Page 16 of Sealing the Deal

We traipse in, and Dylan shoos Izzy away from the kitchen, telling her in his best growly voice, “You’re seven months pregnant. Sit down, woman. I’ve got this.”

She rolls her eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at her lips as she lowers herself onto the bench beside me and lets Dylan make coffee and fix a snack for Madison, who takes it with a breezy, “Thanks,” before dashing outside to greet the horses and play with Buck.

I wait until Dylan joins us before I start. “Thanks for coming, everyone. I’m obviously freaking out about Grayson’s offer.”

Jake nods. “The man can’t buy your bar then click his fingers like you’re on his payroll, Flic.”

“But what do I do about it? Because it feels like the Stormhawks got handed a death sentence when Ashborne Holdings or Grayson Global—whatever they’re calling themselves now—bought the team. And yeah, I could post all over my socials saying what a dick this guy is, but how does that help the Stormhawks? The first playoff game is Saturday. I don’t want to make it harder for you guys to play.”

Then the room sparks to life, and everyone is talking at once.

Dylan’s voice is fierce. “You’re not thinking of doing this, though, right? You can’t trust him, Flic. He’s playing you.” His gaze finds mine, all steel.

Chase blows out a long exhale. “I’ll admit it’s a smart move asking you for help, but the way he’s gone about it is all kinds of wrong.”

“We can publicly shame him for this,” Harper adds. “Not just on your fans page, but in the media, too. I can pitch an article to my editor about his underhanded tactics in trying to buy the fans.”

“He shouldn’t get away with this,” Serena says, tears glistening in her eyes as she leans closer to Chase.

Izzy is the only one not scowling or talking. Instead, she’s staring at me like I’m one of her horses and she’s trying to figure me out.

“But…” she says, and the table falls silent. “You’d get to own the building for the bar, right?”

I nod. “But only if I agree to help him win over the fans during the playoffs. And I’m not doing that. My only question is whether I speak out about his offer or stay quiet.”

“Exactly. It’s not like you can trust someone like him to stick to his word,” Dylan adds.

Izzy doesn’t blink. “I know. I get all that. But maybe you should consider it. Owning the building to The Hay Barn is what you’ve always wanted, Flic. No more rent hikes, no more inspections. You’d own your bar. If you got the deal in writing⁠—”

“At what cost?” I cut in, because of course Izzy has seen straight through my resolve, repeating almost word for word my own thoughts from earlier. “I don’t think I can live with myself if I help a man like that. I’d be selling out the fans.”

Izzy shakes her head. “The way I see it, a man like Grayson Ashborne is going to do whatever he wants with the Stormhawks regardless, right?”

We all nod, and Izzy continues: “But if you agree, it isn’t just him you’re helping.”

“Yeah, it’s me,” I shoot back. “And I don’t feel good about that.”

“Not just you,” she replies. “You could help the fans and the team.”

“How do you mean?” Jake asks before I can. He slips his hand into Harper’s, and they share a worried look.

“Think about it,” Izzy says. “If Flic agrees to do this, she’ll have access to Grayson Ashborne in a way no one else would. You could show him what the Stormhawks mean to Denver. You might even convince him to keep things as they are. Make him fall in love with the team.”

“Pretty sure the only thing that guy loves is money,” Jake says.

But my heart fills for Izzy, with her fierce, pitchfork wielding, loyalty. She isn’t thinking about Grayson and his audacity; she’s thinking of me and the Stormhawks. I saw blackmail. She sees an opportunity. But could I really do it?

“I pour drinks and break up bar fights, Izzy. That’s the extent of my diplomacy.”

Chase shakes his head. “I’ve watched you convince a table of hardened drinkers to go home to their wives instead of ordering another round. I’m not saying you should, but if you wanted to do this, you could.”

Dylan agrees. “One look from you and those men practically apologized to the furniture on their way out. That’s a skill, Flic. But I still think someone like Grayson Ashborne will use you. I don’t want you to get burned.”

Their voices fade to a hum as my thoughts spin. I hate the idea of accepting Grayson’s offer and giving him exactly what he wants. But this might be my only chance to secure my bar forever.

However much I scrimp and save and cut costs wherever I can, I’m barely surviving right now. And the truth I’ve been dodging like last call is that it isn’t just another rent hike that could finish me, it’s time. I’ve only got a few months left before the bills finally catch up and take me out. But if I owned the building, I could use the money I save on rent to hire more staff and run The Hay Barn how it should be run. I could stop feeling like I’m juggling ten fireballs while walking a tightrope without a safety net.

I let Izzy’s words land a little harder. Could I really show Grayson what the Stormhawks mean to this city? Make a man who manipulates and schemes for a living understand loyalty? Hope feels dangerous, but it sparks anyway. Because then I think about Dylan and Jake and Chase and Mama. About every weekend they gave me a home when I didn’t have one. About how deeply I love this family. If I pull this off, I’m not just saving my bar. I’m helping them, too. Jake and Chase wouldn’t be traded. Dylan could keep supporting the kids who need it through the outreach program. And Denver could keep the team it loves and the players who built it.