Faceoff

by Rebecca Connolly

  Bree had laid everything out for the guys, a game plan for getting Northbrook back on its feet, ideas for advertising, outreach projects she was looking into, and even some thoughts on generating revenue in a way that could conceivably make a difference there. She had listened to their thoughts and ideas, written every single one down, and built upon them. Every concern they had brought up, she had an answer for and had already considered.

  He hadn’t just been trying to bolster her a moment ago; she really was that impressive. He had seen Bree in her element, alive with ideas and plans and goals. She had taken charge without ever announcing she was doing so, and she had put things in order in a way that would have taken the six of them ages to do.

  He couldn’t remember what each of her focuses were, but the tiered approach she had presented had been genius. More than that, it had been professional, and it felt right.

  Everything felt right.

  Clint looked over at the remarkable woman beside him, now completely engrossed in her work once more, that adorable furrow back in place.

  “What are you working on now?”

  “Gala invites,” she answered while gnawing on her lip. “And going through old photos of the facilities and clubs to find what would work best.”

  “At the same time?” he laughed in a low tone.

  She smiled without looking up. “Multitasking, babe. It’s my superpower. Plus your sister-in-law offered to actually plan the gala, so I’m prepping files for her. Fantastic that she’s got a wedding planner in her family, you know?”

  Clint nodded sagely, though he wasn’t entirely sure which of his sisters-in-law she was talking about. Definitely not Rachel, it was safe to say, but he couldn’t remember the details of the extended families of the other two. He loved them, of course, and they were fantastic partners for his brothers. He just didn’t know which of the two would actually want to plan this thing in such a short amount of time.

  He’d find out when one of his brothers called to get after him for saddling his wife with so much work.

  “Anything I can do to help?” he offered as he continued to rub through her feet, loving the experience of touching her like this, keeping connected with her even while her mind was elsewhere.

  “You’re helping a lot right now. Besides, you played an amazing game today. Take a breather.”

  He smiled at her, though she wasn’t looking. “It’s great to have you at the games even with everything you’re working on.”

  That made her smile, her attention still on her work. “I’m not missing a single home game. My man is a star, and I have no problem letting the world know it.”

  Her man.

  No position, title, or label had ever sounded so perfect to his ears. That was what he wanted above all else, above his career, saving Northbrook, or any other ambition he might have for himself.

  He wanted Bree. He wanted to be hers.

  Being here with her, just like this, felt more right than any feeling he had ever known in his entire life. Sitting together after a long day, not even doing anything, but just being . . .

  He could be with her just like this for the rest of his life.

  He wanted to be.

  This comfortable. This simple.

  This beautiful.

  And suddenly he couldn’t wait one moment more.

  “Bree?”

  Her sprints of typing continued. “Hmm?”

  Clint swallowed hard, his eyes on her. “I love you.”

  “’Kay.”

  He raised a brow, fighting a smile at the absent response, and dug his thumb into the sole of one foot hard.

  The typing stopped, and Bree’s eyes froze on the screen. Her toes flexed against his hand, and then her chin jerked up, her eyes wide. “Wait, what?”

  He smiled fully at her, his hands resting now on her feet, holding them in place. “I love you,” he said again.

  Bree stared at him, her chest moving unsteadily with every breath beneath her tank top, the unbuttoned sides of the overlaying flannel shirt almost waving with the motion. Keeping her eyes on him, she slid her laptop back over on his coffee table, gently tugged her feet out of his hold, then pushed up on her knees.

  He turned towards her, anticipation pumping through his veins.

  Bree laced her fingers at the back of his head, then pulled him to her for a hard, deep, completely thorough kiss that unmanned him from head to toe. “I love you too,” she whispered, when she let him up for air or thought. “So much. So much it scares me.”

  His hands, hovering at her waist in his state of suspended euphoria, now wrapped around her and pulled her body closer. “Don’t be scared,” he murmured, still fighting for breath. “I’m in this with you. We’re together every step of the way. I’m all in for you, Bree.”

  Her grip on his head tightened, and she gave him another fierce kiss, her fear and exhilaration tangible in her lips and in the taste of her. “I’m all in too. Wherever this goes, you’ve got me, okay?” She folded her arms around his neck and buried her face into his shoulder. “You’ve got me.”

  Clint cradled her against him, turning her so she sat across his lap, content just to hold her this tightly, this possessively, for the rest of his life. “I’ve got you, Bree,” he whispered into her hair. “I’ve got you.”

  She nodded against him and sighed, leaning into him more fully.

  They held onto each other for what could have been hours, Clint wasn’t about to keep track of the time. Bree was so relaxed against him, yet her arms never wavered in their hold on him. He didn’t mind; this was undoubtedly the best he had ever felt in his entire life, and he doubted anything in the world would ever top it.

  It couldn’t.

  “Not that I’m complaining,” Clint murmured, pressing his lips to Bree’s ear, “because this is the best part of my day . . . ”

  She snickered against him, then pulled back, lacing her hands behind his neck and leaning back against his arms. “I should hope so . . . ”

  “But are you going to work any more tonight?” he went on, ignoring her comment completely.

  Bree shook her head firmly. “Nope. I’m done for.”

  Clint chuckled and leaned in for a soft kiss that made her hum. “Poor you.”

  “Do you want me to do more work?” she asked with a raise of a brow. “I can, if you’d rather I move . . . ”

  “Don’t you dare,” he warned as he clamped his hands more firmly around her, keeping her in place. “I just don’t want you to be stressed out if you don’t get stuff done.”

  Bree shrugged in his hold, her fingers moving up to play in the hair at the back of his head. “Most of the work is done tonight. I was just working ahead. Penny’s doing all the social media and promo stuff, and the gala details aren’t really on my plate anymore . . . ”

  “Good,” he grunted, shifting her closer. “I don’t want you to take too much on, even if you are Superwoman.”

  “Trust me, I’m not.” She smiled at him, her fingers still sending sparks down his spine. “Got any ideas for making this all take off?”

  He pretended to think about that. “Hmm . . . I could start a social media campaign with stupid athlete videos. Grizz might do it with me, if I blackmail him.”

  Her hand smacked lightly against the back of his head, which made him laugh. “Oh, like that would do any good,” she drawled, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She shook her head, sighing at him. “You’re such a dork.”

  “Guilty.” He gave her a cheeky grin, then ran a gentle hand over her hair. “Can I ask you something?”

  “You keep playing with my hair and you can ask me anything,” she practically purred.

  Clint laughed and moved his hand back through her hair. “You said in the meeting you wanted to start a nonprofit, but we never got back around to that. What are you thinking, babe?”

  Bree sobered and slid one of her hands down to his chest, fiddling with the buttons and collar of his Henley. “I want to do what
we’re doing with Northbrook.”

  “Saving hockey clubs in trouble?”

  She dipped her chin in a nod. “Not just hockey, though. All clubs. Any activity organization in trouble. I want to provide temporary funding, sponsorship, business analysis, management strategies, restructuring . . . whatever is needed, really. I want to be the group that keeps sports programs from dying out. I want to restore these programs to their communities. Breathe new life into them.”

  Clint stared at the incredible woman in his arms, marveling at the idea and at her dedication to such a cause. He would never have thought of any such thing, but she had taken a situation that had been brought to his attention and not only come up with a plan for it but found a passion in it to fuel her future. She was going to make a world of difference in the lives of so many, and he had no doubts at all that she would not only be successful but thrive.

  “What do you think?” Bree murmured, her eyes and fingers still on his collar.

  He shook his head in disbelief and placed a finger under her chin, tilting her face up to his. “I think you are brilliant,” he told her, stroking the tender skin. “I think it’s a fantastic idea, and I fully support everything about it. I think you are going to change the world, and I think I am the luckiest guy in the world to be so in love with you.”

  Bree’s lips curved into a small smile, relief setting into every feature. “Yeah, you’re pretty lucky.”

  That made him laugh out loud, which made Bree giggle in his arms. “Thank you very much.”

  “You’re lucky,” she said again, tugging at his collar, her smile turning into something playful and seductive that made his breath catch, her eyes darker than he could ever remember them being, “because I happen to be ridiculously in love with you. And I have never said that to anyone before. Just you.”

  For some reason, that did Clint in more than anything he had heard yet, and he pulled Bree in, his mouth finding hers with a familiarity and ease that warmed him. Her lips were soft and pliable but eager and wanting. She curved into him, her soft sighs and sounds snapping every ounce of sanity he possessed, pulling him further and further into the incomparable, addictive mystery of all that she was.

  Bree suddenly pulled back and sat up with a heavy, satisfied sigh. “Well, it’s getting late. I better get home so you can get a good night’s sleep before practice tomorrow.”

  Still burning in various scattered parts of him, Clint stared at her in shock while she collected her things and put on her shoes. “What?”

  She turned to look at him, expression superior and teasing. “I told you I would get you back, babe. Don’t start a fire you aren’t going to put out.” She quirked her brows, blew him a kiss, then strode to the door.

  “Let me walk you out,” he sighed, pushing himself up.

  She turned on the spot, backing towards the door. “I think you’ve had enough kisses for one night, Fido. You stay right there.” She gave him a warning look and left without another look or word for him.

  He loved that woman, and it was a good thing he did.

  That was a dirty trick.

  Funny, deserved, but dirty.

  He exhaled slowly, shaking his head, and leaned back on the couch, closing his eyes and going through the events of the day again. Amazing how his game had been the minor footnote in the day but had been one of his better games yet. He didn’t mind one bit, particularly with what Bree had planned for Northbrook.

  His eyes snapped open as a particular thought lodged itself into his mind, and the moment it solidified, he sat up and grabbed his phone, scrolling through his contacts and hitting the call button in a matter of seconds.

  “Penny? It’s Clint. Bree’s on her way there, so we only have a minute. Tell me what you think about starting a social media campaign for all of this.”

  He smiled at her response. “Well, I’m glad you asked. Here’s what I was thinking . . . ”

  Weeks of planning, hours of research, days of running around, and it all led up to this.

  This night.

  This event.

  No pressure.

  Bree shivered despite already being inside the Chicago hotel where the gala was being held, and the room being a warm enough temperature for a bitter-cold day after Thanksgiving. It was just the anticipation of the event and the fear that none of this would work.

  After all of the work that she had put in, and her friends had put in, what if they fell short of their goals?

  “Don’t do that.”

  Bree turned to look at Penny, coming towards her in an elegant slate-blue gown that turned her into a goddess. “Do what?”

  Penny gave her a look. “You’re frowning, which means you’re thinking, which means you are worrying. Don’t do any of that.”

  “I’ll try not to,” Bree murmured with an apologetic smile.

  “This is fantastic,” Penny assured her. “Clint’s sister-in-law and her team did an amazing job with the setup and décor, and the throwback pictures of Northbrook are incredible! It’s a great touch.”

  “Thanks.” Bree bit her lip, looking around one more time, positive she would find some glaring fault in all of this before the guests arrived. Fifty tables in the dining room with eight chairs apiece, five hundred dollars a plate. Each table had been perfectly set, draped with white linen and a green satin square underneath the centerpieces for Northbrook’s colors. They’d even gone so far as to have centerpieces featuring the Northbrook Elite mascot, the Sabercat. The chandeliers sparkled brilliantly, and the white-and-green accent lighting on the walls added an almost mystical touch. The bar was set, with a dozen tall tables set up around there, and the tribute gallery had been fidgeted with so many times she’d made herself walk away.

  The hotel was an exquisite setting, and the decor somehow managed to be elegant and honorific at this same time.

  For an elite hockey club, of all things.

  “Stop it,” Penny warned. “You’ll offset your rockin’ look entirely if you have that pucker there all night.” She pointed a finger at Bree’s forehead, even tapping it softly. “Come on, we have done everything we can, and now it is out of our hands. And by the way, I would kill to look that good in anything.” She stepped back and gestured to Bree in disbelief.

  An uncomfortable, embarrassed blush rose on every conceivable inch of Bree’s skin, and she rubbed her bare arms, averting her gaze. “Thanks. Trista flew out and took me shopping. Made me get a makeover. I think it works.”

  Penny scoffed loudly, which was the only way she ever did. “Uh, yeah!”

  Bree smiled to herself and glanced down at her dress. It really was a gorgeous gown, and she would never have purchased anything so expensive on her own. But Trista insisted, and Trista bought it, and there was nothing Bree could do about it.

  She was secretly glad of it.

  The berry-colored gown was sleek and formfitting without being shocking, and the skirts flowed from the bottom of her hips to the floor. Black-lace overlay covered the entirety, including a sheer section from neckline to bodice, with small clumps of beaded black flowers scattered throughout. It was sleeveless, and the sheerness extended around and down to her mid-back. The skirts swished just a little when she moved, and the entire ensemble was shockingly comfortable, which was a bonus to the overall appearance of it.

  Trista had had her glam squad give Bree a loose, asymmetrical chignon with the occasional curled tendril hanging down, which left her feeling like the whole thing would come undone in a moment. She had been repeatedly assured that it would not, but she wasn’t so sure. Add to all of that her makeup, which had blessedly been relatively neutral, aside from a smoky eyeshadow look, and Bree barely felt like herself.

  In a good way.

  If that was a thing.

  Bree exhaled slowly and managed a smile at Penny. “Ready to be surrounded by former, current, and future hockey players?”

  Her roommate flashed a quick grin. “I was born for this moment. I’m just going to go
get Amy before she fusses over the family-fun section any further, okay?”

  “Sounds good.” Bree nodded and waved her on before turning to the nearest table and running her hand over the linen. Part of her wanted to stand at the entrance to the room and welcome people as they came in, but that was what the hotel staff was for. She wasn’t supposed to micromanage the evening, as everything and everyone was in place to ensure the event ran smoothly.

  Now if only she could breathe.

  She shook her head, moving over to the bar, fighting the urge to get herself a drink before the event started.

  Nobody would need that.

  “Wow . . . ”

  Bree looked up, her smile spreading before her eyes took in the gorgeous sight of Clint McCarthy in a well-fitted tux. His blue eyes were wide as they slowly ran the length of her up and down, raising another blush on her skin. She smiled to herself at his not-quite-clean-shaven appearance and wondered, faintly, how many women would fan themselves over his picture when the photos from the event went out.

  But he was hers.

  And that made her smile further still.

  “You’re not so bad yourself,” she informed him as she saw his corded throat working.

  He met her gaze then, a small smile appearing. “I’m no match for you, and that’s the truth.” He came over to her, put a hand at her upper arm, and pressed a tender kiss to her brow. “I can’t feel my knees, Bree,” he whispered against her skin. “That’s how beautiful you are.”

  She shivered, then pressed a quick kiss to his jaw, relieved when her lip color left no trace there. “Sorry not sorry,” she whispered back.

  Clint chuckled and held her close for a minute. She could feel the slight tremors in him, and she hugged herself closer because of it. He pulled back and stooped a little to meet her gaze squarely. “You ready for this?”

  Bree gave him a shaky nod and an even shakier smile. “I think so. How are things outside?”

  “Great. There’s already lots of press, which makes curious people come over, and if I had my way, you and I would go back outside together and do a proper red-carpet entrance.”

  “No way,” Bree said, shaking her head. “I’ll pose with you for a few in here if I have to, but not out there.”