Page 31 of Matched with the Hollywood Heartthrob (Matched for Love #4)

MIA

I stand frozen in Jack’s backyard, my eyes fixated on the finished painting a few feet away.

It’s undeniably beautiful, captivating, and I can’t tear my gaze away from it.

I know the face immediately, even though it looks almost like a dream version of me—more graceful, more poised, almost ethereal.

But it’s me. I can feel my chest tighten as I take it in, trying to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions flooding me.

Jack quickly steps forward and turns the painting away. I flinch, caught off guard by his swift movement, the feeling of being exposed lingering in the air between us.

“Jack,” I whisper, unable to keep the words from tumbling out. “Is that a picture of me?”

He meets my eyes for a brief moment before his expression hardens, and he shrugs it off. “No. It’s not. I think you’ve got a god complex if you see yourself in everything, Mia.”

I stare at him, confused and hurt by the dismissive tone in his voice. My heart sinks as he continues, “The person I drew is someone you don’t know, okay? So just forget about it.”

He seems angry, and seeing how we left things a week ago, I’m not surprised. I wish I could look at the canvas again, certain I was staring at an image of myself. But he said it wasn’t me, so maybe he’s right. Maybe I do have a god complex.

“What are you doing here?” He folds his arms across his chest, and I turn to him, reminding myself exactly why I’m here.

“First, I’m here to apologize for how I spoke to you at the dinner,” I say, holding his gaze. “It was wrong, and I should not have come at you like that. If you don’t feel a connection with any of the ladies, it’s not your fault.”

A small smile plays on Jack’s face, but he wipes it away with a shrug. “I guess I owe you an apology, too. I went off as well. I should not have. You’re trying your best. Thank you, Mia.”

The tension between us is still thick, but after the apology, I can’t help but feel a little lighter. Jack’s words linger in the air, and even though I’m still not entirely sure where we stand, I’m determined to push through.

I let out a small giggle, trying to shake off the awkwardness. “Okay, now that we’ve got that out of the way, let’s talk about your next date,” I say, walking toward him. “You can’t avoid that, can you?”

Jack leans back against the table, casually crossing his arms, but I can see the flicker of interest in his eyes. I know he’s not thrilled about this process, but I also know it’s something he feels he has to go along with. It’s what he promised.

I pull out the pink envelope where I’ve drafted everything about his next date and then hand it to him. He takes it from me, but doesn’t open it. At this point, I’m not even surprised.

I pull out my notes, flipping to the page I’ve been working on for his next date.

“Your next date will be with Hayley Bentworth. She’s the owner of a fashion line who lives in Bardstown but travels around the country for her business.

She’s rich, successful, and, honestly, exactly who you might be interested in,” I tell him, watching his reaction closely.

He shrugs. “Okay.”

I continue, determined to stick to the plan. “After your date with Hayley, we’ll pick out the two women you’re most interested in, and then we’ll set up a second date with them to see which one works out.”

Jack shrugs again, his tone casual. “I mean, you can start by taking them all out. It’ll be easier that way.”

I feel my patience slipping, but after my apology, I keep my cool. “No, Jack,” I say firmly. “That won’t happen. Your next date is on Friday, Hayley will be available then. So that’s when it’s happening.”

Jack tilts his head slightly, studying me. “Friday, huh?” His expression is a mix of amusement and skepticism. “That won’t be possible. I already have an appointment that day.”

I stare at him, narrowing my eyes. “Are you kidding me right now? You’re seriously backing out of this again?”

He shrugs, not seeming to care that I’m visibly upset. “I’m not backing out. I just have a dinner appointment with someone else.”

I blink, trying to process his words. He has a dinner appointment with someone. That’s like a date. With who? One of the many flings? I’m out here breaking my back to rebuild his reputation, and he’s just skidding around talking to his old girlfriends and planning dinner with them? My blood boils.

“A dinner appointment? Really?” I feel my voice rising, the frustration bubbling up in my chest. “Is this one of your many ‘appointments’ with your flings?”

His expression doesn’t shift, but I can see the flicker of annoyance in his eyes. He’s not even denying it. And that’s what stings the most. “It’s not your business, Mia. I have a dinner appointment in L.A. on Friday, and that’s all you need to know.”

He pushes away from the table and takes off his apron. “So you go ahead and reschedule this date with Hayley, or it won’t happen.”

I feel my fists clench as I force myself to stay calm. “You can’t escape the date,” I snap, my voice sharper than I intended. “I’ll call Hayley and see what I can do to reschedule.”

Jack looks at me for a moment, and then that cocky smile creeps across his face. It’s not a good one, not a sincere one. It’s like he’s pleased by my frustration. “Thank you, Mia,” he says, his tone too nonchalant. “Is that all?”

My stomach tightens. “Yes.”

“Then you should leave. I have a lot to do.”

The words hang in the air, and I freeze. I stare at him, trying to process what just happened. Did he really just tell me to leave? To get out? Since when does Jack treat me like this?

I try to swallow the lump in my throat, but the hurt is too real. He’s never been this cold with me before. Not once. Sure, he’s distant, but this… this feels different. This feels like he doesn’t care at all.

I stand there for a second, looking at him, wondering if I should say something else, anything to make this situation feel less hurtful. But I don’t. There’s no point.

So, I turn on my heel, not looking back, and head out the door. His words echo in my head, but I push them down. I can’t let him affect me like this. Not anymore.

But dang it, I can’t help feeling like a fool.

I head to my car, the cool breeze brushing against my arms, but it does nothing to calm the heat rising in my chest.

A dinner appointment in L.A.

With who?

I try not to let my mind go there, but it’s impossible.

All the women from his past start blurring together in my head—every actress, model, influencer, and perfect-haired socialite.

Is it one of them? Is he just slipping back into the version of himself that is seen with different women every night?

Or was I blind to the fact that he never changed and has been this way all along?

Maybe that’s why he’s not interested in any of these women. Maybe he was just putting on a show.

God, I hate this feeling. This tight, uncomfortable knot in my stomach that makes me feel… possessive. Jealous. Stupid.

When I reach my car and sit behind the wheel, I open my calendar, staring at the neatly blocked-out slot for Friday’s date with Hayley Bentworth.

Hayley freaking Bentworth.

It took weeks to coordinate that date. Hayley’s schedule is madness—runway shows, store openings, PR interviews. The woman barely has time to breathe, let alone move her life around because Jack suddenly has a “dinner appointment.”

Of all the women I’ve introduced to Jack, she’s the closest to his line of work. I decided to go for her, hoping they would have a lot more in common and maybe he’ll finally pick someone. But it looks like this date might not happen.

I should call her now. Let her know the date needs to be shifted. But I don’t move.

Instead, I sit there with my thumb hovering over her name, swallowing the knot in my throat. I should be furious about the scheduling conflict, the lack of professionalism, the way this entire project is teetering on Jack’s mood swings. But all I can think about is his dinner date on Friday.

I shut my eyes, the pain flaring behind my ribs. When did it start mattering this much? When did his cold shoulder start to feel like a punishment?

Hi Hayley, something urgent’s come up with Jack’s schedule. Could we possibly reschedule Friday’s dinner for early next week? I know your calendar is tight, so let me know what’s workable. I appreciate you! – Mia

I hit send before I can overthink it. She’ll probably be annoyed. She should be. And honestly, I don’t blame her.

I toss the phone in the passenger seat and start the car, but I don’t drive yet. I just sit there, staring at the windshield like it holds answers I can’t seem to find anywhere else.

Who’s he having dinner with?

Why didn’t he just say it outright?

And why does it hurt?

H ayley calls me two days later.

The morning sun cuts through the mist over the street as I coast down toward the shop, coffee in one hand, my mind still tangled in the past two days.

My phone rings through the car’s Bluetooth, jolting me out of the loop in my head. The name flashes on the dash: Hayley Bentworth.

I fumble the coffee into the cupholder and tap the screen, infusing a lot of enthusiasm into my voice.

“Hayley! Hey!”

“Hi, Mia,” she says with a small laugh. “I’m so sorry I’ve delayed in reaching back to you. I did see your text, meant to call you earlier, but it’s been chaos over here.”

“No worries,” I say quickly, even though my pulse kicks up. “I just didn’t want to leave you hanging.”

“Honestly?” she says with another short laugh, “I was relieved. I was going to call you to cancel. Something urgent came up with production—I’m stuck in L.A. for the next few weeks. I can’t make it out to Bardstown until maybe… next month?”

I blink. “Wait. You’re in L.A. now?”

“Yep. Since last week. I’ll be here through the end of the month unless something changes.”

My mind snaps into motion. Friday. Jack mentioned dinner in L.A. Friday.

I straighten in my seat. “Well… that might actually work.”