Faceoff

by Rebecca Connolly

  “Not really,” she replied slowly. “He just . . . Well, he sent a lot of flame emojis, and then said he wants all the details later.” She looked up at him. “You aren’t going to tell him, are you? I don’t know the others, but him . . . I’m still mad about that hit.”

  Clint took the phone, laughing. “You’re the one who told me to be bigger than the hit!”

  “I stand by that,” she flat out said. “You need to be bigger than it. I never said I had to be.”

  That was the most adorable, the most hilarious, and unquestionably the best thing he had ever heard in his entire life, and he let himself laugh good and hard over it. Then he wiped at his eyes and responded to the text while saying, “My gosh, that was great. You are seriously the greatest, Bree, and I love that you said that.”

  “Glad I could be amusing,” she muttered moodily. “What are you saying?”

  He looked up at her as he hit send. “That my date is my business, they should mind theirs, and I’d rather spend time with you than waste time with them.”

  Bree stilled in her seat, her eyes fixed on him. “Oh.” She averted her eyes to look out of the windshield, then gasped. “Oh! We’re here?”

  Clint opened his door, still laughing. “We are indeed. Know why?”

  She didn’t wait for him to come to her door, jumping out and slamming the door behind her. “We aren’t . . . ”

  “We are,” he insisted. He offered her his arm like an old-fashioned gentleman. “Time to get you on the ice, my dear.”

  Bree took his arm but looked up at the Hawks’ arena with apprehension. “I’m not sure about this.”

  “I am,” he told her as they walked in. “No pressure, just us, and all the time in the world. Do you think I would let you fall? Or get hurt in any way?”

  “No.” She hugged his arm to her as if to prove it. “I’m just . . . I’m not very good about potentially embarrassing things.”

  Clint stopped and turned to face her, taking her other hand in his. “Hey, there is nothing embarrassing about learning, okay? If you really don’t want to do this, we’ll leave right now and go do something else tonight. No pressure, I promise.”

  Bree searched his eyes, then looked at the doors to the arena. “No,” she murmured, almost to herself. “No, let’s do this. I want to learn.” She looked back at him, smiling almost believably. “Teach me how to skate, Clint.”

  He gripped her hands tightly in lieu of kissing that sweet smile senseless. “You got it, Breezy.” He winked at her, then continued into the building, taking her to the rink, where he’d stashed the skates he’d brought up earlier in the day.

  “How’d you get the whole arena?” Bree demanded as he laced her skates for her. “There’s got to be community rinks available we could have gone to.”

  “That’s true, there are,” he responded, tying a double knot before looking up at her. “But I couldn’t get those to allow a private lesson. I know people here now, so it was way easier.”

  Bree scoffed a laugh at that, shaking her head. “Unbelievable. That’s so much work just to save my pride.”

  “Have you ever stopped to consider,” he asked as he worked on his own laces, “that it could be my pride I’m saving? I could be the worst skating instructor ever, and what would that do for my professional reputation?”

  “Well, we couldn’t have that.” She shook her head in all seriousness. “So early in your pro career, appearance is everything.”

  He nodded in agreement. “Glad you think so.” His skates were done in a moment, and he helped Bree to her feet. “Careful. You can walk fairly normally on the rubber; the blades aren’t as unstable.”

  She started walking with him, and exhaled a quick laugh. “Such a weird feeling! Almost like wearing heels.”

  Clint hissed a wince, holding her hand as he stepped onto the ice. “Please, Bree, for the love of Pete, don’t compare my career with wearing women’s shoes.”

  Bree threw her head back on a laugh, her throat dancing with it. “Oh my gosh, Clint! That isn’t what I meant.”

  “You said it, not me.” He turned to face her, holding his other hand out. “Although the guys would have a riot with that comparison.”

  “Feel free to share it.” She looked at the ice, then exhaled roughly. “Here goes nothing.” Placing her other hand in his, she stepped out onto the ice, almost slipping immediately. “Whoa!”

  “I’ve got you. Don’t worry, I’ve got you.” He slowly skated backwards, steadying her wildly unbalanced beginning. “Relax. Don’t look at the ice; look at me. It never works if you start off panicking.”

  Bree met his eyes, a mixture of fear and amusement in her hazel eyes. “And how would you know? Have you ever panicked on the ice?”

  He nodded with a smile. “Sure. Five is a very terrifying age for all activities.”

  “Shut up.” She laughed a terrified breath, her grip on his hands almost painful. “Okay, on the ice. Now what?”

  “Relax your knees,” Clint instructed gently. “Feet a little further apart, point your toes slightly out.”

  She struggled to manage that without picking up the skates from the ice, as she would have done on a flat surface, but she eventually got it. “Okay . . . ”

  “Good.” He slowed his glide, using his left hand to grip and indicate her right hand. “With this foot, put a little pressure to propel yourself forward. You can turn it further out for more stability if you need.”

  Bree’s tongue flicked out as she thought it out, twisting her foot almost too far out to the side. “Okay . . . ”

  “And push.”

  She nodded once. “And push.”

  She pushed off, shooting forward with more force than either of them expected, and slammed into his chest, sending them both moving and losing her balance.

  Clint gripped her arms to keep her from falling as he fought for a grip on the ice himself. “Whoa, whoa . . . ”

  She gripped him tightly, her breathing laced with nervous whimpers.

  “I’ve got you,” he insisted, regaining control and stabilizing them both. “Hear me?”

  Bree looked up, and it was only then that he realized that she was right there. Flush against him. Clenching his jacket. Her lips literally hovering beneath his.

  His attention was drawn there, and his own lips buzzed as they felt the faint pant she released. It would be so easy . . . so easy to dip his head and kiss her, gently and thoroughly and for a very long time. Here on the ice, where he was at home, with her in his arms.

  It would be perfect beyond his wildest imagination.

  He dragged his eyes back to hers, only to find her attention on his mouth as well.

  Heaven help him . . .

  “I’ve got you,” he breathed as he held her still.

  “Yeah,” Bree whispered, her eyes dark as they traveled up to his own. Another breathless release of air. “Yeah, you do.”

  Clint was going to die here on this ice. That was the long and short of it, and it was going to happen no matter what he did.

  Death by Bree.

  He cleared his throat, squeezed her arms gently, and slid his hands down to hers as he scooted back. “Let’s try that again, shall we?”

  Bree nodded and pushed herself forward much more confidently, squealing with delight when she did so.

  “Attagirl!” Clint praised, releasing one of her hands, watching her skates. “Don’t lift your skates so much; just let them glide. They’ll fall back into a good push off. Don’t force it.”

  She listened with perfection, bringing her skates parallel at the right times, pushing off with ease and holding his hand with less panic. “How do I go faster?” she asked with a tentative grin.

  “That takes some practice,” he told her, laughing. “But if you trust me . . . ”

  Her smile deepened. “Of course I do.”

  A lump formed in his throat, and he fought to rid himself of it. “Okay.” He moved around behind her, putting his hands on her wais
t. “Hold on.”

  Her hands instantly went on top of his. “Got it.”

  Clint shook his head, exhaling silently to himself. So this was what it felt like to die a glorious death.

  So be it.

  Gently pushing against her, he pushed off the ice and propelled them both forward, murmuring instructions to her while he provided the force as they made their way around the rink. It wasn’t smooth, and it wasn’t graceful, but it was something special. They laughed, they joked, and when they inevitably fell, they got back up together and continued to skate around hand in hand.

  Just because.

  Enough was enough.

  She couldn’t even focus on her schoolwork anymore, Clint was so distracting. Deadlines and internship plans hung over her head, and all she wanted to do was be with Clint. Go to his games, watch his practices, hang out at his place and watch old footage of him, wander around campus aimlessly while she rambled about nothing . . .

  Sitting in class was pure torture these days, and Bree hated that.

  Hated it.

  School was something she had always enjoyed, even if the subject material of her classes hadn’t been particularly thrilling. She loved being a student and loved learning, and she’d inherited that from her dad, at least. She had never, in her entire life, been so distracted by a guy that school became almost insignificant.

  She’d made a habit of silently judging the girls in her high school that had done just that.

  Now here she was doodling in her notebook again rather than listening to Dr. Glass.

  She didn’t even know what the lecture was about today, but she was sure it would be on his final exam.

  Did she care? No.

  Should she care? Probably.

  Would anyone agree with her?

  Not in her house, anyway. Penny and Amy seemed to be living vicariously through her, and the fact that Clint had yet to kiss Bree or Bree to kiss him was literally driving them insane. Penny threatened to show up at their next date with a mob to chant “Kiss, kiss, kiss” until they complied, of all things, though Bree vowed she was going to sneak out for her next date just to keep her roommates in ignorance.

  She didn’t trust Penny not to have a tracking device on Bree somewhere to make it happen regardless.

  Bree was a little frustrated about the situation herself, but it was more than that.

  She was flat out, head over heels, all-the-heart-eyes in love with Clint McCarthy. She hadn’t even kissed the man, and she already knew that. Felt that. Lived with that.

  What exactly that meant was less certain.

  She’d never been in love before, not really. Infatuation, sure, but her experience with guys was limited at best and pathetic at worst. How in the world did anyone know for sure how they felt or what it was or what to do about it?

  The only person she would even consider confiding all this to was Trista, and there was absolutely no way she could tell the wife of a Six Pack member that she, a Six Pack Sib, was in love with another Six Pack Sib. Especially when she had nothing to back it up. The havoc it would wreak among the Six Pack alone made Bree queasy.

  But a more stubborn voice inside of her demanded to know why her life had to be dictated by the Six Pack.

  And that was a very good question.

  She checked her phone as unobtrusively as possible, then gathered her things and slipped out of the classroom, breathing a sigh of relief when she reached the outside. Normally she would never leave class early, but it was the only time her advisor could meet to discuss her progress with the internship she needed to have next semester.

  It would be a short meeting; Bree had no internship set for next semester.

  There were only a few weeks left in the semester, and literally everyone else in her program had something set. She had interviewed for a few places, but nothing felt right; nothing would give her the experience and the education she wanted for her future.

  What exactly she did want was up for debate.

  Figuring that out was something she’d put off all semester.

  She couldn’t put it off any further.

  Shaking her head, Bree zipped up her fleece against the chilly breeze as she crossed the square to her advisor’s building. If all else failed, she could always see if her mother’s nonprofit needed an intern.

  Spending a semester in Baltimore sounded horrible, given that Clint would be in St. Louis, but maybe separation would make things sweeter?

  Or maybe it would end things. If things were going to end anyway, she might as well have it end early.

  The thought brought a stab of icy pain to her chest, and she shook her head as she entered the building and headed down the hall.

  She didn’t want things to end with Clint.

  Maybe ever.

  What did that tell her?

  Her advisor’s office was before her, and Bree knocked softly.

  “Come in.”

  Pushing the door open, she smiled at the woman behind the desk. “Dr. Pershing, you wanted to meet?”

  “Yes, Bree, come on in.” She stood and gestured to a chair across from her. “Sorry to pull you from Dr. Glass’s riveting class, but I’m concerned.”

  Bree sat, sliding her bag to the floor. “About?”

  Dr. Pershing gave her a knowing look. “You have no plans for next semester. This is an internship program, Bree. You have to have some sort of position set up for a majority of the semester.”

  “I know,” Bree sighed, not bothering to hide her reluctance.

  “What’s holding things up?”

  Bree shrugged, then shook herself and sat up, forcing herself to be more confident than the shy little girl she was acting like. To take responsibility for herself. To be the adult she ought to be. “Honestly, I don’t know what I want to do. I don’t know which direction I want to go, and that makes finding an internship hard. I don’t want to waste anybody’s time doing something that won’t help me or something that I don’t like.”

  Dr. Pershing gave her a pitying look. “Nothing is going to be perfect, Bree. It’s about the experience.”

  “But it is also about the network,” Bree insisted. “I’ve read the stats. Most of the candidates wind up getting a job at the same company after their internship, if they’ve done a good job. I haven’t found anything yet that I would want to continue to work at after the semester is done.”

  “I see.” Dr. Pershing sat back, twisting her lips in thought. “Any thoughts at all? Even basic ones?”

  Bree heaved a sigh, her fingers drumming on the arms of the chair. “I think I want to go nonprofit, but that doesn’t exactly narrow things down.”

  “No, it doesn’t. But I do have a decent list of nonprofit connections. If I send it to you, will you promise me you will look into these options? I don’t want you to get into trouble next year because you don’t have a position.”

  “I don’t want that either.” Bree nodded, drumming her fingers once more. “I’ll look into them, absolutely.”

  Dr. Pershing smiled at her and returned her nod. “Good. I think if you give this your undivided attention, you’ll figure something out.”

  Bree tried to return her smile, and she did her best, but something genuine wasn’t possible. She shook her advisor’s hand and left the office, fake smile fading.

  Undivided attention, was it?

  Unfortunately, her undivided attention was focused on Clint McCarthy at the present, and that was going to be particularly difficult to shift.

  If not impossible.

  Bree exhaled through buzzing lips, frowning to herself. Why did everything have to be so confusing? Why couldn’t she compartmentalize and have internship time and Clint time? She could manage dividing herself between the two, couldn’t she?

  Her phone buzzed then, and she reached for it, answering without looking. “Hello?”

  “Hello there,” Clint’s warm voice soothed her, with instant ripples of delight cascading through her. “Busy?”


  “Just got out of a meeting, actually,” she replied with a smile.

  “Ah. Good meeting? Bad meeting?”

  “Neither,” Bree admitted with real honesty. “I don’t have an internship for next semester, and my advisor is concerned. I’ve got to figure something out, or I could be in trouble. Program-wise.”

  Clint made a hissing sound. “Yikes. Can I help?”

  Bree hesitated, then sighed a laugh. “Normally, I would say no, but that actually sounds amazing. Meet me at my place?”

  “On my way. See you soon.”

  She hung up and picked up her pace, her smile spreading without any effort. Maybe she could kill two birds with one stone. Clint could investigate options with her, and for those that were out of the St. Louis area, she could get a decent read on him for if their relationship, whatever it was, could withstand a long-distance stint.

  It was insane how much she hoped it could.

  The walk back to her apartment was quick, and the sight of Clint’s blue truck made her smile. There was no reason whatsoever for him to have a truck, but he loved it, and it seemed to fit him.

  He was sitting in his truck, apparently waiting for her, and when she was close enough, he got out, pushing his sunglasses back on his head and grinning at her with all his glorious attractiveness. “Hey, you.”

  “Hey yourself.” Her voice almost broke seeing him, for no reason whatsoever, and she cleared her throat, swallowing hard.

  Clint’s expression softened. “Need a hug?”

  “Always.” She moved into his open arms without hesitation, sighing in delighted relief when his arms cradled her tight against his broad chest. No matter what was going on in her life, no matter how stressed she might be, everything was right when she was in Clint’s arms.

  Absolutely everything.

  “You okay?” Clint asked softly as his hands ran up and down her back.

  The motions were doing less to soothe her and more to distract her, and it was all she could do to keep from arching like a cat into him in encouragement. Nobody needed her to do that. There was no telling where it would lead.

  But what an intriguing idea . . .

  “Yep,” she said with a quick snap to her voice, pulling back and grinning at him. “I just like hugging you.”