Chapter 4
FOUR
HANNAH
I’m staying in a split-level Airbnb that’s set up for ski season, but it’s empty now that it’s spring.
There’s a futon, a wood stove, and a view of a blue mountain range that I keep trying to find inspiring.
I kick off my shoes and settle onto the futon with my tablet and portfolio, pages spread out like cards.
My notes from the first Sagebrush interviews are in my own shorthand—arrows, smileys, and colored highlights.
Ms. Winslow from junior year French would be horrified.
I check my list against last night’s notes.
Rhett’s form is the most complete, but it’s full of contradictions.
He likes people who “don’t take themselves too seriously,” but also “aren’t flaky” and “know how to run a fence line.” He wants warmth but can’t stand anything too sentimental.
He’s charming, but I can see there’s more beneath the surface.
Next is Cotton Mercer, who’s a bit of a wild card, but his early personality signs look good.
Rhett described him as socially awkward, talkative, and extremely loyal, so he probably needs someone patient and maybe a bit nerdy.
I move a few profiles into his folder, color-code them, and write down possible matches.
I enjoy this first round of sorting. My algorithm is fast and efficient, but I always trust my instincts first.
I open Garth Voss’s profile. His handwriting is neat, which is rare for men his age.
“Sheep rancher. Sheriff. Volunteers with Willa’s animal rescue.
That’s definitely a plus.” Rhett’s tip about him seemed important, and I already see three strong leads, including one local.
The numbers look promising. I don’t smile, but I feel a sense of potential.
Cody is the outlier. He didn’t give an address or a confirmed cell number, but the intake report says he checks his mailbox every Thursday.
For “Describe your ideal partner,” he wrote: “Don’t need one.
” I run my thumb along the corner of his sheet, thinking it over.
Even the toughest cases want something. I’m pretty sure he only participated as a favor to Rhett.
I stack the folders, label the top one “Project: Sagebrush,” and set it on the coffee table.
I put everything else back in my bag, except Rhett Calder’s form, which I keep out a moment longer.
I read his answers again, line by line, looking for hidden meaning.
There isn’t much. He’s honest in a way I’m not used to.
He’s easy to like. That’s not the issue.
I can tell he’s used to being liked. Even the way he points out his own flaws, half-joking and self-aware, is meant to make people accept him.
But I know when someone is all surface, and when that surface is a shield.
Rhett’s shields are strong and automatic, but not impossible to get through.
That makes him interesting, even if he’s hiding something behind the “aw shucks” attitude.
For a moment, I wonder what I would have said if the questions were for me. If someone asked about my own dealbreakers and what I really want. I know my answers by heart. But I also know that sometimes we don’t know what we want until we find it.
My job is not to get involved with my clients.
That’s in the contract and a rule I set for myself.
When his arm brushed mine as he opened the coffee shop door, I noticed it, then pushed it aside.
I’m here to build something, not to get distracted by the idea of a slow-burn romance, no matter how tempting.
My tablet dings with an automated follow-up from my Denver office, but I ignore it. I open the Sagebrush map on my phone and choose three addresses for tomorrow morning. My finger pauses over “Mercer Ranch,” but I pick Garth’s place out east first, then Cotton, and save Rhett for last.
I send them all the same text: interview confirmation, my availability, and the business name Willa and Sela convinced me to use. Cowboy Cupid. I still can’t decide if it’s embarrassing or just right.
Within ten minutes, I get two replies: “Sure” and “Anytime.” The third is a GIF of a screaming goat. I take that as a good sign.
Outside, the sun is already low in the sky, painting the grass in long bands of light. I have three days left on my rental, but I’m already thinking about staying longer.
This could work. Not just the job, but the place itself. I can picture myself here, if the situation is right.
I stack my files, finish my checklist, and head out to walk the length of Main Street before sunset. As I leave, I catch my reflection in the glass. For a moment, I almost look confident.
If I stay in Sagebrush County, it won’t be because of a man. I’m here to build something for myself. That’s the only match that matters to me.