Spurred Bearback (BBW Shifter Cowboy Western Romance) (Bear Ranchers Book 4)

by Becca Fanning

  The gym was bright, thanks to a wall of floor to ceiling windows that looked out over the avenue below. Tons of cardio equipment filled the large part of the gym. Treadmills, ellipticals and stationary bikes were lined up in rows against the windows. Off to one side were the free weights. Two guys were taking turns lifting weights, grunting noisily as they did.

  “So here we have everything you’ll need to make a commitment to yourself. Cardio equipment for getting your heart rate up. Weights if you want to tone up,” he said. He pointed off to a doorway. “That’s our class workout room. I’ll get you a schedule before you leave.”

  “So are all your trainers…” I said, not knowing if this was a polite question.

  “Board certified? Yes, and we require recertification every six months. That’s twice as often as any other gym in the city,” he said, leading me over to the locker rooms.

  “No, sorry. I meant, are you all Shifters?” I said quietly.

  “Ma’am, I’m more than a set of golden eyes and inch long fangs,” he said. Then he dropped the act, grinning. “Yeah, but it’s just coincidence. We’re not against a human coming on board as a trainer, if they’re qualified.”

  “Sorry, I hope that wasn’t rude,” I said.

  “You’re just curious. I get that. I think that mystique will be good for the gym. At least I hope so,” he said. “Anyway, here we have our co-ed locker room.”

  “Huh?” I said.

  “That joke doesn’t work, does it?” he said, then quietly, almost to himself, “Ok, Mark, stick that one in the bin.”

  I found that affectation cute. “Shucks, just then I thought I’d have another reason to come to the gym,” I said, looking away as I sipped my coffee. I was flirting! I was flirting with a personal trainer! A shifter personal trainer!

  “That’s the whole shebang, Olivia,” Mark said. “We’ve got some plans for expansion but those are down the road. Do you have any questions?” He put his arm up on a weight machine and leaned against it. His shirt pulled up and his pale six-pack peaked out at me.

  I pulled away from his delicious abs and met his eyes. “Do you take Visa?”

  “Olivia, you’re so hot,” Mark said as he undressed me.

  We were in the gym, except it wasn’t the gym. There was just a bed in the center, the old four post bed with sheer scarves draped all over it. It was empty save for the two of us.

  “Take off your shirt, Mark,” I said, in my best sultry voice.

  He peeled his shirt off, and as my eyes went up his body, it just got better and better. A nice little treasure trail leading up to his belly button, then his six-pack. Above those were his marble slab pecks, and shoulders that just didn’t quit.

  My mouth watered at the sight of him. “Do you like my robe?” I said, letting it slip off one shoulder to let him see some skin.

  “I do, but I’d like it better on the floor,” he said.

  I feigned scandal, pulling the robe back over my shoulder. “Good sir, what kind of lady do you take me for?”

  “The kind who wants me to kneel in front of her and spend all night servicing her,” he growled.

  My legs trembled with anticipation, and I felt a bead of my lust appear on my slit. I closed my eyes and took a step forward to kiss him. To feel his hard chest in my hands, the bulge in his sweat pants against my stomach.

  But instead I fell forward, fell through the floor, falling and falling forever.

  Last night’s fantasy turned nightmare probably reflected some deep seated issues, but at face value, I took it as a reminder to get into the gym. I was resigned not to be one of those people who just bought a gym membership and didn’t go.

  It was late, and I’d had a stressful day at work. My boss Janice thought I’d lost something, and let me know how upset she was. Lo and behold, she found the missing contract on her desk, under her pile of papers. Would it have killed her to apologize?

  Suffice it to say it was a pretty good excuse to crawl into a tub of butter pecan ice cream and zone out to some reality shows. That had been my default evening activity as of late. It was just so easy to fall back into that habit. I could practically hear the creamy frozen temptation call out to me.

  But enough was enough. If I didn’t decide to change, this could end up being the next decade or two of my life. I wasn’t happy, so it was time to change things up.

  I changed into my gym clothes and grabbed my water bottle. I had a plan. I didn’t want to overdo it, but I wanted to spend a solid hour there. Satisfied that I was prepared, I headed out.

  The walk there was short, and the setting sun gave everything a pleasant purple glow. I took a shortcut through an alley that brought me to the back entrance of the gym. I nodded to myself and walked in.

  Up in the gym, the place was busy. Lots of people bustled around, going from machine to machine. I was pleased to note that lots of different types used this gym. There was nothing worse than being the only normal person in a gym full of athletes and models.

  I watched a balding man step off the treadmill. I ran over to snatch the open machine, putting my water bottle in the little holster. I stepped up on the thing and in moments I was speedily walking at an incline.

  “Do it! Lift it!” a man said loudly from the free weight area.

  The man next to him was beet red, lifting a bar full of weight up off the ground. With a loud grunt he heaved and stood erect, then lowered the weight down. He breathed in heavily and walked around in a little circle.

  I put my earphones in and fired up the 90’s dance playlist I’d spent way too long putting together. A Cher remix came on and I was in the zone. One song led into the next, and I was just putting one foot in front of the other. My thighs protested, my thick ass whined but I paid them no mind. Before I knew it, tiny droplets of sweat were forming on my brow and cascading down the sides of my face. The soreness abated, replaced by a feeling of power. My body hadn’t moved like this in a very long time, but it was remembering.

  I looked out the large windows onto the avenue below, the street lamps casting a soft glow over the people walking between shops. Directly across from the gym, in what might seem like a cruel twist of fate, was an ice cream shop. We’re not talking about the icy and sugar crap slung in forty-nine flavors or whatever. This was the super premium stuff. It would melt on your tongue like a velvety blanket of heroin, filling your brain with “all the feels” as the kids say these days.

  I watched the people going in and out of that place. I realized something strange: I didn’t envy them. I didn’t want to join them. I kind of felt bad for them, because they weren’t sweating right now.

  Then, to my surprise, the ice cream shop emptied and they turned off the lights. How strange for them to close to early. I glanced down at the readout of the treadmill for the first time since I stepped on it.

  I almost tripped when I saw the number. A hundred and fifty minutes. Great, I thought, I chose a broken one. I looked around the gym and saw that very few people remained. I tapped the screen of my phone to turn it on. It was past 10PM, closing time for the gym.

  “Hey there,” a voice said from behind me.

  I turned and was looking at a tall bleach blonde guy with very wide shoulders and golden eyes. “Hey yourself,” I said, grabbing my water bottle and bringing it to my lips. It was empty. Damn.

  “My name’s Frank, I’m one of the trainers here. I saw you were really working it, and I didn’t want to interrupt you, but it’s closing time,” he said.

  “You were watching me work it?” I said casually. Where was this coming from?

  “Umm,” he said, his eyes going wide. “Not like that. I mean, we get people in here that work hard. But you’re something else,” he said.

  I was pretending to look up at the clock on the wall. I could feel his eyes roam over my body, taking in my curves through the soaked fabric of my t-shirt and yoga pants. “And what if I’d just kept going?”

  “I don’t know. I guess it would’ve been
a late night,” he said, grinning.

  “Well, my name’s Olivia, and I was just wrapping up,” I said. I hit the stop button on the treadmill and stepped off.

  “Be care-“ he said.

  I took a step, and my quadricep seized up. “Eeeek!” I cried as the worst charlie horse I’d ever felt rippled through my right leg.

  “Here,” Frank said, ducking under my arm and grabbing my waist to help me walk over to a bench.

  As soon as I took another step, my other leg seized up. I threw my other arm around his neck and hung on for dear life, my legs hanging uselessly under me.

  “Ok,” he said. “New plan.” Without hesitation, he dipped low for a second and his arms went under me.

  “No, don’t hurt yourself!” I pleaded. Then I was weightless. I was floating. In this man’s arms. Like a new bride being carried over the hearth in those old stories, he walked me over to the nearest bench.

  “Now just relax,” he said as he gently placed me down. “You’re fine, but you could seriously injure yourself if we don’t relax this muscle.”

  “I’m fine. I just need a few seconds,” I said, gritting my teeth through the pain. After a decade of being a couch potato, I speed walked at an incline for two and a half hours. Stupid! “Besides, you have to close up.”

  “A few more minutes won’t kill me,” he said. “I’m a licensed kinesiologist, and I’d like to do a simple massage to each leg to restore blood flow. Is that ok with you?”

  “Yes!” I said, my facade melting. I just wanted the cramping to stop.

  “How long have you been a member here, Olivia?” he said, placing his hands on my knees.

  “Is it still 2015?” I asked. His hands on my thighs sent a thrill through me. I couldn’t remember the last time a man had touched me that way.

  “Yes, it’s still 2015,” he said. His hands looked still but his fingertips were alternating pressure, like stroking the keys of a piano.

  “Then one day,” I said, leaning back and closing my eyes.

  “Are you always such a smart ass?” he said.his fingertips slowly moving their way up my thighs.

  “My turn,” I said.

  “What?” Frank said.

  “You asked me a question. Now it’s my turn to ask you one,” I said. “That’s how this works.”

  “I see. I didn’t know there were rules to conversation,” he said. His fingertips were right above my knees, and they began probing my supple flesh.

  “So, are you a…bear?” I said. I don’t know what was giving me the courage to ask this, unless I’d filled my water bottle with vodka. In my defense, he was practically feeling me up, so a few questions were fair game.

  “Yeah, I’m a bear Shifter,” Frank said. “We’re mostly bear Shifters on staff here. It tends to make a more conducive work environment.”

  “Oh?” I said.

  “Don’t get me wrong,” he said, his fingers giving a deep tissue massage to my outer thigh. “Being good people is more important than anything else. There are extra considerations when you’re a Shifter, though. Wolf Shifters, for instance, tend to be more pack oriented.”

  “Ahh,” I said, my breath starting to speed up. His fingertips were working their magic, leaving calmed muscles in their wake. His large presence felt safe and very masculine, awakening another long dormant emotion inside me. I leaned back even more, letting my arms fall to the side. My breasts stuck out, my nipples growing hard through the damp fabric.

  “It’s like,” he said, his fingertips pausing for a moment, “You ever have co-workers who always wanted to go out for drinks after work? Always trying to get big groups together? A lot of wolf Shifters are like that,” he said, his fingertips going back to work across the top of my thighs. “And that’s fine, but sometimes you just need some alone time, you know?”

  “Mmmm,” I said, totally engrossed in the feeling of his hands. My slit felt like it was getting wet, but it might have just been the sweat. “What would the wolf Shifters say about you?”

  He laughed loudly, a deep mirthful rumble. “They call us Momma Bears. Protective and easily attached to others,” he said, shrugging. “Honestly it’s all bullshit. You’ll have good people and bad people. Doesn’t matter if they’re human or Shifter.” His fingertips were higher now, working the inside of my thighs.

  I let my legs fall open, giving him better access to work with. I could feel my pussy lips pull apart, pressing against the tight damp fabric of the yoga pants. I knew I was giving him an anatomy lesson down there, but I didn’t care. His fingers stopped.

  I opened my eyes in time to see him stand and turn around. The impression of a long hard cock snaked down one leg of his gym shorts.

  “Ok, you should be good now. I’ve got to go round up the towels,” he said, walking away from me.

  “Thank you,” I said. Watching his chiseled calves flex as he walked away, I longed for him to come back. To put his strong hands back on my body.

  “Come on Olivia,” I whispered. “You’ve got no shot.” That was the sad, sad truth. These guys were in peak physical condition, and all day they were surrounded by people who’d been going to the gym a lot longer than me. He was a good samaritan and my horniness made nothing seem like something.

  I got to my feet, relieved to find that my legs could now support my weight. I bent my knees, testing my luck here rather than on the steel staircase that awaited me. No worries, my muscles were all on board now. He knew what he was doing, and not just how to turn me on.

  I headed to the exit, pushing the glass door open and descending the stairs. Outside, a stiff breeze blew and I wrapped my arms around myself to ward off the chill. A block and a half away, I went to pull out my phone to check the temperature.

  Shit, I didn’t have it. I’d left it back on the machine. A sense of panic crept over me, and I headed back to the gym. If there was one thing I hated, it was losing my phone. Having to go back to the wireless store, getting all my contacts put over to a new phone. It was the worst.

  My climb back up those stairs was harder than the descent, and when I got to the top, most of the lights were off in the gym. Damn. I guess I’d have to get my phone in the morning before work. I turned to head back down the stairs.

  I froze. Why was the building entrance unlocked, then? I turned back and walked to the glass doors. Obviously they were closed, and I didn’t want to impose or do anything I wasn’t supposed to do, but this was pretty much an emergency. I’d be right in and out without anyone the wiser.

  I pushed against the door and it swung inward. I heard noise coming from the men’s locker room, but I quickly darted to the treadmills. I grabbed my phone off the treadmill and headed back to the entrance.

  A voice rang out loudly from the locker room. “Dude, no way is she into you! You just met her!” I couldn’t be sure, but it sounded like Mark.

  “I’m telling you, there was something there. You should’ve seen her. All splayed open for me,” the other voice said. That was definitely Frank.

  I wish I could say that I was enough of an adult to honor the privacy of that conversation, that I blocked it out and headed out the door on my merry way. But let’s be real. Instead I made my way over to the locker room entrance and listened.

  “I’m sorry to have to tell you, but I saw her first,” Mark said.

  “Fuck off, dude,” Frank said, laughing. “I practically got to second base. You’re still in the bleachers.”