Page 146 of Forty, Flirty & Fall Inn

I close my eyes, one hand on goat fur, and wait for Sage to come home.

Outside, the rain finally stops.

I choose to take it as a sign.

27

RETURN OF THE GOAT-I

SAGE

It's 3:17 AM on what's technically Friday morning, and I'm pulling into the Cascade View Inn's parking lot running on approximately three hours of sleep, hospital coffee that tasted like despair, and the emotional high of watching my nephew enter the world screaming like he's already got opinions about everything.

The November night has finally stopped its torrential downpour, leaving everything glittering and clean and smelling like earth and hope and pine.

Or maybe that's just the baby smell still clinging to my clothes.

James David Hill.

Seven pounds-eight ounces of pure perfection, already has his father's serious expression and his mother's ability to get what he wants through volume alone.

"Welcome to the family, kiddo," I mutter, gathering my things."We're all disasters, but we love hard."

The inn is dark except for the porch lights, which is weird because I definitely turned those off before leaving.

Probably Mira, worried about me coming home to darkness.

Sometimes I don't deserve my staff.

I unlock the front door, expecting the usual greeting of silence and the lingering scent of whatever Buttercup destroyed last.

Instead, I'm hit with...warmth?

What the hell?

The fireplace is crackling softly, casting dancing shadows across the lobby.

And there, on the registration desk, is my laptop.

Open.Glowing.

"What in the world?”

I drop my purse, approach cautiously like the laptop might explode.Which, given my track record with technology and feelings, isn't impossible.

The screen shows SecureMatch.

My profile.

But something's...different.

Where my matches should be, there's just one.A single profile labeled "New Match!"with a timestamp of 2:47 AM.

My heart does a back-flip in my chest as I click on it.

Instead of a profile, there's a message.

Match found: Someone who's been refreshing your profile every hour for two weeks, six days, and approximately eighteen minutes.He’s been trying desperately not to count.