Epilogue
HANNAH: ONE YEAR LATER
I sweep the front mat, check the fresh flowers in the window vase, and stack the week’s intake forms in a tidy column along the scarred front desk.
The walls are lined with posters—smiling wedding parties, bouquets larger than small children, and three separate couples who credit their very existence to “the Hannah Effect.” My assistant, Minnie, started it as a joke, but now she’s practically keeping the local print shop afloat.
Minnie comes down from the upstairs apartment in a flurry: hair in a lopsided ponytail, buttons misaligned, holding a mug of coffee like a lifeline. She’s a morning person in the same way I’m a champion bull rider—passable, if you squint, but not fooling anyone.
“You’re up early,” she says, eyes half-closed as she rummages the desk for forms.
“I’m on a hot streak. Four out of the last five first dates are going long,” I report. “Two even called for second appointments.”
She gives me a crooked grin. “If you get one more engagement this quarter, we’re officially outpacing franchise operations. I did the math.”
I would hug her if she didn’t look like a startled owl. Instead, I settle for, “You’re the reason they stick.”
“Nah. I’m just the wingwoman. You’re the real Cupid. I mean, it’s literally in the name.”
We get to work. I handle the new clients: a retired line cook in desperate need of a co-pilot, a transplant artist from Santa Fe, the local veterinarian’s newly single cousin who cringes every time I mention ‘speed-dating.’ Minnie works logistics, calendar Tetris, and fielding calls from the dozen or so pairs teetering on the edge of true love or mutual ghosting.
By lunch, my head’s buzzing with case files and nervous first-date jitters that aren’t even mine. I stand at the window and watch the heat rise off the empty street when I see him—Rhett, boots and all, carrying a brown bag lunch like a prize cow at a county fair.
He opens the door with his hip, flashes a crooked smile, and says, “Didn’t want you to forget to eat, Mrs. Calder.”
I never do, but he always brings something anyway. He’s still got straw in his hair from the ranch, and his forearms are tanned and cut from a summer’s worth of fence repair.
I take the bag, lean across the desk, and kiss him. He still blushes, even now.
He says, “The mayor stopped by the ranch. Said he’s got a niece who just moved here from Houston, and she’s looking for a ‘serious upgrade from urban cattle.’ His words, not mine.”
I grin, shake my head. “You’re my best recruiter, you know.”
“I’d do anything for my girl,” he says, and wraps me in a tight hug, lifting me off the ground like I weigh nothing.
Minnie cackles, loud and delighted. “Get a room, you two!”
Rhett winks at her. “Was just about to. Thanks for holding down the fort, kid.”
Then, still holding me, he carries me through the office, out onto the blinding sidewalk, and straight to the shaded porch next door. He puts me down and kisses the top of my head.
“We’re having lunch together,” he insists. “Doctor’s orders.”
I unwrap the sandwich. There’s a note scrawled on the napkin: You’re the best thing I ever lassoed. – R.
I roll my eyes, laugh, and grab his hand. He presses his thumb against my wedding ring, just a tiny gesture, but every time he does it feels like the first.
Around us, Sagebrush hums along: kids shrieking at the park, the postman whistling, the low rumble of a distant storm over the ridge. It’s all so normal, so good, I can’t help but think: this is what I wanted, all along.
Business is booming, love is contagious, and life tastes like iced tea and the promise of something new. Rhett squeezes my hand, eyes squinting in the sun. “You happy, city girl?”
I look at him, the mountains, the shimmer of summer outstretched beyond our little sidewalk café, and say, “Yeah. I really, really am.”
THE END
Follow up The Cowboy’s Match with The Cowboy’s Temptation!
The Cowboy’s Temptation
She’s everything he can’t stand.
He’s everything she can’t ignore.
Cotton Mercer likes his life simple—his ranch, his routine, and zero complications.
Sela is the opposite of simple.
She’s sharp, stubborn, and used to getting her way—and from the moment she steps into Sagebrush, she gets under his skin in all the wrong ways.
And all the right ones.
The tension between them is instant. The arguments are constant. And staying away from each other?
Not happening.
Sela knows better than to want a man like Cotton—too rough, too stubborn, too rooted in a life she was never meant to be part of.
But Cotton Mercer doesn’t play games.
And once he gives in to temptation…
He doesn’t let go.