Chapter 34
THIRTY-FOUR
FLIC
“Hey.”
I glance up from my laptop as the door to The Hay Barn swings open and Izzy steps inside, two takeaway coffees in her hands.
“You busy?” she asks.
I close the laptop with a soft click. “I’m supposed to be going over my accounts.”
“Supposed to?”
“I was rewatching Super Bowl clips.”
She snorts. “It’s been two weeks.”
“Yeah.” I grin. “And I’m still celebrating.”
It’s true, in more ways than one. We won.
And our playoff run gave my takings the boost I’d been praying for.
For the first time in months, I can look at my accounts without my pulse spiking.
Owning the building instead of paying rent still feels surreal, but the fear that used to sit heavy in my gut is gone.
Izzy makes her way toward me, and I take her in.
She’s wearing an oversized gray sweatshirt that hangs low over her bump and black leggings stretched tight across legs that look ready to give up at any moment.
Her dark blonde hair is loose, framing her face, but even from here I can see the tiredness in her eyes.
The kind that says sleep is a distant memory.
“If that’s a caramel latte in your hand, I might have to marry you,” I say, stepping around the bar.
She hands me one. “It is. But I’m already taken.”
“Tragic.”
She looks around the bar. “I took a gamble you’d be here. Dylan had an errand in the city, and I fancied a break from the ranch. I haven’t been here for ages. It’s looking good.”
“It is.” I follow her gaze to the polished tables and the new cushions on the booth seats that I ordered last week. The place smells faintly of lemon cleaner and paint instead of the beer and fried food that will come when we open later.
“And it’s yours, right? The building, I mean.”
My grin widens and I nod, thinking of the deeds Grayson gave me the day after the Super Bowl. “All mine.”
Izzy gives a cheer, sliding her coffee onto the bar and giving me a hug. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks,” I reply. “Now, am I allowed to say you’re huge?”
She laughs. “Mad does every day.” She rests a hand on her enormous belly and sighs. “My due date’s still two weeks away. I might just collapse on the couch and wait it out in full beached-whale form.”
“I bet Dylan tells you you’re gorgeous,” I say.
Her smile turns soft. “Yeah. He does.” She snorts. “He’s already talking about more kids.”
“Really?” I lift my brows. “How do you feel about that?”
“More children, yes. Carrying another one after this one?” She makes a face. “I’m not sure. But Dylan’s keen to look into adoption.”
I nod as a warmth spreads through my chest. I think of Chase. Of the way being taken in by the Sullivans at two years old changed the course of his life. It changed my life just spending weekends at the ranch with this family. “I can see that.”
“So, tell me about you,” Izzy says as she eyeballs the barstool. “And don’t look at me while I climb onto this thing. I’m about as graceful as a knocked-over cow.”
I laugh. “We could sit somewhere else.”
“We always sit at the bar,” she says, stubborn as ever, hauling herself up with a dramatic groan. “How are things with Grayson? Your deal is over, but are you…” She trails off.
“Still seeing each other? Yes. Things are good.” I lift my coffee to my lips as my cheeks heat.
Izzy narrows her eyes. “Flic. Look at me. I did not haul this huge belly into the city for ‘good.’ I want details. You know—dragging-him-into-cloakrooms-to-have-your-wicked-way-with-him details.”
I laugh, shaking my head, regretting telling Izzy about the moment at the party.
“Honestly, there’s not much to tell. Our deal is technically over, but we’re spending just as much time together as before.
When Grayson’s in Denver, we’re pretty inseparable.
And he’s still inviting me to management meetings for the Stormhawks and asking my advice. ”
“Smart man,” Izzy replies, eyeing me carefully. “Why do I feel like there’s a ‘but’ coming?”
“Because we haven’t talked about us and what we are. We’re just living in the moment, I guess. Which is great, but there’s still New York. When he’s here, it’s perfect. But he has this whole other life I’m not part of. Every time he leaves, I still worry he won’t come back.”
“But he does,” Izzy says, voice gentle.
I nod. “He’s given up his suite at the hotel.
We spend most of our time in my tiny studio now.
” I picture Grayson falling into my bed at the end of the day, exhausted but always reaching for me.
“But I feel like I’m waiting for the bubble to burst or it all to go wrong.
And…” I pause and shake my head. “It doesn’t matter. ”
“What?” Izzy pushes.
I sigh, rolling my shoulders. “It’s just every now and then he’ll take a call about the Stormhawks and step out of the room. And I think he’s talking to lawyers. And sometimes I catch a look between him and Donny like there’s something they’re not telling me.”
Izzy tilts her head. “What do you think he’s planning?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. But I trust him, Iz. Whatever it is, I know it’s right for the team. He’ll tell me when he’s ready.”
Her smile softens. “I think you more than trust him, Flic. But if you’re worried about the future, talk to him.”
I nod. “I will. Today. He’s just landed back in Denver and is coming here. Sonia’s opening for me tonight.” I let the worries go. Izzy is right. I need to talk to Grayson and tell him how I feel. And I will, but first I have a surprise for him.
Before Izzy can reply, the door swings open and Dylan walks in carrying something bundled in his arms.
“Did you get him?” Izzy asks, sliding from the stool as fast as her size will let her.
“Sure did,” Dylan says, his smile matching hers.
“Get who?” I ask.
He steps closer and the bundle shifts, a blanket slipping just enough for a small yellow head to poke out. A retriever puppy blinks up at us, black eyes bright, silky ears flopping as his tail starts wagging.
I gasp, immediately reaching out to take him. The puppy wriggles happily into my arms, warm and impossibly cute. “Mad is going to be so happy.”
“She is,” Dylan says, grinning like making the women in his life happy is his sole purpose, and he’s delighted by it.
“Got a name yet, little guy?” I ask.
Izzy shakes her head. “Mad’s choice.”
“I’m glad she’s finally over naming everything Princess Sparkly Toes or Prince Glitter Sparkle. I’m a serious rancher now, and this little guy is going to be our ranch dog. I can’t be calling him Prince Spark-A-Lot.”
We all laugh, and after hugs and promises to visit soon, Dylan and Izzy head toward the door.
“Don’t forget to call me when you go into labor,” I shout after them.
“You’ll be the first to know,” Izzy calls back, waving as they disappear.
I watch them go with a smile tugging at my mouth. Dylan and Izzy are actual life goals, but standing here in my bar, with my heart full and Grayson on his way back to me, I’m pretty damn happy right now, too.
Grayson is waiting by the open car door when I shout goodbye to Sonia and step into the cold February air.
We haven’t had fresh snow for a few weeks, but the sky feels heavy with it.
I don’t fight my smile as I throw myself into his arms and press my lips to his.
The kiss is messy and desperate, which is exactly how I feel right now with how much I need this man.
I slide in beside him in the back of the car and, before Hunter has even pulled away from the curb, his hand finds mine across the seats.
“Where are we going?” he asks.
“You’ll see,” I reply, before giving Hunter the address for a hotel downtown.
As the city streets pass by the windows, I sit back and look at Grayson.
Same dark eyes. Same light brown hair. Same expensive clothes and that smug smile he wears like armor.
But now I see more than that. I see the softness in his gaze when he looks at me.
The way his mind is always working two steps ahead to protect the people he cares about.
The team. The city. I think about Izzy’s advice, and promise myself I’ll ask if I’m on that list, too.
But it can wait. Right now, we have somewhere to be.
He squeezes my hand. “How’s the hunt for new staff going?”
“Good,” I say. “I’ve been lucky. It’s mostly going to be putting old staff I trust back on the schedule now I can afford to pay them a decent wage. And Sonia is happy to manage the bar when I need her.”
The nagging doubt wriggles in the pit of my stomach.
I didn’t tell Izzy everything back at the bar.
And I haven’t told Grayson, either. It feels strange—almost embarrassing—to admit it out loud.
For years, The Hay Barn was my whole world.
I poured everything into it. Every hour.
Every dollar. Every ounce of energy I had.
I told myself my world was small because it was perfect.
But now I’m ready for more. I just need to figure out what that is.
And when I do, that’s when I’ll tell Grayson.
He shifts closer, brushing his thumb over my knuckles as we fall into an easy conversation about the upcoming sponsors meetings for the Stormhawks, and twenty minutes later, Hunter slows the car and pulls over at the curb.
“We’re here,” I say, shooting Grayson a grin.
He leans forward slightly, peering out of the window. We’re in one of Denver’s livelier downtown areas, filled with restaurants, bars, and hotels.
On the street, Grayson buttons his coat and turns in a slow circle, taking it all in, before I lead him toward the hotel entrance, past a revolving door and into a lobby, all marble floors and glittering chandeliers.
A grand staircase curves toward a mezzanine level, but instead of heading up, I tug him toward a corridor lined with framed black-and-white photos of old Denver.
“What exactly is this?” he asks quietly, suspicion creeping into his voice.
“You’ll see.”