Page 5 of Sealing the Deal

Then there’s Mama. She single-handedly raised Dylan, Jake, and Chase after their dad, Harry, died in a horse accident when they were kids. She became their agent the minute the college scouts came knocking, making sure they got the best sponsorship deals and contracts.

“We’re not your only sources, though,” Jake replies. “I seem to remember you being the first to know the new owner was a New Yorker.”

I draw an imaginary zip over my lips and smile, remembering the conversation I overheard between two drunk lawyers in The Hay Barn last month, talking about the mysterious new owner whose name has been kept top secret.

I still can’t believe the Huberts agreed to sell after keeping the team family-owned all this time. After Larry Hubert started the Stormhawks in the fifties, his son Donald Hubert took over. Don’s daughter, Margaret, and his grandson, Donald Junior, had been running things alongside Don Senior before the sale. Three generations of a Denver family, who know this city and the team as well as they know themselves. I knew they were making some regular budget cuts, but tightening their belts is a long way from selling a majority share.

Especially to a stranger. A businessman. A New Yorker. It’s not just his name we don’t know. It’s his intentions. The Stormhawks are the beating heart of Denver, and it feels like the whole city has been holding its breath since the first rumors of a sale started. The fear of what will happen to the team has bled into everything, including our game play.

If we’ve got a chance in hell of making it past the first round of the playoffs, what we need right now isn’t disruption or secrecy. It’s stability.

THREE

FLIC

Jake and I pass the drive chatting easily about football and our chances in the playoffs and, just over thirty minutes later, he takes the track straight off the highway that leads to Oakwood Ranch. Buck leaps up the second the wheels leave the smooth asphalt, tail wagging, panting in excitement.

Before the ranch house even comes into view, I catch sight of the brown craggy foothills that border the land and, beyond those, the distant snow-covered Rocky Mountains. We pass the tall spruce trees where there’s a hidden lake that I’ve swum in every summer for as long as I can remember.

Then the paddocks come into view—lush green grass, glittering with frost in the sunlight. Jake pulls to a stop in the big driveway beside the old, solid ranch house with its wraparound porch. The house overlooks the red barn with the storeroom and horse stalls where Dylan and Izzy keep their horses. The doors to the barn sit wide open, and I already know that’s where I’ll find Izzy.

Beyond the paddocks, hidden from view, is the new training ring Dylan installed to train the foals before they’re ready to sell at the rodeo auctions. And right at the back, before the land becomes scrub and foothills, is the football field Mama built when the boys started to live and breathe football, giving them a space to channel their energy after Harry died.

Jake kills the engine and we both draw in deep breaths, allowing the calm of the ranch to take hold of us. Like always, my mind is thrown back to the hundreds of weekends I spent here growing up, after Harry Sullivan took pity on the little kid collecting glasses and falling asleep in the booths at the bar. He and Mama welcomed me in like I was just as much a Sullivan as Dylan, Jake, and Chase.

Harry’s kindness changed everything. I learned to ride horses here. Learned what family looked like here. Snuck cookies from Mama’s kitchen and played endless games of truth and dare with Dylan, Jake, and Chase. Most weekends, Chase’s childhood best friend, Serena, was with us, too. I lived for those days.

Even after Harry died when I was nine, Mama insisted I still stayed every weekend. I helped her with Chase, and tried to support Dylan and Jake, too. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to repay the kindness this family has shown me.

I throw open the truck door and Buck bounds out first. He races across the drive toward the barn, and a second later, just as I suspected, Izzy appears in the doorway. She strides toward me, a bucket of water in one hand, dark blonde braid swinging over her shoulder, her belly rounded and straining against one of Dylan’s red flannel shirts. A second later, Dylan steps out behind her.

In seconds, I’m racing to her, pulling her into a hug. Izzy Brooks—now Izzy Sullivan—has been my best friend since we met at a rodeo competition years back. She was there to check out a horse, and I was running the rodeo’s bar. She’s sharp-tongued, takes no shit. The kind of friend I could call in the middle of the night and ask to bring shovels, and she’d be there, no questions asked.

Izzy had her daughter, Madison, at nineteen and became a single mom after her whirlwind marriage to country singer Hooper Greene fell apart when Mad was only a few months old. She moved in with her grandaddy and worked on his ranch, fifty miles east of Denver.

“You’ve got so big.” I grin.

Izzy rolls her eyes as she pats her stomach. “Still two months to go.”

I move from Izzy to Dylan, hugging him just as tight. He’s still built like he could single-handedly take on any team in the NFL, but now sports a thick, dark beard and a cowboy hat. When Dylan’s football career ended, and he bought Izzy’s grandaddy’s horses, Izzy was thrown into the deal to help Dylan with the ranch. I didn’t think anything could knock the grump out of Dylan, but being a rancher, a stepdad, and a husband suits him.

“Where’s Chase?” I ask as I step back. “I may have been a bit harsh to him at the bar last night.” I wince, remembering how I caught him sulking in the corner early in the celebrations.

Dylan laughs, the sound deep and low and still a little unfamiliar after years of nothing but scowl. “Glad to hear it. What did you tell him?”

“Something about him needing to get his shit together if he didn’t want to lose Serena,” I reply, thinking of the fake-dating plan the pair cooked up at the start of the season after Chase became Denver’s most eligible bachelor and Serena landed herself with an ex who wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Izzy moves to slide her arm around Dylan’s waist. “Well, considering Chase dragged us all out at sunrise to help him with his ‘show Serena I really love her’ gesture of finally buying some furniture for his house to make it feel like home, whatever you said worked.”

Jake’s smile widens. “Pretty sure we won’t be seeing either of them today then.”

“Took them long enough to admit they’re disgustingly perfect for each other,” I say with a warmth in my chest.

“Damn straight,” Jake replies.

I draw in another long breath of cold, fresh air. Everything feels right in the world when I’m here. Movement from the back door of the ranch house has us all turning to find Mama standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips. Her silver-blonde hair is cut to her chin and pinned away from her face in the same style she’s worn since I’ve known her. She’s barely five feet tall but commands every inch of space around her.

“You all gonna stand out there in the cold all morning, or are you coming in to eat the cake I made?”