Only For Forever: An Enemies to Lovers, Small Town Romance (Men of Rocky Mountain)

by Alexis Winter

  “You want to get in a workout tonight? Say around 7?” She flips her hair in a flirty manner.

  “Would love to. I’ll bring dinner.” I glance over my shoulder and the room is empty, so I grab her behind the neck, pulling her toward me as I walk us backward until we hit a wall. I kiss her hard. I let my hands roam her taut body, squeezing her ass as I grind my cock against her. Just as she moans into my mouth, I release her, leaving her panting and heavy-lidded.

  “See you at 7, baby.”

  The entire day, my mind is preoccupied with images of Leigh writhing beneath me—of feeling her nails scratch my back as her thighs squeeze me. I hear my name tumbling from her lips as I thrust into her over and over.

  By the time I make it to Leigh’s house after work, it’s evident that I’m not the only one who’s wound so tightly I’m about to snap. I barely get through the door with takeout when Leigh is in my arms, tearing at my clothes and climbing my body like a tree.

  “That was . . .” she moans, curling into my chest as she runs her fingers through the hair that peppers my pecs.

  “Yeah,” I reply breathlessly. I run my own hand over her hair, kissing the top of her head. She tilts her head back to look at me, smiling softly.

  “I’m falling in love with you.”

  The words are soft as a feather, but they instantly send a shiver through my entire body. I tense and I know she feels it, because her expression goes from soft to concerned in a second. I sit up.

  “Leigh, I . . .” Panic grips me. “I’m not ready.” I don’t know what to say. I look at her and her eyes, which were so full of contentment just a moment ago, are now cold and narrow. I grab her hand. “I’m sorry if I confused you.”

  She jerks her hand away from me. “Confused me? That’s one way of putting it. Then what the hell was all this?” She stands up and grabs a sheet, covering her body.

  “Leigh, you’re amazing and wonderful and I love spending time with you.”

  “But you don’t love me?”

  “No . . . yes . . . that’s not it. I—I just got out of a serious relationship and I’m not ready to jump into a new one just yet. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Grant, it’s been the better part of a year. You can’t keep using that excuse of your last failed relationship. Get over it!” she screams, her face red with anger. “Why then? If you knew you weren’t ready, then why go through all this?” She gestures wildly as tears build.

  “Because I do like you. You’re fun, and then when things happened with the baby—”

  “Don’t.” She points a finger at me, her voice quivering.

  “We needed each other, Leigh.”

  She lets out a bark-sounding laugh. “So what then? We were just in some stupid, obligatory bullshit entanglement? Because I lost the baby?”

  I pull on my clothes, trying to think through how to explain things, but I feel like no matter what I say, it’s not going to help. She’s standing in front of me, gripping the sheet around her body as big teardrops fall down her face yet again.

  “You’re my friend, Leigh. I wanted to be there for you. I needed you to be there for me too. Yes, things started out purely physical between us. Our sexual chemistry was—is—off the charts, but it grew into more. It grew into a very real friendship and I care for you so deeply. I’m just not ready, Leigh. I’m not ready for another relationship right this second.”

  I know I’m pleading with her. I just don’t want her to give up on us because I need more time . . . but it’s written all over her face that her mind is made up.

  “I don’t need any more friends.” She won’t even look at me. Her eyes are fixed on the floor as she speaks flatly. “Please leave.”

  13

  Leigh

  I’m completely frozen in my sheet. The only sounds I hear are Grant’s footsteps across my front room followed by the shutting of the door as he leaves. I stand in the middle of my bedroom, my world collapsing around me all over again. Only this time I’ll pick up the pieces alone.

  I feel the panic in my chest begin to squeeze my lungs. They burn and I shake my head.

  “No, you can’t do this again. You have to be strong,” I tell myself. I have a business to run, classes to teach. I can’t let some asshole ruin my world when his will be just fine.

  I give myself tonight. That’s it.

  Get out the tears, the sadness, and move on from Grant Rossi.

  I pick up my phone, not even bothering to check the time. I pull up my last exchange with August. I type out a message and hit SEND before I can second-guess myself. It’s time I focus on myself and do what I came to this town to do.

  Me: Make the offer on the building.

  Numb.

  That’s the only word to describe how I’m feeling. These last few weeks have been a complete nightmare between losing the baby and finding out I was nothing more than an obligation to Grant.

  “Have you heard from him? Or seen him?” Steph asks as we sip a crisp Riesling in the backyard of my apartment building. The sun is going down and the coolness of the air settles over me. I pull my sweater around me a little tighter.

  “Nope. Hasn’t come to class, hasn’t been to Grand Lake for all I know.” I stare at the small flames dancing in the fire pit.

  “Your poor garden,” Steph says, changing the subject. I look over at it and realize the plants have wilted and several rotten tomatoes now dot the ground.

  “Yeah, waited too late in the season to plant them,” I mutter, pushing away images of Grant and me laughing and kissing when we planted them.

  Happier times.

  “I’m worried about you,” she finally says.

  It took a few days after the debacle with Grant, but I finally reached out to Steph and told her everything. The miscarriage, the breakup . . . can I even call it a breakup? She let me cry on her kitchen floor while she made me cookies.

  I’ve cycled through so many ups and downs, but I vowed I was done wasting tears over a man who only saw me as a fun distraction while he got his life right.

  “Hey, what are you doing this weekend?” I ask her. “Want to go to Boulder with me? Hang at my parents?” I look over at her, ignoring her previous comment. I appreciate her concern, I do, but I just can’t stomach another “heartfelt talk” about my feelings. I just want to go out, dance, get drunk, and do something irresponsible like make out with a hottie on the dance floor.

  “Oh, sweetie, I wish I could, but I’ll actually be out of town myself. Need to head back to Wyoming to take care of something.”

  “No worries, I’m sure my parents will be thrilled to have me all to themselves. I can hear my mom’s prying questions already.” I laugh.

  “Tell them I said ‘hi,’ though. They really are wonderful people.”

  “So tell me something to cheer me up. Met any hot dudes at The Lariat? Ryder made a move yet?”

  She laughs and shakes her head. “No to the hot dudes, since it’s always the same old guys in there. Although Mr. Newsome, that retired police chief who’s like, 345 years old, keeps asking me out.”

  “No Ryder, huh? That’s wild. Given the way he looked at you, I thought for sure he was into you.”

  She just shrugs and takes another sip of her wine. I can tell she gets guarded whenever I bring up Ryder—or any man, for that matter—so I don’t pry.

  “Oh! I can’t believe I forgot to tell you, but they accepted my offer. I got the building!”

  “Holy shit, Leigh! Cheers to that!” She holds her glass up to mine and we clink them together. “So what’s next then? After you close, I mean.”

  “I’ve been putting the word out that I have a studio coming. My soft-launch goal is still several months away. Now I just need to hire the staff and do some renovations. The place is in good shape but I need to get a front area built—desk and cubbies and such—and then finish the locker rooms. The inspector went through and there were only a few things the previous owne
rs will need to fix. I also hired a contractor to go through it and do a deeper inspection. Not cheap but worth the money.”

  “That’s amazing, Leigh. Seriously, I’m so happy for you.” Steph reaches over and squeezes my hand. “And hey, if you need any help or want to hire me, I’m down,” she says with a laugh.

  “What about the bar?” I turn to face her.

  “It was just a temporary gig when I first got to town. The tips are great, but I can’t be a bartender forever.”

  “Well, I’ll keep you in the loop then. Thanks.” I smile back at her before standing up. “Ooh, this wine has gone straight to my head and I have three early classes tomorrow before I drive home to Boulder.”

  I walk Steph to her car and wish her good night.

  “Hey,” she says, opening her car door. “If you do go out in Denver or Boulder, would you just text me please? Someone should know where you are and what you’re up to.”

  I laugh and say I’ll let her know.

  “Oh sweetie, this is such a lovely surprise!” My mom hugs me like she hasn’t seen me in a decade. “What’s the occasion?”

  “Just wanted to stop in and say hi. It’s not like I haven’t been here in years, Mom.”

  “I know, but we just weren’t expecting you.” She ushers me inside as my dad grabs my bag.

  “Well, I wanted to also tell you guys that I bought a building and I’m officially opening my second studio!” I hold up the keys and jingle them.

  My parents have been my biggest cheerleaders since day one—always encouraging me and giving me advice, even when it wasn’t what I wanted to hear.

  “I’m going to text your brother Jason to see if he and Claire want to come over for dinner with the boys,” my mom says, stepping past me to grab her phone from another room.

  I’m talking with my dad when my mom shouts from the other room, “Great news! They’re coming over for dinner tonight!”

  I smile and shake my head at my dad, who just smiles and wraps one arm around my shoulders. “You kids are our entire world, kiddo. You should be used to it by now.”

  Dinner is wonderful. My cheeks hurt from smiling and my belly hurts from laughing so hard.

  My older brother Jason has always been the cut-up of the family. He got in trouble for it a lot in school, but in his career as a high school history teacher, it serves him well. His wife Claire was his high school sweetheart. She runs a day care out of their home, which started out of necessity when she had to quit her job after having twins. She wanted to stay home with Tyler and Cameron, so once the boys were old enough, she, her sister, and their mutual friend started the day care.

  I fill everyone in on the expansion of my studio and plan to go to my main studio in Boulder tomorrow to meet with the team and check on things.

  I end the night chatting with my mom in her reading nook. She asks me about “boys,” as she still likes to say, and I just evade the question. I know that if I tell her about the miscarriage, it will only break her heart. Plus I’m still getting over all of it. Better to just leave that part of my life in the past.

  Me: As promised, I’m telling you that I’m going out. I promise to behave . . . mostly. :)

  Steph: Where are you going? Turn your location services on and share with me pleeeease. Also make sure you text me when you get there and when you get home. You going alone?

  Me: Okay, Mom, I promise. Yes, alone. Just going out for a drink and a dance. Need to feel good about myself again and have some meathead named Derek buy me a drink. Won’t be out too late, I promise.

  I toss my phone in my purse and head downstairs to grab my Uber.

  “You sure your dad can’t drive you, sweetie? He doesn’t mind.”

  “Mom, I’ll be fine. Just heading out for a bit. I promise not to be too late. And as much as I appreciate it, I’m 26 in 33 days, so I don’t need a chaperone.” I give my parents a hug and step outside, sliding into the back of my ride.

  The club is still pretty dead at this hour. I knew it would be, and that’s okay. I’m over the “screaming to hear someone talk while downing $5 you-call-it shots at 2 a.m.”

  I’m halfway through my martini when my phone buzzes on the bar top. I grab it, seeing Grant’s name on the screen. My stomach instantly drops as I slide open the notification.

  Grant: Hey, heard you might be in town. Can we talk please?

  I roll my eyes.

  Me: Steph tell you?

  I’m not annoyed at her. I’m sure he stopped into The Lariat yesterday and it came out over small talk.

  Grant: Where are you? I can meet you.

  Me: I’m good, thanks. Bye now.

  Grant: Stop being petulant, Leigh. We need to talk. Let’s be adults about this.

  That pisses me off. We need to talk? About what? He said his piece. He made it clear he doesn’t want a relationship with me, so what is there to talk about at this point?

  I finish my martini that went straight to my head, the liquid courage flowing straight to my thumbs as I type.

  Me: Fuuuuck offffff

  I smile to myself when I imagine the rage pulsing through his veins when he reads that.

  “Don’t care,” I mutter as I flag down the bartender for another.

  “Can I grab this one?”

  I turn to my right to see a tall, overly-muscular blond guy smiling at me. He looks like he survives on a diet of protein powder and chicken and breathes and sleeps the gym. His neck is as wide as his head and his arms are barely contained in the white Henley that’s stretched taut over his muscles.

  Bingo!

  “Absolutely,” I smile as I extend my hand to him. “Leigh.” I toss my phone in my purse, ignoring any further incoming texts from Grant.

  “Jeff.” He smiles and takes a seat, his tree-trunk thighs about to rip through his skinny jeans.

  If I had to guess, I’d say Jeff is probably 22, max. Nothing wrong with a younger man. God knows my taste in older men has burned me.

  “So, what brings you out, Jeff?”

  “I reached 50,000 followers on Instagram today, so I thought my boys and I should come out and celebrate . . . but then I saw you.” He gives me his best flirty grin and I smile.

  “Well, congrats to that, Jeff!” I raise my fresh martini enthusiastically and he grabs his shot of tequila to toast. He spends the next 20 minutes explaining to me in great detail the proper lifting techniques, his favorite protein powder, and what his diet is like. Tonight is a “cheat night.” He also pulls up his Instagram to show me all of his pictures—99% of which are gym selfies—and to explain the workout plans he sells.

  This calls for a third martini.

  I’m not the slightest bit interested in what he does, just as I suspect Jeff isn’t the slightest bit interested in what I do, because during this entire exchange, he hasn’t asked me a single question.

  I look around and notice the place is getting busier and the music has picked up. There are several people out on the dance floor and my two martinis have me feeling pretty fucking fantastic.

  “You dance, Jeff?” I lean forward and ask in his ear.

  “Hell, yeah,” he says taking my hand and leading me out to the floor.

  The music is pounding, the beat reverberating through my body as I sway and bounce to the music. Jeff’s hands are on me, wandering. His eyes are all over me too.

  “You’re so hot,” he shouts over the music, pressing his forehead to mine. I wrap my arms around his neck, my body pressed against his as I continue to let the music and alcohol carry me away. I feel his hands travel from my waist to my ass. He grabs me, pulling me closer as he shoves his face against mine. Our lips meet and we kiss. It’s messy and not good, but in this moment, I don’t care. I just want to feel something again.

  I close my eyes and try to enjoy it—try to get lost in it—but suddenly I’m tumbling forward as someone shoves Jeff away from me.

  “What the fuck?” he yells and I spin around, steadying myself to see . . . Grant? His eye
s are huge, both hands are balled into fists, and some hair has fallen over one eye.

  “You let him kiss you?” He spits the words out at me. “You let him put his fucking hands on you?” He’s shouting in my face and I don’t know what to do.

  “How the hell did you find me?” I ask, but the moment I do, I realize he probably reached out to Steph when I ignored him. I shake my head. “You’ve got some nerve, you asshole!” I shout back at him, shoving a finger in his face.

  “Hey, man, I had her first,” Jeff says, flexing his chest as he widens his stance.

  “Yeah? Well, she’s not yours, bro.”

  “Uh, I’m not yours either, Grant,” I spit back.

  “Get lost, man. She wants me, not you,” Jeff says, and I know it’s a mistake. Grant’s eyes go from anger to pure fucking rage. He steps closer, standing in front of me as he calmly slides one hand in his pocket and gets in Jeff’s face.

  “That right?” He looks down at his feet casually, rubbing the dark scruff on his jaw. “Did she tell you that just a few weeks ago, she was pregnant with my baby?”

  Jeff appears shocked and looks from Grant to me and raises his hands, backing away. “What the . . . ? Sorry, Miss.”

  I’m still registering what he just said. Pure vitriol rises in my throat. As Grant turns around to face me, I cock my hand back as far as it can go and slap the ever-loving shit out of his face.

  14

  Grant

  My head swings to the right as Leigh’s hand lands square across my jaw. The sting sets in a few seconds later and I open my mouth and close it again. I laugh. I had no idea she had it in her.

  “You fucking bastard!” she yells as she pounds on my chest. “How dare you!”

  I grab her arms to keep her from hitting me more, holding both wrists in my hands as she continues her assault.