Two fingers pressed to his lips as he rested his chin in his palm. “Okay.”
“What they’ve been looking at is space for classes, but as I’m sure you know, space isn’t easy to come by and neither are the type of funds necessary to start a studio from the ground up,” I explained. “What I was thinking is we have a lot of space available, large rooms that could probably be easily converted into dance studio space.”
Brock studied me for a moment. “You’re basically suggesting that we rent out some of our space for dance classes?”
I shot him a dark look. “You don’t need to say it like that. Some of those dancers are more badass than our fighters. Especially when you get into the tumbling and gymnastics aspect, which by the way, gymnastics would also probably be a great route to go down eventually.” Scooting forward, I gripped the arms of the chair. “And offering classes like that doesn’t just appeal to girls. A lot of boys are into dancing. There can be a lot of different age levels and styles. And not only that, we can upsell gym memberships to parents,” I told him. “And maybe even a few self- defense classes.”
Brock appeared to contemplate this for a couple of moments. “And we could probably get a couple of our lower-level martial arts classes out of cross-selling.” His eyes narrowed. “But if your friends are interested in eventually opening their own studio and potentially taking their clients with them, what long-term benefit is there for us? Because it seems like we’d be footing most of the cost to convert the space.”
I’d planned for that question. “If they do decide to leave and open their own studio, and that is an ‘if’ at this point, we bring in different dance teachers,” I responded. “We could also make it worth their while to stay with Lima, which would probably be eventually taking on more of a sponsorship role and allowing them to run it, but that’s neither here nor there at this point. With or without them, this could be a very successful endeavor and it’s not something we’ve ever done before.”
“Hmm.” He tapped his fingers on the corner of his lips. “This is different, going in a direction I doubt Andrew was thinking of, but your father is innovative.” He paused. “So are you.”
Fighting a grin, I nodded.
Brock appeared to mull it over for several moments and then said, “I’m not a hundred percent on board with this, but I think it’s worth looking into. What I would like to see is who our competitors will be, what they’re charging, and what kind of profit we can expect to make after the expense of converting spaces.”
It took great effort to contain my excitement. “I can do that.”
“Well, let’s set up a time when both of them can come see the space and we can figure out what they were thinking would be needed to meet their standards,” he said, lowering his hand. “Have them bring their husbands.”
I lifted a brow. “Why?”
“Because I’m pretty sure I’ll zone out at some point during that conversation, and I can use the guys as an excuse and show them around the facility.” He grinned when I rolled my eyes. “Hey, I’m just being honest. Plus, the six of us could grab dinner afterward. One big happy date.”
Now both of my brows were inching up my forehead.
He chuckled as he sat back in his chair. “If only you could see the look on your face right now. Cute.”
“Cute?”
“Very cute,” he murmured.
I gave a little shake of my head, not allowing myself to think much of that. “I don’t think that would be wise—the one, big happy date thing.”
“And why not?”
“Well, yesterday is a good example,” I found myself saying.
His head tilted to the side as his brows furrowed together. “What about yesterday?”
“Well, you know, when Kristen showed up.”
He started to frown. “I’m not really following what she has to do with us having dinner with your friends.”
For a moment, all I could do was stare at him. Sure, people who were involved with others had dinner with all sorts of random people all the time, but that wasn’t the same here. I wasn’t a random coworker. I never would be. Brock knew that.
I glanced around, wondering exactly how obvious I needed to be. “Kristen seemed very unhappy yesterday.”
“That’s pretty much a constant state of affairs for her,” he commented wryly.
Okay then. “Well, perhaps as her fiancée, you should help fix that then, instead of making it worse?”
“What?” Brock laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. “Her fiancée?” As his laughter died off, a look of understanding settled into his expression. “Oh. I see.”
“You do?”
His eyes seemed to darken as his thick lashes lowered. “Kristen and I are no longer engaged. I broke things off with her about a year ago.”
Chapter 12
“What?” I shrieked, and then cringed when Brock blinked. Yikes. “I’m sorry. That was loud. I just . . . I’m surprised.”
“I can tell.” A slow grin played across his lips.
He wasn’t engaged? My thoughts whirled at a hectic pace. “Why?” I blurted out and then blushed. “I’m sorry. That’s probably none of my business.”
“I thought you already knew. I’m kind of surprised your parents haven’t said something,” he said, leaning back in his chair.
“Obviously, they haven’t.” Mom hadn’t even mentioned it last night. Why wouldn’t they say something? Then it hit me. Probably because she was afraid I would fall back in love with him if he was available. Geez. Did they really think I was that . . . predictable? Or pathetic. Either “P” word would work. “What happened?”