Faceoff (Northbrook Hockey Elite Book 1)

by Rebecca Connolly

  “Oh,” Clint said slowly, nodding in understanding. “Because you’re actually a member of the Six Pack and she’s the sister of one of your adopted brothers in the Six Pack? Yep. So different. Yours is much worse. I feel so much better now.”

  “Come on, man.”

  “Grizz, listen.” Clint bit down on his tongue for a minute, searching for the right words. “I don’t know how else to explain it, but it’s precisely because of our association through the Six Pack that Bree and I have been able to . . . Well, that I, at least, have been able to feel so much so fast. We already knew each other and respected each other, and . . . I can promise you right now that if I had met Bree Stone just out of the blue, no Six Pack to force us together, I would still be addicted to her, invested in her, and in love with her. That’s it, the end.”

  Silence met his ears in response to that. He wasn’t going to address it this time, though. The call hadn’t dropped, and Grizz had heard every word he said.

  Processing was allowed.

  “You’re set on this, huh?”

  Clint grinned to himself. “Yep. All in. In fact, the more we talk, the better about it I feel.”

  “I’m getting off, then.”

  “Ha ha. So?”

  “So . . . ?”

  “Grizz.”

  His brother laughed, and Clint took that as a good sign. “You’re not asking for my permission, and frankly, you don’t need it. I love Bree. She’s one of my faves. You want her, go for it. Hurt her, and no one will find your body, but that’s roughly what I was told too.”

  “Thanks very much. So you’ll help me figure out what to tell Ryker?”

  “Absolutely not; you’re on your own.”

  “I hate you.”

  “Good night to you too. Give Bree a big hug from me.”

  “Will do.”

  The call did disconnect at that point, and Clint exhaled very slowly.

  One hurdle down, only a dozen or so more to go.

  “Text Bree,” he said out loud to his Bluetooth. “I told Grizz about us. Went great. Missed you. Sleep well.” He cleared his throat, wondering why in the world he had a lump. “Send text.”

  The Bluetooth dinged in indication the text had sent, and Clint nodded to himself. They’d talked about letting their families in on their relationship, and they had agreed that someone should probably know sooner rather than later, just given the ties they had. Bree was terrified about telling Ryker, and Clint couldn’t blame her.

  Ryker wasn’t particularly terrifying, but he was very protective of his sister, as he should be, and there was no telling who would be good enough for Bree in his eyes.

  Clint wasn’t sure he was good enough for Bree in his own eyes, but he was just going to go with that.

  His phone rang suddenly, and he glanced at the alert on his dashboard.

  Bree.

  He pressed the answer button quickly. “Hey, beautiful, what are you doing awake?”

  “Waiting for you,” Bree murmured in a low, sleepy voice.

  His hands tightened on the steering wheel while he fought against the jolt her words had given him. “Babe, you can’t say things like that. Not nice.”

  “Thinking about you being home is nice.”

  “Breezy . . . ”

  She laughed, the sound even lower than normal, and it slowly trickled heat up his spine. “Sorry. So. Grizz is in?”

  “Define in.”

  Bree clicked her tongue. “Yeah . . . In with reservations, then?”

  “I guess. He says to give you a big hug.”

  “That’s sweet. So it’s you he has a problem with.”

  Clint laughed as he came to a stoplight. “Apparently. How was your night?”

  “Fine. Got a lot of stuff done, and potentially have an internship lined up.”

  “Hey, that’s great!” He tapped his thumbs against the steering wheel to an imagined beat. “Going to tell me what it is?”

  He heard her rustling. “Nope. Not until it’s official.”

  “Come on,” he groaned, turning through the intersection. “You’re killing me, sweetheart.”

  “Well, it’s not an actual internship!” she protested. “I’m having to get all kinds of permission to bend the rules, and I’m still waiting to hear back from the people I’d be working with on if they even want to do this . . . ”

  “They will,” Clint assured her, feeling more magnanimous than anything else. “Whoever they are, whatever it is, they will want you. You are amazing, capable, and brilliant, and they will be lucky to have you.”

  Bree hummed softly, the sound ricocheting within his chest. “You’re sweet. I like you a lot.”

  Clint smiled a big, stupid grin at that, not remotely embarrassed by how much satisfaction that gave him. “Well, I happen to like you a lot too. What do you say to that?”

  He heard her yawn, and it made him chuckle. “I say it’s too bad it’s two in the morning, because I would love to see you.”

  “I’d love that too, baby. But you need sleep. Even brilliance must rest from time to time.”

  “Yes, we must, we surely must.”

  “You’re adorable.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  “Crazy for you.”

  Bree sighed a dreamy sigh, and he wasn’t entirely sure it was pretend, which made his smile harder to remove. “You sure you can’t come over?”

  “I’m sure, much as I would love to. I don’t think Penny would like finding me there in the morning.”

  “Penny’s out of town.”

  “Now you tell me,” he moodily answered as he pulled into the driveway of his condo. “How about I make it up to you?”

  “Sounds promising. How?”

  “Breakfast in the morning?”

  “Mm. How early?”

  Clint laughed, turning off the truck and clambering out. “Not too early, I promise. I have a wake-up practice at nine.”

  “That’s just mean.”

  “It’s fine. It’s a short workout. I could swing by and pick you up after.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  “Good.” He entered his condo and flopped himself down on the couch, sighing heavily, feeling the fatigue of a late night of traveling at last.

  “You okay, babe?”

  He smiled at the endearment, as he usually did. “I love when you call me that.”

  “You’re fine.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Oh my gosh . . . ”

  He laughed once and opened his mouth, only to find the words he wanted to say stuck there.

  He couldn’t say it now. Not like this. Not over the phone. Not in the middle of the night.

  “Clint?”

  “Yeah, I’m here. You going to tell me about your top secret project soon?”

  “Yes, actually. Can you do me a huge favor tomorrow?”

  “Name it.”

  “I need all of your Northbrook guys in on a conference call or FaceTime. Think that can happen?”

  Clint sat up, pressing the phone more tightly against his ear. “I think so. I’ll check the schedules, but there should be some window that works. You need Mr. White, too?”

  Bree hesitated on the other end of the call. “He already knows.”

  “He what now?” Clint looked at the phone, then put it back to his ear. “You serious?”

  “Just . . . I’ll explain everything I can tomorrow, okay? Can you get the guys?”

  “Of course. Absolutely I can. Bree . . . ”

  “Yeah?”

  He wanted to tell her. He wanted to tell her so badly.

  He swallowed the words. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

  “I’m stressed and insane, that’s what I am.”

  “Don’t correct me when I’m complimenting you.”

  “Sorry.”

  He heard her yawn again and sighed. “Okay, my beautiful girl, you get some sleep, and I’ll pick you up for breakfast tomorrow.”

  “I like the s
ound of that.”

  “Breakfast?”

  “Huh-uh. Being your girl.”

  Clint looked up at the ceiling, then closed his eyes in an almost benediction. “You are. If you want to be.”

  “I want to be.”

  “Okay.”

  “Good night, Clint.”

  “Night.”

  He ended the call and tossed the phone onto the nearby recliner, then flopped back down onto his couch.

  Bree Stone for the kill.

  Points for her.

  This was a dangerous game they were playing, but he was loving it. He hadn’t lied; she was his girl. But more than that, he belonged to her. Whatever she wanted, wherever she wanted him, however she wanted him, he was hers.

  He had no idea what she had planned for him and the Northbrook guys tomorrow, and the fact that she had already been in communication with Mr. White showed him just how serious she was about this. He’d suspected, obviously, but for something to actually happen . . . for action to be taken . . .

  It was becoming real.

  He could only hope that her plans, as involved as they were, would be more realistic and plausible than the latest idea they’d had, which had involved selling all of Jax’s dad’s classic cars without telling him and giving the money to Northbrook.

  They hadn’t been serious, obviously, but all serious ideas would never have worked.

  Bree might be able to do it, though.

  Bree was just smart enough, just determined enough, just capable enough.

  And she was his.

  Who’d have thought?

  Forcing himself to sit up, he pushed off of the couch and swiped his phone from the chair as he headed into the bedroom.

  He pulled up the group chat for The Pit and started a message.

  Clint: My brilliant gf has an idea for Northbrook. You guys free for a conference call tomorrow?

  If he didn’t have five solid responses in the morning, there would be hell to pay.

  Why, oh why, oh why had she told Clint she needed him to gather the Northbrook guys?

  She wasn’t ready for this. Couldn’t be. What if the whole thing fell apart?

  Bree shook her head as she straightened the living room for the fourteenth time. She had received permission from her advisor to use Northbrook as her internship so long as she continued to work on the project she had proposed.

  The official presentation to her committee regarding that proposal was next week, but she had to move now to get the ball rolling. In order for her idea to work, she needed a number of things to go right and to happen quickly.

  She would be letting these six guys in on the project she’d been furiously working nonstop on for a week, and only because she needed their help to get it to work. Her roommates were already working on various aspects in their area of expertise, and if everything went according to plan, they would be working together on this project all next semester too.

  And for a long time after.

  What had she been thinking?

  That was a stupid question; she knew exactly what she’d been thinking. She was saving Clint’s hockey club.

  But the larger project wasn’t about the Northbrook Elite Hockey Club.

  It was about all athletic clubs.

  Everything she had heard about Northbrook had centered around the surrounding community. Outreach to kids in need, camps to learn the basics of hockey from athletes playing at elite levels, regularly taking part in community projects and providing positive outlets for kids that might otherwise have nothing. It had changed a number of lives, not to mention trained some of the best hockey players in the professional and Olympic worlds.

  She had contact information for every single one of them, and Mr. White had assured her that every one of them would help her, if they were able.

  That, he assured her, was the power of Northbrook.

  Bree hadn’t tried that yet; she wanted Clint and his friends signed on first, and then they could help her decide who to reach out to next.

  Clint had texted her that morning before his practice and told her all of the guys were available that afternoon, which had sent her into total work mode. She’d gone over the numbers her father had analyzed for her again, reviewed every document Mr. White had sent to Clint plus the ones she’d asked for herself, and clicked through every page of notes she, Amy, and Penny had put together since they’d taken all of this on.

  She felt ready.

  In theory.

  A business meeting she could have handled.

  A meeting with her boyfriend’s former teammates about saving one business and starting another . . . not quite.

  Almost, but not quite.

  Clint had assured her at breakfast that she would be great, though he had no concrete idea what she would be proposing. Clearly it was about his club—there was no hiding that—but as for the rest . . .

  Was it ridiculous and juvenile for her to want him to be impressed?

  A faint buzzing met her ears, and she felt for her phone in her pockets, but it wasn’t there. She looked around the living room, scanning the well-worn couch and cushions to no avail.

  “Phone,” she muttered to herself, turning on the spot, her eyes grazing over every nook and cranny. “Phone, phone, phone, phone . . . ” The scanning stopped on the TV stand, where her black phone case blended almost perfectly with the wood and TV itself. “What in the world is it doing there?”

  She hurried over to it and answered quickly. “Hello?”

  “Hi, Bree,” Trista’s warm voice answered, not sounding quite as chipper as it normally did.

  Bree exhaled, her shoulders sagging, and she moved over to the couch and dropped herself onto it. “Hi.”

  “So that was an interesting text,” Trista said slowly. “Normally you’re not that cryptic.”

  “Well, I didn’t want some production assistant to know my business,” Bree retorted with a smile. “So . . . are you alone?”

  Trista laughed softly. “Yes, sweetie, I am alone. I’m in my hotel room. We had a night shoot, so I’m free.”

  “Good.”

  Silence roamed the line between them, and Bree leaned her head back on the couch.

  “Uh, sweetie . . . this thing only works if you actually talk.”

  Bree chuckled, then sighed. “I’m in love with Clint McCarthy.”

  Again, there was silence, but this time, it made Bree smile.

  “Wow,” Trista finally said. “Wow. I mean . . . that’s so great, Bree!”

  Bree sat up. “It is?”

  “Yeah! I don’t know Clint well, but I like him! And you know Grizz was raised right, so Clint will be too. How long have you two been a thing?”

  A wince flashed across Bree’s face, and she screwed up her eyes as she said, “Three weeks. Give or take.”

  There was a beat, and then a very slow “Okay . . . ”

  “I know. Trust me, I know.” Bree covered her eyes on a rough exhale. “It’s so fast. It’s so fast, Trista. But it’s also intense. And I’m so head over heels over whatever. He’s . . . he’s everything. I . . . I love him. I love him so freaking much, and it scares me to death.”

  “Oh, Bree . . . Honey, why does it scare you?”

  Bree swallowed a sudden wash of tears. “Because I want in. All in. I know it’s fast and intense, but this is it for me, I know it. At least, I think I know it. I don’t know . . . ” She groaned and sank further into the couch. “I sound so pathetic.”

  Trista made a sympathetic sound. “No, sweetie, you’re not pathetic. This is what it’s like, unfortunately. So let me ask you this: What is it that makes you want to be all in?”

  “It’s so easy with him,” Bree told her, dropping her hand from her face. “He knows what it’s like to be a Six Pack Sib. He gets me. He’s not pushy, he’s actually interested in me . . . he makes me laugh . . . he just wants to be with me. Nobody has ever wanted that.”

  “That’s how it should be, Bree.”

 
; “But . . . ” Bree wet her lips, shaking her head. “Do I love him just because he’s the first guy who’s been really into me?”

  “Go with your gut. What do you think?”

  Bree closed her eyes, thinking back to every moment she could recall over the past few weeks. Everything Clint had done for her, every tension-packed moment, every kiss, lingering a moment longer on that magical first . . .

  “Even if I’d had a dozen boyfriends before Clint, I would still know that he’s different.”

  “There you go, then.”

  “But I’m still . . . I don’t know, I’m still scared.”

  “Are you scared of the novelty or scared of the intensity?”

  “Yes . . . ” Bree admitted with a nervous laugh. “Both.”

  “How scared?” Trista asked with some concern. “Do you want out?”

  Instantly Bree shook her head. “No! No, that’s just it; I want in.”

  She wanted it so much she could barely get the words out, could barely breathe.

  How could she possibly convey that to her sister-in-law?

  “How in?” Trista’s voice was full of curiosity now, the concern clearly taking a back seat.

  Bree grinned at a sudden mental image. “I’d walk down the aisle now if he asked me.”

  There was a surprised cough from Trista. “Oh, Bree . . . wow.”

  “Don’t tell Ryker!”

  “Of course not, I’m not an idiot.”

  They both laughed for a moment more. “Honey, I think you know what your heart wants, and I think you’re just scared to get that out in the universe.”

  “So what do you suggest?”

  “Tell him you love him. And kiss him senseless. The order of those two things doesn’t really matter; they go hand in hand.”

  Bree’s face flamed, but she giggled knowingly all the same. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Attagirl! I’m seriously so happy, Bree. This sounds promising. Keep me in the loop, okay?”

  “Always. I love you, Trista.”

  “Love you too, hon. Bye.”

  Bree smiled almost dreamily as she hung up, the idea of kissing Clint senseless always a pleasant one. Telling him how she felt about him was terrifying in the extreme, but maybe, if she kissed him senseless enough, she might find some courage in there.