Chapter 9ETHAN
CHAPTER 9
ETHAN
T he auction is in full swing, and the crowd’s energy is infectious. I stand off to the side, watching as Riley expertly fields bids with that calm, no-nonsense confidence she seems to have in spades. It’s funny how just a few weeks ago, she wouldn’t even look at me without a glare. Now? She’s got this little spark in her eyes, like she’s actually enjoying herself.
And I can’t stop watching her.
But as the bidding continues, I notice the way her shoulders tense slightly. She’s been on her feet all night, darting between the stage and the crowd, making sure everything runs smoothly. She’s good at it—great, even—but I can tell she’s running on fumes.
Without thinking, I step away from the stage and head toward the refreshments table. A plate of barbecue sliders catches my eye, and I grab two, along with a couple of bottled waters.
When I make my way back to Riley, she’s just finished announcing the winner of Mrs. Harriet’s honey-glazed pork roast. The crowd cheers as Mrs. Harriet beams, and Riley steps off the stage, looking like she could use a moment to breathe.
“Here,” I say, holding out the plate and a bottle of water as she approaches.
She blinks, surprised. “What’s this?”
“Food. Water. You know, the basics,” I say, smirking.
Her lips twitch like she’s trying not to smile. “I didn’t ask for this.”
“You didn’t have to,” I reply, shoving the plate gently into her hands. “You’re welcome, by the way.”
She rolls her eyes but takes the plate, opening the bottle of water first. “Thanks,” she says softly, her eyes meeting mine for just a second before she takes a sip of water. It’s not much, but it feels real.
By the time the auction wraps up, the crowd starts to thin, and the event finally begins winding down. The tables are littered with empty plates and cups, and the stage is a mess of banners and decorations.
“Looks like clean-up duty is calling,” Riley says, setting her now-empty plate on the stage.
“I’ll help,” I offer, grabbing a trash bag from the supply bin nearby .
She raises an eyebrow. “You? Cleaning? This I have to see.”
“Don’t sound so surprised,” I reply, grinning. “I’m perfectly capable of manual labor.”
“We’ll see,” she says, a playful edge in her voice, but her lips quirk like she’s trying not to smile.
“Watch and learn,” I quip, heading to the nearest table and sweeping discarded cups and napkins into the bag.
Riley grabs another trash bag and joins me, and soon, we fall into an easy rhythm, clearing tables and stacking chairs. The hum of conversation fades as most of the volunteers head out, leaving just a handful of us behind.
“You’re not half bad at this,” she says after a while, glancing over at me.
“High praise,” I reply, tossing a crumpled napkin into the bag. “Careful, Riley. You might start giving people the impression you actually like me.”
“Don’t make me regret saying that,” she replies, shaking her head with a faint smile.
For a moment, we work in silence, the sounds of crickets and distant laughter filling the air. It’s peaceful in a way I didn’t expect, and I find myself watching her again, the way her brow furrows slightly when she’s focused, the way her lips press together when she’s thinking.
“So,” I say, breaking the quiet, “how did you end up running the hardware store? Was that always the plan?”
She hesitates, glancing down at the bag in her hands. “Not really. The hardware store belonged to my parents. After they passed, Aunt Dotty stepped in, and I needed something steady to keep me grounded. The store kind of became… home. It gave me a purpose, and I guess, in a way, it’s been a way to keep them close.”
I nod, letting her words sink in. “That makes sense. You’re good at it—you know, running things.”
She looks at me, her expression softer than usual. “What about you? You mentioned the high-pressure family business, but what really made you leave New York?”
I pause, the question hanging between us. “I guess I got tired of trying to be someone I’m not,” I admit. “My parents expected me to follow a certain path, to be the guy who could handle the pressure and the spotlight. But it wasn’t me—not really. I needed something quieter. Something real.”
Riley studies me for a moment, her gaze searching. “And you think you’ll find that here?”
“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “But I’m starting to think it’s possible.”
She nods, her eyes lingering on mine for a beat too long.
“Hey,” I say, my voice lightening as I hold up the trash bag, “I think we’re making progress. Maybe I’m not such a useless city boy, after all.”
She laughs, the sound soft and genuine. “Don’t push your luck.”
We keep working, the banter flowing easier now, but underneath it all, there’s something else—a quiet understanding, a connection I didn’t expect .
As we finish stacking the last of the chairs, Riley leans against the stage, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “You’re not what I expected,” she says quietly.
“Neither are you,” I reply, stepping closer.
She looks at me, her eyes catching the faint glow of the string lights above. For a moment, everything else fades—the mess, the empty park, the lingering sounds of the night. It’s just us, standing there in the quiet, and I feel it again—that pull, that thing I can’t quite name but don’t want to ignore.
But before I can say anything, someone calls out from across the park, breaking the moment.
“Great job, you two!” Mia shouts, waving as she heads toward us.
Riley steps back, the spell broken, and I shove my hands into my pockets, trying to mask the sudden rush of disappointment.
“Guess we’re done here,” she says, her voice steady again.
“Yeah,” I say, forcing a grin. “For now.”
But as we walk toward Mia, I can’t shake the feeling that this night wasn’t just about cleaning up or making small talk. It was something more.
And for once, I think Riley might feel it, too.
A fter Mia’s cheerful interruption during clean-up, Riley and I make our way toward the parking lot, both of us carrying what’s left of the supplies. The park is quieter now, the crowd from earlier mostly gone, but a few groups linger near their cars, chatting under the glow of the streetlights.
Riley’s been quiet since Mia broke up our moment back on the stage. I can’t tell if she’s lost in thought or just too tired to talk, but either way, I leave her be. There’s a calmness between us now, even in the silence, like the walls she keeps putting up have finally dropped—if only just a little.
As we near the lot, a small group of townsfolk waves at us from the side. I recognize them from the event earlier—people I’ve seen around but haven’t talked to much. Riley slows her pace, her posture stiffening slightly as one of the women steps forward, a smile plastered across her face.
“Well, well,” the woman says, her tone sugary sweet but with an undercurrent that makes my jaw tighten. “If it isn’t Bardstown’s newest power couple.”
Riley stops in her tracks, her grip tightening on the strap of her bag. “We’re not a couple,” she says flatly.
“Oh, of course not,” the woman replies, her smile widening. “But you have to admit, you two put on quite a show tonight. It’s not every day Riley shows this much… enthusiasm in front of a crowd.”
One of the other women in the group snickers. “It’s true. She’s usually more of a behind-the-scenes type. I guess Ethan must’ve brought out her dramatic side. ”
Riley’s knuckles turn white as she grips her bag. I glance at her, but she’s staring straight ahead, her jaw set.
“Funny,” another man in the group pipes up, his voice dripping with mock curiosity. “Riley, didn’t you say you weren’t much for the spotlight? But then Ethan shows up, and suddenly you’re hosting events and making speeches. Who knew all it took was the right… inspiration?”
The group laughs, the sound grating against my nerves.
“That’s enough,” Riley says, her voice low but steady.
“Oh, we’re just teasing,” the first woman says, waving a hand dismissively. “Don’t get so defensive. It’s just… surprising, that’s all. You’ve never exactly been the center of attention type. But I guess everyone changes when they get the right kind of company.”
That does it.
I step forward before I can think twice, planting myself between Riley and the group. “You know,” I say, my tone calm but firm, “it’s funny how people who do the least always have the most to say.”
The laughter stops immediately. The woman’s smile falters, and she blinks at me, clearly caught off guard.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asks, her tone less confident now.
“It means Riley worked her butt off tonight to make this event a success,” I reply, my voice steady. “While the rest of you were standing around clapping, she was the one making sure everything ran smoothly. She didn’t ask for the spotlight—you put her there because you needed her to clean up your mess.”
The group exchanges uneasy glances, but I’m not done.
“And for the record,” I add, glancing at each of them, “Riley doesn’t need anyone to ‘bring out’ her potential. She’s been holding this town together long before I got here. Maybe instead of making snide comments, you should try thanking her for everything she does.”
The silence that follows is deafening. The woman clears her throat, looking flustered. “Well, we didn’t mean anything by it. We were just?—”
“Just leaving,” I finish for her, raising an eyebrow.
Her mouth opens and closes a few times before she gives a tight nod. The group quickly disperses, their murmurs fading as they retreat toward their cars.
I turn back to Riley, who’s staring at me like she doesn’t quite know what to make of me. Her grip on her bag has loosened, and there’s something in her eyes—surprise, maybe, or something softer.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she says quietly, her gaze lingering on me. “But… thanks. They don’t usually mean anything by it, but it’s nice to know someone has my back.”
“I know,” I reply, shrugging. “But someone had to.”
She looks down for a moment, her expression thoughtful. “Thanks,” she says again, this time with a small but genuine smile. “I mean it.”
“Anytime,” I reply, giving her a small smile .
We fall into step again, the tension between us replaced by something warmer. As we reach her truck, she hesitates, her hand on the door handle.
“Ethan?” she says, glancing at me.
“Yeah?”
She pauses, like she’s weighing her words carefully. “It’s nothing. Forget I said anything.”
I raise an eyebrow, curious. “You know that’s not possible. What is it?”
Her lips twitch, like she’s fighting a smile. “Just… thanks for sticking up for me tonight. It means a lot.”
“You’re welcome,” I say, leaning against the truck door.
“Goodnight, Ethan,” she says softly, her tone warmer than I expected.
“Goodnight, Riley,” I reply, stepping back as she climbs into her truck.
I watch as her taillights disappear into the night, and for the first time since I got here, I feel like maybe—just maybe—I’m starting to earn her trust.
“Well, that was… something,” Mia’s voice cuts through the quiet. I glance over to see her leaning against her car, arms crossed and a knowing look on her face.
“What?” I ask, feigning ignorance as I grab my keys.
“Oh, don’t play dumb,” she says, smirking. “The big speech? The ‘Riley doesn’t need anyone to bring out her potential’ line? That was more than just defending a neighbor. I was stalking over here to lay into those idiots myself, but it looks like you had it all taken care of.”
“She deserved to be defended,” I reply, shrugging.
Mia steps closer, tilting her head. “Sure, but you don’t usually get that worked up. So, what’s going on?”
“Nothing’s going on,” I say firmly. “Riley deals with enough without people adding to it.”
Mia raises an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. Well, if that’s the case, I won’t bother using my matchmaking skills on you two.”
“Good,” I say, shooting her a look as I open my car door. “Because there’s nothing to matchmake.”
She grins, clearly unconvinced. “If you say so. But Ethan… I think you’ve already made your choice. You’re falling for her, whether you realize it or not.”
“Goodnight, Mia,” I say, ignoring the heat creeping up my neck.
“Goodnight, Ethan,” she replies, her smirk widening as she waves me off.
As I drive home, her words linger in my mind. You’re falling for her, whether you realize it or not.
And I think she might be right.