Page 24 of Matched with the Hollywood Heartthrob (Matched for Love #4)

JACK

T omorrow is my date with Ashley, and to say I’m unprepared is an understatement. But to be fair, how does one prepare for that sort of thing?

I stare at the canvas in front of me, paintbrush in hand, but the strokes feel like they aren’t quite coming out right.

I’ve been at this for hours, my focus flickering between the canvas and the thoughts that keep pushing their way into my mind.

My usual flow of creativity feels off, but I can’t pinpoint why.

As my brush moves across the canvas, the image starts to take form, and I realize—somewhere between the strokes and the colors—what I’m painting. It’s her. Mia.

I stop mid-motion, staring at the image unfolding before me.

It’s a simple image, but it’s her, standing out in the backyard, holding a flower.

Her smile is soft in my mind, and I can’t shake how she looked in my yard that day.

I can feel the tension in the pit of my stomach, and I know I should stop, but I can’t.

The more I paint, the more the image feels right.

I hate it. I shouldn’t be painting her. I shouldn’t be thinking about her this much.

This whole arrangement, including the date and the people involved, should all be a business transaction.

Nothing personal. But all I can see now is her face—her soft, determined features, the way she looked at me when we spoke.

The way she kissed me. I feel my frustration building, and I brush the canvas harder, trying to shift my focus elsewhere.

My phone vibrates on the counter, and I glance at it. It’s my dad. We talk every day via text, but it’s always good to hear his voice.

I set the brush aside, wiping my hands clean before picking it up. “Hey, Dad.”

“Jack,” he says, his voice light, familiar. “How’s the recent painting going?”

I snort softly, leaning back in my chair. “Getting there. You know, nothing ever goes as planned. I’m more distracted than I thought I’d be.”

“Why? Is it the date tomorrow you’re worried about?”

If only he knew. He knows about Mia and how she’s helping me, but he doesn’t really know about her. Not in the way he thinks he does. “Yeah. The date.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll charm her. I’m sure you will, you’ve always been a charmer.”

I quickly change the topic. “When are you going to mention losing a thousand dollars to Harry on your last golf bet?”

I rise from the stool and peek out the window. It’s a beautiful afternoon. I’m home alone. Brody is in town.

My dad scoffs. “Because you’re going to gloat. Why should I tell you?”

I laugh. “Of course I’ll gloat. This doesn’t look good, Dad, you’ve been trying for years. Just admit defeat. You can’t beat Harry.”

He hisses. “I’ll beat him. One day. Trust me.”

“I put my trust in Harry on this one.”

“Traitor.”

We talk for a few more minutes, and then he hangs up after reminding me to take care of myself. I set the phone back down and look at the canvas again. Mia’s image stares back at me, and I’m left with the same feeling in my gut.

I’ve got to focus. I can’t let myself get sidetracked. This isn’t about me. It’s about the plan. I know that. I have to find a woman, build a relationship, and solidify my reputation. If not for anyone else, for my dad.

I take a deep breath and walk out of the room.

I ’m already over this.

It’s the day of my date with Ashley, and as usual, I’m not thrilled about it.

I drive to the park, a private one Mia recommended, and I get there early.

The air feels heavy, the weight of my mind pushing down on me as I sit in the car for a moment, staring ahead at the green surroundings.

A part of me wonders if I should just turn around, go back to the cottage, and forget about this whole ridiculous plan.

But I can’t. I made a promise, and I’m not about to back out. Not yet.

I step out of the car, carrying the fruit basket, and make my way to the designated spot where we’re meeting. The soft rustling of leaves fills the air, and there’s an odd sense of calm in the park, but it’s lost on me.

I glance at my phone for the time, mentally preparing myself for what’s about to happen. I didn’t even bother texting Denise after the disaster of the art exhibition, and now, I’m already feeling the same about Ashley.

“Jack?”

I look up to see a lady walking toward me, a vision in a red dress. She’s beautiful, in an exotic way. I can only summon a little bit of interest.

“I’m Ashley.”

“I figured. Hi, Ashley.”

She beams at me. “It’s good to see you. I have a spot in the back. Come on.”

She leads me toward the garden in the back, where there’s a mat under several plates of different food. I set down my basket and lower myself down beside her. This time, I want to put in an effort.

“You’re really pretty, Ashley.”

“Thank you, Jack. You don’t look bad yourself.”

I smile. “So, you’re an event planner?”

“Yes. It’s what I’ve always loved to do. When I was a kid, I used to plan everyone’s birthdays and parties.”

I laugh. “I love it when people learn themselves and do what they love.”

“Is that why you paint? Mia said you’re a painter. She couldn’t show me any of your pieces, though.”

I’m a little grateful Mia didn’t tell Ashley I’m an actor. If the relationship develops, she’ll find out, but at least not immediately.

“I’m very shy. I don’t like to show people my work.”

“You don’t seem shy to me.” She winks. Normally, I’d build on this momentum and have her by the end of the night, but for some reason, I pump my brakes and change the conversation.

“I’m boring, Ashley. Why don’t you tell me more about yourself?”

As we eat, Ashley goes on and on about her life—which is quite interesting, actually. She tells me about studying business at NYU and returning to her small town after living a life of disillusionment for the longest time. At least I agree with her on that one.

“You’re right about big cities,” I say. “There’s too much noise. Too much speed. No matter how strong you are, you get swept up in the waves if you’re not careful enough.”

Ashley smiles, her eyes softening with understanding.

“Exactly. It’s like everything’s just… so much.

I think I needed to step away from all of that, come back to something more peaceful.

That’s why I love planning events here, in a smaller town where people can actually slow down and enjoy life, you know? ”

I nod, feeling a strange connection to her words. There’s something comforting about the simplicity she’s describing, something that almost aligns with the peace I’ve found in Bardstown.

“So, do you miss New York?” I ask, curious about her transition from the city to here.

She shrugs, pushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I miss the energy sometimes, sure. But I think I’ve grown past needing the chaos.”

I watch her as she speaks, her voice steady and confident.

She seems happy, grounded, and content. The kind of person who would make a good partner, someone who can handle a life that isn’t always predictable.

And yet, a part of me still feels detached.

Something is missing—an emotional connection, a spark that I can’t force no matter how hard I try.

Ashley laughs softly as she picks up a grape and pops it into her mouth.

“I have to admit though, it was a little intimidating coming back to this town after so many years. People don’t forget, and there’s a lot of pressure to prove that I made the right decision.

You know, leaving behind all those big opportunities. ”

We talk a little bit more, until the sun dips down the horizon and our fruit baskets and little food plates are empty. It’s an enjoyable date. Really.

When it’s time to go, Ashley smiles as we stand up, and I can’t help but return the gesture. She’s sweet, easy to talk to.

“I’ll walk you to your car,” I say, trying to sound more engaged than I feel.

Ashley’s eyes light up, and she leads the way toward her vehicle parked a little further down the path. As we reach it, she turns to face me, giving me a quick hug. “It was really nice spending time with you, Jack,” she says, her voice light and hopeful.

I hug her back, though it feels like a courtesy more than anything else. “Yeah, you too,” I reply, giving her a half-smile.

She pulls back slightly, eyes still shining. “Let’s do this again sometime.”

I nod. “Take care, Ashley,” I say, giving her a small wave as she climbs into her car. She waves back, and I watch as she drives off.

I get into my car, starting the engine without much enthusiasm. The drive back to town is quiet. I don’t bother with the radio. It’s been a long day, and I can’t stop thinking about how unfulfilled I feel, despite having a great time with Ashley.

When I reach Bardstown, I don’t go straight home. Something inside me makes me veer left, pulling into the parking lot outside Mia’s flower shop.

I tell myself it’s just to check in. It’s just a quick stop to see if she’s around, no big deal. But even as I get out of the car, I know it’s more than that.

I push open the door and step inside, the sweet scent of fresh flowers immediately filling my lungs. I’m surprised to see only Flora in the shop. She looks up when I walk in, surprised to see me.

“Jack! What brings you here?” Flora greets me warmly, her eyes lighting up with recognition.

“I was just in the area,” I say casually.

“Wonderful. It’s lovely to see you again.”

“Thank you.” I scan the shop. “Is Mia around?”

She shakes her head, her curls bouncing. “No.”

I pause, expecting her to say more, but when she doesn’t, I clear my throat. “Um, will she be away for long?”

Flora pauses, a thoughtful expression on her face as she stares at me. Then, finally, “She’s at the children’s hospital,” she says, clearly amused by something.

“Children’s hospital?” I repeat, a little surprised.

“She co-owns a foundation and volunteers there every weekend,” Flora explains, proud of her daughter.

Mia’s always doing something for others. It’s one of the things I noticed about her from the start.

“Will she be back soon?” I ask, unable to hide the flicker of hope rising inside me.

Flora shakes her head. “Probably not for a while. She spends hours there.”

I’m about to leave, telling myself I’ve heard enough, but something pulls me in. I need to see her again, need to understand what it is about her that keeps me coming back. It’s not just the attraction. It’s not just the frustration. There’s something else, something deeper.

“Would you be kind enough to share the address with me?”

Flora beams. “I’m nothing if not kind, sweetheart.”

I take down the address with appreciation. “Thank you, Flora.”

“You’re welcome. Take care, Jack.”

I leave the shop and get into my car, my mind racing with thoughts of Mia. When I input the address in the GPS, it’s about a fifteen-minute drive. I don’t mind.

When I pull into the parking lot of the children’s hospital, I grab my phone and dial Mia’s number, hoping she’ll pick up, even though I already know it’s probably a long shot. The call rings and rings until it finally goes to voicemail.

“Hey, it’s Mia,” she says in her usual, cheerful voice. “I’m probably busy with something, but leave a message and I’ll get back to you.”

I open the car door and walk inside, the familiar scent of antiseptic filling my nostrils as I approach the front desk.

The receptionist behind the counter glances up at me, her eyes widening slightly when she sees me.

I can feel the instant recognition—the way her gaze lingers on me just a little too long.

“Can I help you?” she asks, a little too eagerly, but trying to maintain professionalism.

“Yeah,” I say, my voice calm but a little distracted. “I’m looking for Mia. Mia Davis? She volunteers here. I was hoping to see her.”

“Oh, Mia, um, yes.” Then, her eyes brim with excitement. “You’re Jack Calloway, right? The actor?”

I don’t answer immediately, unsure how to respond to her sudden excitement. I’ve spent weeks in Bardstown not being recognized, and honestly, I love it. But I give the receptionist a small nod and my best superstar celebrity smile.

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“Oh my goodness.” She takes a deep breath as if trying to calm herself. “You look even better in person. I loved you in The Iris . You killed your role. You kill all your roles.”

“Thank you, Dani.”

She gasps, as if me knowing her name is a wonder when there’s literally a name tag pinned to her shirt. “Mia?” I remind her. “I’d love to see her.”

“Garden,” Dani answers. “Yes, she’s usually in the garden in the back. Just follow the signs to the outdoor area, and you should be able to find her.”

“Thank you, Dani.” I wink at her before retracing my steps back out of the hospital.

I step through the glass doors that lead to the garden, the sound of children laughing and playing in the distance growing louder with each step.

I walk down the path, passing rows of flowers and a few benches where people sit and talk.

It’s a peaceful place, and I can see why Mia would spend so much time here.

It’s easy to spot her.

Mia’s standing by a small flower bed, talking to a young boy.

She’s kneeling beside him, her hands on his shoulders as she listens intently to whatever he’s saying.

Her hair is pulled back in a loose ponytail, and she’s wearing a simple T-shirt and jeans.

She doesn’t see me at first, and for a moment, I just stand there and watch her.

Around her, the other kids are laughing, their energy vibrant despite the obvious signs of illness.

I can see it—the faint pallor of their skin, the hospital bracelets, the way they move carefully—but they’re all so full of life in this moment.

Mia is the spark, and it’s clear she cares deeply for them.

I can’t help but feel something shift inside me, a tightness in my chest that I’m not prepared for.

She’s not even their mother and yet she’s here, caring for them, giving them hope, spending time with them. My inner child rears his head.

One of the kids, a little girl with a big bow in her hair, suddenly spots me. Her doll falls from her hand, and her eyes widen. Wait, does she recognize me? She looks to be about ten years old.

“Look!” She points in my direction. “It’s Jack Calloway!” she squeals, her voice high and excited, and it startles me.

Mia turns quickly, her eyes locking onto mine. In that moment, time slows.