Page 64 of Sealing the Deal

Izzy and Harper cheer before Harper throws her arms around me.

“What was that for?” I laugh.

Harper winks. “It was a welcome to the ‘really hot sex’ club.”

I shake my head. “There’s not a club.”

Izzy nods. “There is. We keep it a secret because you don’t know what really hot sex is until you have it, and now you have and you’re in the club.”

“What do we do in the club?” I laugh.

“Have really hot sex, obviously.” Harper replies with a grin. “And act smug.”

“Got it,” I reply, laughing again.

“So,” Izzy says, dragging out the word. “If it was that good, why is it a onetime thing?”

I start walking again, needing to move. Needing to avoid Izzy and Harper’s knowing looks. “Because we make no sense together and we’re both stubborn as hell. He wants to fix everyone and everything, and I’m fine on my own.” I wave my hands out to the world. “He’s got New York and a global business and an NFL team. I run a fans bar in Denver.”

“I get all that,” Izzy replies. “But he’s staying in Denver for a while, right?”

“Until after the playoffs. Once the season is over and the sponsors are happy, I think he’ll spend less time here.”

“You think?” Harper says. “But you haven’t talked about it.”

“I’m not going to ask him to stay for me, if that’s what you’re saying.” There’s a fierceness in my tone I don’t mean to put on my friends. “Sorry, it’s just, I would never want anyone to change for me. And I would never want to change for anyone else.”

I bite my lip. “Football isn’t his passion the way his redevelopment projects are. And even if it were, his father’s company still needs him in New York.” I say it like it’s a fact. It’s sensible. It’s a choice we’ve already made. I try to ignore the quiet, unwelcome ache in my chest that has nothing to do with logic and everything to do with a future I’m so certain can’t exist.

Izzy studies me. “OK. Still not hearing the part where it has to be one time.”

I blow out a long breath. “Because when have I ever had something casual? Or easy?”

She smiles gently. “Never. And that’s my point. You’ve lived and breathed The Hay Barn for as long as I’ve known you. But you’re not doing that right now, are you?”

I don’t answer.

“So maybe,” Harper adds, “you try something new. If there’s a natural expiration date on you and Grayson, why not enjoy it while it lasts?”

I say nothing. There’s another reason, hovering right there, begging to be said. I almost tell her. Almost admit that even one night with Grayson cracked something open in me. That I think about him constantly. That I want to talk to him all the time. That the idea of another week—or a month—feels both intoxicating and terrifying.

Izzy bumps her shoulder into mine. “You have trouble letting people in. I get it. But it’s OK to widen your circle sometimes.”

We walk in companionable silence until the trees thin and the land opens out at the top paddocks.

Mia is already mounted when we reach the fence, sitting tall and relaxed astride Fury. The big black stallion moves beneath her with a controlled power which is nothing short of awe-inspiring. Fury is sleek and muscular, his coat so dark it almost looks blue-black in the winter light. Steam leaves his nostrils as he tosses his head, ears flicking, alert but calm.

“She looks good up there,” Harper says.

Fury isn’t the only one who used to barrel race. Back when we were in high school, Mia used to compete, too. And even though she now runs her mom’s media empire, she looks comfortable in the saddle. She shifts her weight subtly, hands light on the reins, talking to Fury in a low murmur as he moves from a walk into a trot and then a canter around the paddock.

“I knew he’d take Mia,” Izzy whispers, as awestruck as I am.

After a few laps, Mia sees us watching and slows Fury to a trot, steering him closer.

“You look amazing out there, Mia!” Izzy calls.

“I can’t remember the last time I had this much fun,” she says, laughing. “Beats the office, that’s for sure.”