Brock started to frown as his eyes narrowed. “Jillian—”
“Bye!” I chirped out, giving Colton and Reece a quick wave. “See you guys later.”
They might’ve said goodbye or they could’ve said nothing. I didn’t know. Blood pounded in my ears, and I couldn’t hear anything as I hurried through the bar, dodging the crowds of people talking and laughing. My hands shook as I pushed open the door and raced out into the balmy night air.
A light tap on the door dragged me out of the memory. Feeling shaken and sick to my stomach, experiencing all that messy and raw heartbreak like it was seconds ago instead of years ago, I looked up and saw Brock standing there like he’d been called up out of the mists of the past.
Why did he have to be here right now? Why? Because seeing him right now would be just as bad as seeing him immediately after masturbating to thoughts of him. Painfully fucking awkward.
He took one look at me and concern pinched his features. “Hey, you all right?”
“Yeah.” I swallowed down the knot clogging my throat as I watched him walk into my office. “I was . . .” Trailing off, I didn’t have a good excuse to why I was sitting at my desk, staring at the wall like someone had kicked my cat into oncoming traffic. Lifting a hand, I tucked my hair back. “You haven’t been standing there long, have you?”
“Long enough.”
I tensed.
Brock’s dark gaze roamed over my face, missing nothing. He said nothing as he came forward and then sat in the chair across from my desk. Several seconds passed and then he said, “Sometimes you get that look on your face. Like you’re a thousand miles away. As if you’re someplace else. And I think I know where.”
Oh God.
My eyes widened.
“And I’ve seen that look before,” he continued, his gaze finding mine. His broad shoulders tensed. “Because I . . . I put that look on your face before.”
Sucking in a sharp breath, I pushed back from the desk using my toes. I gripped the arms of my chair. “I wasn’t thinking about that. Not at all. I was just lost in thought. Seriously.”
His brows lifted in surprise, and he stared at me like I’d just admitted to secretly being Batgirl or something. “You . . . you never cease to surprise me.”
I laughed nervously. “I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”
Shaking his head as if he was almost stuck in a bubble of wonder, he then leaned forward, pressing his hands together. “You protect me.”
“What?”
“You protected me back then,” he said, his voice oddly hoarse. “And you are still doing it now, aren’t you? You don’t want me to think about that night, because you don’t want me to be upset.”
My God, was I that easily readable?
“Even though I know it still fucks with you. It still fucks with me. It always fucks with me, but you were the one hurt. I was the one who screwed up, and yet you still try to protect me.”
I was going to break the arms of my chair.
“And I don’t deserve that,” he said, a muscle flexing along his jaw. “I sure as hell didn’t deserve it then, and I still don’t deserve it now.”
Squeezing my eyes shut, I struggled to get air into my lungs. “Brock . . .”
“But I’m going to change that,” he promised, and my eyes flew open. “One day, one day real soon, I will change that.”
Chapter 16
“This . . . this would be so perfect.” With one hand on her protruding belly, Teresa turned in a slow circle. “I can almost see the mirror over here, across the wall. The bars right across from it.”
Avery nodded as she stood next to her friend. “God, this is . . . this is even more than what we expected.”
I allowed myself a small smile as they roamed the cavernous room lit up by industrial overhead lights. We’d already lost the guys. Jase and Cam had disappeared with Brock about five minutes into the meeting.
I stood back and let Avery and Teresa do their thing. There were a couple of more spaces that were empty, but I felt this one would work better since it was large enough to be sectioned into more than one space. I’d already gathered part of the information Brock had requested, pricing other classes in the area and their average class size. As I explained to Brock before, there wasn’t a lot of competition.
“So you think this space would work?” I asked.
Avery glanced over her shoulder, her eyes bright and warm. “Yes. This would definitely work.”
“Some of the spaces we looked at before were literally just rooms above businesses that were kept cool by ceiling fans,” Teresa explained. “And let’s not even talk about the condition of the floors in those places.”
“All right, so at least we know this space could work.” I clasped my hands together as I tapped the pointy toe of my heeled shoe. “The next step is getting a close as possible on an estimate for how much it would cost to convert this space into a dance studio. That’s where you guys would come in,” I explained. “I’ve spent some time looking at floor plans and material, but I figured you two would know exactly what you would need to make this work. So what I would want is an estimate.”
They exchanged looks and Teresa said, “We can do that.”
“Easily,” Avery agreed. “When would you need the information?”
“We have time. We’re nearing the end of the year, so we’re moving into the budgets for spring. If we were to greenlight this project, we’ll need to get permits and all of that lined up. Once we have the estimate, then we’re one step closer.”