My jaw is on the floor.

“Are you ready?” Mitchell says.

I open and close my mouth repeatedly as I take it in. My heart thumps inside my chest. This is gorgeous, and I can imagine all the Pilates beds set up in this area.

“What are you thinking?” Mitchell asks.

I look to Evan and watch his eyes scan the room, also taking in the space. I’d love to know what he’s thinking.

My lips turn up as I answer from my heart. “It’s exactly what I had in mind.”

“White walls, tons of natural light,” Mitchell rattles off. “All open space.”

Evan comes closer, so I ask him in a whisper, “What do you think?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he taps the back of my arm, inclines his head, and moves away from Mitchell. I follow, understanding he wants us to talk in private.

“What does your gut tell you?”

My brow furrows with confusion. Why does my gut have any say right now? And more importantly, why is he asking me that?

He must read my bewildered look because he whispers, “I’m serious. Every time I have a funny feeling in my gut, it’s because something isn’t right.”

I stop and take his words seriously. My gut doesn’t feel off.

“I’m happy with this place. Deep down, I think it’s the right choice.”

“And how much do they want for it?”

“$445,000.”

He taps his finger on his lips, and it’s weirdly distracting. They are thin and pink. And I’m still staring at them. Fantasizing about what they would feel like against mine when he turns to me.

“Good price. Good location. And if your gut isn’t off, I say go for it.”

I bring my gaze to his quickly, noticing the arch in his eyebrow, but I ignore the fact he caught me looking at his mouth and focus on the fact he’s encouraging me to buy it.

My eyes light up as I bounce on the balls of my feet, beaming with happiness. “I can really see the set up.”

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he replies.

I walk to the entry. He follows quietly behind me.

“Here, I’d have the reception desk and merchandise. Then I would need a locker room, so I would need to get that built as soon as possible. Then, starting here and filling up the whole space, I’d have Pilate beds.”

“How much does a Pilates class cost?”

I pause and twist to face him. “Why, are you going to attend?” I giggle, running my eyes over him. I force myself to stop imagining him on a bed.

“No.”

I’m teasing. I know a man like him wouldn’t be caught dead doing Pilates. Men built like him like to run and hit the weights. But it would be nice to be a fly on the wall and watch him workout.

I clear my throat and refocus on his question. “I’m thinking $40 a class, and I’d offer bundles. You know…if you attended a class, it would help me.”

He doesn’t answer, instead he just grunts his disapproval.

“I’d hope to have at least fifteen people in here.”