long day,” I mutter, my voice quieter now. “I didn’t mean to snap.”
She doesn’t respond immediately, her gaze fixed on me like she’s deciding whether to let it slide or keep pushing. The silence between us feels heavy, charged with unspoken words I can’t seem to find.
“Are you done?” she finally asks, her voice calm but with just enough edge to remind me who’s in control here.
I let out a sharp exhale, running a hand through my hair. “Yeah. I’m done.”
“Good,” she says, already turning back to her customer. “Tools are over there. Help yourself.”
I stand there for a second longer than I should, the air between us thick and uncomfortable. I want to say something, anything, to smooth things over, but the words don’t come. Instead, I grab the tools I need and head for the checkout.
As I walk out, I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve just made things worse. It’s not even about the stupid lawnmower anymore. It’s about Riley—about the way she looks at me like I don’t belong here, like I’ve already failed some test I didn’t know I was taking.
And the worst part? I’m starting to wonder if she’s right.
T he next morning, the doorbell rings, and I drag myself out of bed, grumbling. I open the door to find Mia standing there, grinning with a coffee cup in hand.
“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 anything to 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.”