Page 69 of Sealing the Deal

We’re silent for a moment. Then I whisper a quiet “Thank you.”

He brushes a strand of my hair away from my cheek, fingers grazing my skin. “For what?”

“For offering me this deal,” I reply. “I did it for my bar and for the Sullivans and for the fans, too. But I’m having the best time.”

His answer is immediate. “Me too.”

The words hang between us. I feel myself leaning toward him, wanting his warmth, his touch, the friction.

By the time we land, Mad is still asleep, a heavy weight warm in my arms as I carry her down the steps to Mama’s truck. She stirs a little, whispering a “thank you” as we buckle her in. Then Mama wraps me in a fierce hug, kissing my cheek. “Do you remember what Harry used to say?”

“Quit bothering Mama when she’s trying to cook?” I grin.

Mama laughs softly. “Well, yes, that, but also, don’t ever turn away from a chance for joy.” Mama’s hand squeezes mine and she nods across the parking lot. I follow her gaze to where Grayson stands by the open car, waiting for me. I don’t know where Donny and Helena disappeared to. I don’t care. I say a final goodbye to Mama and grin as I walk toward him, my pulse racing in a way that has nothing to do with the win and everything to do with this man.

Inside the car, Grayson’s hand moves casually to rest on my thigh. He continues to look straight ahead, and without a word, his fingers walk higher, closer to my aching center. Every brush of his fingers through the denim lights my body on fire. I’m acutely aware of Hunter in the front seat. I don’t care where he’s taking us. My place or Grayson’s hotel suite. As long as we get there fast.

I turn toward Grayson, a playful rebuke already on my lips about our onetime deal, knowing it’s going to land like a challenge even though I want this, too.

Then his phone buzzes.

“Sorry,” he says, pulling away from me. The air shifts instantly as he sees something on the screen. “I have to take this.”

My body feels cold without his touch on my thigh. I stare out the window as I hear only his side of another business call.

“What’s going on?” A pause. “And they’re doing this on a Sunday when the city council offices are closed?” His tone is edged with restrained anger. “We need to get this in front of a judge tonight.” Silence. Then his tone sharpens again: “I’m well aware. Get the whole team on this now. I’m going to make some calls. Be ready with paperwork in an hour.”

He ends the call and is already dialing again. The heat drains from my belly, replaced by the ache of disappointment. I don’t know what new emergency Grayson is fielding, but I do know he’s lost to it. And I’m now pushed into the background. I grit my teeth, trying hard not to mind. This is who Grayson is. He’s a man who wants to do good in the world. Who feels the need to walk into every battle alone. And I said I would never ask him to change.

“Hunter,” I say quietly, “would you mind dropping me at The Hay Barn, please?”

“Of course,” he replies.

Ten minutes later, Grayson shoots me a pleading look of apology as he talks to a judge’s clerk. I mouth, “It’s fine,” still pretending it is, and climb out.

I step into the bar to find Sonia cleaning up, the last stragglers on their way out. We catch up for a while, then I thank her and tell her to head home. She doesn’t argue, and I don’t blame her. I know how tiring a long game day shift can be.

When I’m alone in my bar, I close the shutters on the windows and flip stools onto tables, setting up for tomorrow’s floor clean. I think about Grayson and why we can’t work. His world is too big. Too crowded. There’s no space for me.

I get it. I’ve stayed single for years because anyone I met would’ve come second to the bar. It’s the same for Grayson and his business interests. However much it stings, I’m not surprised. I knew his world would pull him away from me eventually. I’d just hoped it wouldn’t happen till after the playoffs.

I look around my bar. It’s already spotless. Glasses gleaming behind the counter, fridges stocked, the money in the safe in the back. It’s proof that I don’t have to run this place alone, and maybe that’s why I’m conflicted right now.

Maybe it’s less to do with Grayson and more to do with me and my bar and my future. Because however much I told Mama I couldn’t wait to get back to running the bar full-time, however much I’ve tried to convince myself that’s all I want, there’s a small, nagging voice that won’t shut up. A voice that whispers how much I’ve enjoyed watching the games and joining Grayson in meetings. A voice that’s asking what happens if this bar isn’t enough anymore.

I will always love The Hay Barn. I don’t want to give it up. But I’m not sure I want it to be all I have, either. I might not be a billionaire with a boardroom full of advisers, but I have a good head for business. I’ve kept The Hay Barn alive through rent hikes and staffing shortages and years that would’ve broken a weaker person. I understand people. I understand loyalty and optics and when to push and when to wait. And being beside Grayson in meetings, watching him take my input seriously, I’m starting to realize I have more to give than I ever let myself believe.

With only a week left on my deal with Grayson, it’s getting harder to ignore everything that’s spinning in my head and what, if anything, I’m going to do about it at the end of the season. I’m lost in my thoughts when the door opens. I turn and see Grayson in the doorway. It’s only been an hour since I left him, but he looks exhausted, like he’s just come back from a fight he didn’t win.

“I’m sorry.” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “There was an urgent issue with the East Harlem redevelopment project. A stop-work order came through tonight from the city council. We had everything cleared and scheduled for tomorrow morning with the utility companies. If I hadn’t fixed it, it would’ve meant hundreds of people without electricity or running water for a week.”

“That’s awful,” I say immediately. “They can’t⁠—”

“They can.” He sighs. “But it was a bullshit order, anyway. My team follow every regulation to the letter. I got the stop-work order in front of a judge half an hour ago and he threw it out.”

“Does this have anything to do with your father?”

He nods. “I think so. I’ve ignored his requests for a meeting over the last week. This was his way of reminding me not to continue ignoring him.”