“Siri, text back: That’s perfect. Steph and I were going to stop there first anyway. See you in five.”
I suddenly feel a pit form in my stomach. Grant is August’s ex, and even though she’s happily married to someone else now, I’m not sure how she’d feel about Grant and me. Guilt surges through my body and my palms start to sweat. Shit, how could I have been so careless to forget about August’s feelings in all of this?
“Hey,” I grip the steering wheel and glance over at Steph. “Could you keep the Grant and me stuff to yourself?”
“Uh, sure. I mean, hadn’t planned on telling anyone your business anyway, but what’s up?” Her brows furrow.
“It’s just that I don’t want August to know . . . yet. I feel like a horrible friend going on a date and . . .” I hesitate, “sleeping with her ex without telling her or asking her first.” Ugh, the words feel so dirty coming out of my mouth.
“Oh, honestly, Leigh, I’m sure she’d be fine with it. Didn’t she even tell you she thinks he likes you?”
“Yeah, they were still together then and I know it’s easy to joke about stuff like that, but it’s a whole different ball game when you actually have to see your ex and your friend get together. I do plan on telling her that I went out with him . . . just not today.”
We ride the rest of the way in silence, the gnawing feeling in my gut not going away. Just another reason why Grant Rossi and I shouldn’t be together.
We spend the next hour walking through the possible studio and catching up. August fills us in on married life with Remi and how her business is going.
“What about you? How are you ladies? I feel like between the honeymoon and buying the land and having our forever home built, I’ve been so MIA from everyone.”
“Nothing new here. Just the same old bar scene every night,” Steph sighs.
“Yeah, not too much going on here either besides pouring all my focus into finding a studio. And don’t stress about being busy with life, August. We’re just so happy you guys are together.” I reach out and rub her arm, hoping I convey to her how much I mean it. I know at times it seems she still feels guilt for marrying a guy I briefly dated, but they had a lifetime of history before I even came along.
“You ever hear from Grant?” The words are out of my mouth before I can think through them and Steph shoots me a what the hell? glance.
“Funny you should ask!” August laughs. “I ran into him at Bean & Bun last week. We made small talk and he was so sweet—literally no bad blood between us at all. It was such a relief!”
We head out of the building, August locking up behind us as we start to say our goodbyes on the sidewalk.
“Hey, really quick,” I hesitate. “You asked me once if you thought Grant might have a crush on me or if he talked to me or whatever, and I was just curious . . . what made you think that again?”
August smiles. “Oh, he just talked about you a lot—about how awesome he thought your class was, which I completely agree with, by the way. It’s not that I felt threatened by how kick-ass of a woman you are, but for example, the night he proposed, he took me to The Capital Grille in Denver with his mother, and after we ordered, he said something like I have to tell Leigh about this place, because she’d love it and I just thought it was strange. I guess I didn’t realize you guys were that close.”
He took me on a date to the same place he proposed to August? What the actual fuck? I’m suddenly annoyed. Am I reading into this? Should I even care? I guess if you really love a place, you’re bound to take more than one person there.
“We never were. Truthfully, I always had an attitude with him because he was cocky. And I figured he didn’t like me. I promise, nothing ever happened when you two were together.” My breath catches in my throat when I realize how I worded that, but she doesn’t seem to notice.
“Yeah, it was a short-lived fear. I asked him if he had a thing for you and he said no.”
She waves off the concern and I’m about to say goodbye again and head to my car when I stop. “Out of curiosity, what did he say about me?” She pauses, looking up toward the sky for a second like she’s thinking, and then she gets a look on her face. “What?” I ask, a little concerned by her expression.
“He said that he felt like you were bossy and annoying.” She grabs my hands. “I swear that was him, not me. He’s an idiot. We both know that!”
I laugh it off and wish her the best as I climb behind the wheel of my car.
That fucking bastard.
8
Grant
I’m only in town for the weekend and I plan on taking full advantage of seeing Leigh as much as I can. I grab my yoga mat by the back door and head out. I’m five minutes early to class today, so I place my mat in the front row, right in the middle.
“Hey, Sharon, how’s the sciatica?” I take a seat and place my water bottle and towel next to my mat.
“Oh hi, Dr. Rossi,” she coos, batting her eyelashes as she touches my arm. “It’s doing so much better. You really do have the magic touch.” Her fingers linger on my arm a little too long and I glance up to see Leigh staring at me.
“I merely told you how to make it better; you’re the one who put in the work.” I smile.
I bend and stretch through the next hour of class. Unlike my usual attempts to tease Leigh, today I actually needed some form correction.
“Hold this pose. You’ve got this, class! Only 15 more seconds,” Leigh says as she comes behind me, grabbing my hips and twisting me deeper into the pose. I can’t help but let out a small groan at her roughness. Bitch. She did that on purpose.
“You know, I’ve been thinking . . .” I say as I walk over to grab an antibacterial wipe for my mat. Everyone else has cleared out and it’s only Leigh and me left in the studio space.
“Hope you didn’t hurt yourself.” She laughs to herself.
“The reason why we can’t seem to get along is because we haven’t spent enough time together. I really only see you on the weekends, and you’re either at class or we cross paths at The Lariat.”
She stares at me. “Your point being?”
“Exactly what I just said. We need to spend more time together.” I cross my arms over my chest and lean against the pole in the room.
“I’ll pass. I like this weekend arrangement. It’s like you’re my stepdad. I don’t want to see you, but I’m forced to on weekends.” She smiles but it’s not genuine.
“Well, I don’t know about that, but I sure as hell won’t say no to you calling me daddy.” I step closer to her and brush a stray curl out of her face.
“Eww,” she says, swatting my hand away and I laugh in response. “I’ll ask you again for the 50th time: Does that kind of stuff actually work on women?”
“What do you think?” I toss her a wink as she flips off the lights and starts toward the door. “Hey, wait.” I grab her wrist as she walks by, spinning her around to face me.
“What?”
I turn her to look out into the main area of the gym. Dozens of people are milling about, running on treadmills, and bouncing from machine to machine. I place my hands softly on her waist.