Faceoff (Northbrook Hockey Elite Book 1) Read online

  Maybe.

  A knock at the door had her springing up from the couch with a combination of a gasp and a shriek. Her eyes darted to the clock, and her stomach settled only a little.

  It was time.

  She moved to the door and opened it wide.

  Clint stood there, gorgeous and rugged with his scruff, and his crooked smile made her heart flip-flop.

  There was nothing for a sentient female to do but sigh at a man looking at her like that. “Hey.”

  He stepped closer and took her gently by the waist, pulling her close. “Hey,” he murmured just before his lips descended on hers, a soft, slow, stomach-igniting kiss.

  He pulled back just as she started to lean in, then chuckled at her pout. “That is not nice,” she scolded.

  Clint winked, his thumb dipping at her lower lip before dragging to her chin. “Maybe not, but I couldn’t resist. You can get back at me later.”

  Bree scowled and smacked his back as he passed her for the couch, shrugging out of his leather jacket. “I will, too, as soon as I figure out where and how to strike.”

  He raised a brow as he sat. “I’ll be on the lookout, then.”

  “Won’t help. I’m way sneakier than you know.”

  His slow grin prompted one of her own. “Now, that sounds promising.”

  Bree only gave a suggestive quirk of her brows. “Doesn’t it, though?”

  Their rather tantalizing banter was interrupted by the unmistakable sound of a FaceTime call coming in.

  Right. Business.

  Clint pulled out a tablet and propped it up on the table, pressing the answer button. On cue, five squares appeared, only two of which were currently filled with faces. The rest were pastel colors with a single letter in the center.

  “What in the world?” Bree muttered, coming over to investigate.

  “Group call,” Clint explained with a laugh. “So much easier than trying to use multiple devices. And this way, everyone can actually see you, which is all the better for them.”

  Bree frowned and lightly whacked his arm.

  “YES!” one of the faces on the tablet cheered. “Hit him again!”

  “Hey!” Clint protested.

  The guy shrugged, his head tilting in just the right way to reveal a tidy man bun, despite the short hair at the sides of his head. “Sorry, I was caught up in the moment.” He grinned and waved at Bree. “Hi there. Zane Winchester.”

  Bree gave him a tight smile. “Bree Stone. And . . . I was at the Hounds-Hawks game.”

  “Yeesh.” He flattened his mouth out in a comical manner, his neck straining with it, his dark scruff even darker with the shadows. “My bad. Um . . . Normally, I am much better behaved than that.”

  “No, you’re not,” the other square laughed. “Hi, Bree. I’m Jax.”

  Bree waved, her smile easier this time. “Hey. Nice beard.”

  Jax laughed and stroked it proudly. “I know, right?”

  “Question,” Zane asked, raising a finger. “Do you condition that thing?”

  One of the other squares dinged, and another face appeared, this one more tanned, his eyes and hair darker by far than the others. “Party’s here!” he exclaimed. Then, seeing Bree, he smiled. “Oh . . . Hi there.”

  Clint rolled his eyes with a groan. “Bree, that’s Rocco. Ignore him.”

  “Yep, ignore him,” Zane agreed.

  “And him,” Clint added.

  The other two squares winked on then, and Bree exhaled slowly. “That’s everybody, right?”

  “Yep. So Jax, Zane, Rocco, Declan, and Trane,” he recited, pointing to each in turn. “Guys, this is Bree.”

  “Hi, Bree,” they all said in unison.

  She snorted softly. “Suddenly this meeting took a very different turn . . . ”

  “I like her,” Trane pointed out amid the easy laughter from the rest.

  “Good for you,” Clint shot back.

  Bree shook her head in amusement and resignation.

  Boys.

  “Okay, I don’t want to take up too much of your time,” she said, her voice turning formal, “so I’m just going to get right down to it. Clint told me about what’s going on with Northbrook, and having been raised in a sports-loving family myself, I wanted to help.”

  “Wait, wait, wait . . . ” Zane interrupted, his eyes widening. “You’re not Ryker Stone’s sister, are you?”

  Bree sighed and nodded. “Yep.”

  “Dude!” at least three of the guys said at the same time, now looking at Clint with new appreciation.

  “The Ryker Stone fan club doesn’t meet until after this,” Clint told them all firmly, his mouth curving in a smile. “Can it.”

  There were several snickers and scowls at that.

  “Anyway,” Bree went on, clearing her throat, “I should preface: I’m getting a master’s in public administration, and my undergrad was business with a finance minor.”

  Someone whistled low in appreciation, and she took a moment to nod her thanks, which made them smile.

  “Basically, I’ve been going over numbers and data for a week nonstop.” She smiled over at Clint briefly. “My boyfriend is getting a little annoyed about it.”

  He coughed in mock dismay but put his arm around her anyway. “Never in a million years, babe.”

  “Cute,” Rocco said blandly. “Moving on.”

  Bree returned her attention to them, turning serious. “I’ve been emailing back and forth with Mr. White, and I may have something that will work. Still working out several kinks, and there will probably be more popping up as we go. But . . . I want to start a nonprofit.”

  She was met with five blank stares. Six, if one counted Clint.

  “Northbrook is already a business,” Jax pointed out, his frown visible even through his beard. “Its own entity. It doesn’t need . . . ”

  “I know,” Bree overrode, an apology in her eyes. “I’m not trying to take over Northbrook or anything; I just think it needs help. And then it needs sustaining. At the moment, though, it’s out of money and out of support. That’s the hurdle we’re facing at the present, and I’ve been working it out with my roommates, who are in public relations, advertising, organizational leadership, and business management.”

  Declan sputtered softly. “Dang . . . ”

  Bree smiled. “We’ve decided that there is a simple multistep process we can implement to keep Northbrook from folding and then restore it to what it was. The first focus is going to be temporary funding.”

  “Makes sense,” Jax broke in with a nod. “But that’s where the hang-up is.”

  “Not if we get creative,” Bree countered firmly. “Between the seven of us, I think we can pull enough family, friends, and alumni alone to give us a big step.”

  “And do what?” Zane asked. “Ask for donations?”

  “Kind of.” Bree smiled, her excitement for the idea growing. She just needed them to catch on. “A fundraising event. A gala, if you will. Something big in Chicago, full fancy dress, red carpet, big names, the works. A night honoring Northbrook as it was and as it could be.”

  Clint released a thoughtful grunt of consideration. “I like it. Is one event going to be enough, though?”

  “I doubt it,” Trane said, looking less enthused. “They’re deep in the hole financially.”

  “Correct,” Bree agreed. “Which is where you guys come in.”

  “Jax is the moneybags,” Zane pointed out at once.

  It seemed that every other guy rolled his eyes at that, making Bree laugh. “That’s not quite what I meant.”

  “Thank you,” Jax retorted, looking a little redder at the moment.

  “Then what?” Rocco asked her, leaning forward on the table he sat at.

  Bree gave them all a quick grin. “Your influence.”

  “I’m listening,” Zane replied with a smile.

  “You all have connections in the hockey community,” she explained. “And hockey fans. This is all about saving a hockey prog
ram. People need to see their own peewee years in Northbrook. They need to feel that this club could be their club. We need public support.”

  She looked at each of them directly now. “This is your story. Time to share it. Anybody have objections to being in a video we plan to make viral?”

  “Nope,” most of them said.

  Trane, however, looked hesitant. “Maybe,” he said slowly. “My story is a little different.”

  “Fair enough,” Bree replied, trying for an understanding smile. “Can you work up something for me about what you’re comfortable talking about or being asked?”

  “Absolutely.” He nodded firmly and returned her smile.

  “Focus two,” she went on, “getting back to community basics. We have to remind them what Northbrook has done and can do. Again, we need attention. Fundraising buys us time; we need a regular cash flow.”

  “What about doing some camps at the facility?” Jax suggested. “I’m in the area; it would be easy enough to make happen.”

  Bree pulled her notebook from the table and jotted it down. “Perfect! Would you mind looking into that and taking it on?”

  “No problem.”

  “You’re going to need a functioning board at Northbrook,” Clint reminded her. “Mr. White is the only one right now.”

  She looked at him with a shy smile. “I know. I kind of already put your dad in charge of recruiting for that.”

  “What?” He burst out laughing while the others cheered.

  Bree eyed their reactions, her smile growing.

  “Papa McCarthy is on it!” Declan exclaimed, pumping a well-muscled arm into the air.

  Bree bit her lip, returning her attention to Clint. “And your mom is canvassing local businesses.”

  Now Clint fell back against the couch, his hands going over his face as he laughed.

  “This is a beautiful thing,” Rocco said with a sigh. “Any time you want to do anything behind Clint’s back, I’m in.”

  “Thank you,” Bree told him dryly. She looked down at her notes. “Oh, and I was wondering . . . ”

  Clint dropped his hands. “Uh-huh . . . ”

  She glanced over at him. “What if we pulled our strings?”

  He slowly sat up, a faint furrow between his brows. “The Six Pack?”

  “Uh-huh. They should all be able to come to the gala, in theory. They pull a lot of weight in the media, and if Cole can get a certain someone with certain credentials to help us with certain media outlets . . . ”

  Clint was already nodding, his smile bright. “She totally would. And if you can get a certain mega star to attend . . . ”

  “She absolutely would.”

  “Talking in code is only fun if everyone knows it,” Zane announced with childlike whining.

  “Daddy!”

  All conversations stopped, and all pairs of eyes were fixed on the screens before them.

  Except for one.

  “Yeah, baby?” Zane called over his shoulder.

  “I can’t find Princess Dolly, and I’ve looked everywhere.” A little girl with bouncing brown pigtails and a pink-on-pink ensemble ambled into their view of Zane, startling every single one of them.

  Zane smiled and waved her over. “We’ll go on a hunt for her when Daddy is finished with his call, okay? Want to say hi?”

  The little girl climbed up onto Zane’s lap, and he adjusted his camera to center them both.

  “Hi there,” Bree said after getting over the shock. “What’s your name?”

  “Hope,” came the confident reply. “Daddy, are these your friends?”

  Zane nodded, his demeanor completely softened now that she was there. “Yep. Daddy learned how to play hockey with these guys.”

  “Even the girl?”

  That broke the ice perfectly, and they laughed. “No, honey, that’s Bree. She’s a new friend.”

  Bree felt her wariness about Zane melting away by the moment, and she grinned at the precocious little girl. “Hey, Hope, how old are you?”

  Hope held up a hand with all five fingers extended.

  “Five?” Bree confirmed. “That’s the perfect age. Hope, can I ask you a favor?”

  Hope’s eyes brightened, and she nodded eagerly.

  “Will you come to a big, fancy party I’m having with your dad and all of these guys? I could use another girl around, you know?”

  The little girl gasped and turned to her dad. “Can I, Daddy? Please?”

  Zane looked at Bree uncertainly. “You sure? Not quite a gala with . . . ”

  “Completely sure,” Bree replied. “The more the merrier. Besides, Northbrook’s always been about family, right?”

  Five grins met hers on the screen. “Right.”

  “Thanks, Tyson. I owe you.”

  Clint smiled as he ended the call, putting his phone down on the armrest.

  “That sounded promising.”

  He looked over at Bree, sitting against the opposite armrest of his couch, her bare feet tucked against his thigh, her attention completely devoted to her laptop. He smiled to himself as her fingers flew across the keys at an incredible pace, a wrinkle creasing her brow. “Tyson says he’ll take care of it. I guess the guys from his year are still in good contact, and he’s the unofficial leader. He’s got a huge alumni list, guys that I had completely forgotten about.”

  “Perfect,” Bree answered without looking up. “Does he think they’ll come?”

  “He said he’ll make them.”

  Bree’s hazel eyes flicked up to his with a smile. “Really?”

  Clint nodded, then reached for Bree’s feet and pulled them into his lap, tugging a leg to bring her closer.

  “I can’t come much further and be upright,” she laughed, one foot pushing against him playfully.

  “So don’t be upright.”

  That earned him a dark look that made him laugh.

  “Fine, fine, I’ll come to you.” He made a show of scooting closer, though it was only a matter of inches. He ran his hand over her ankles soothingly, then picked up one foot and began to rub, kneading the sole with his thumbs.

  “Mmm,” Bree moaned, biting her lip. “My gosh, that feels good. But you had a game tonight; you don’t need to do this.”

  “Sure I do.”

  She hissed as he hit a particularly tender spot, prompting him to work at it a bit more. “But aren’t you tired and sore?”

  Clint shrugged. “A little of both, but I’m comfortable sitting here, and you’re hard at work. I might as well help you relax and feel better. You’ve been under a lot of stress lately.”

  “Has it been that obvious?” she asked softly, a smile still on her lips, concern in her voice.

  “No,” he assured her, his fingers moving up to work through her toes. “I just noticed. And after that meeting today, I realized just how much you were getting done.”

  Bree made a quiet, noncommittal noise. “I wasn’t doing it by myself. Penny and Amy have been working just as hard, and Mr. White has been on top of it, not to mention . . . ”

  “Stop,” Clint told her gently. “Give yourself some credit, hon. This is a huge undertaking, and you are nailing it.” He flashed a quick grin. “Besides, I wouldn’t want to rub anyone else’s feet but yours.”

  “I’d have to hurt you if you did.” She returned his smile, then sighed. “I don’t know about nailing it, honestly. Like I said in the meeting, I have no guarantee that any of this will work.”

  “Northbrook?”

  Her eyes lifted to his. “Any of it. The fundraiser should work, sure, but this was never a question about raising money right away. This is a long game we have to play, and I feel like we’re scrambling for the first bit.”

  Clint continued to rub her feet tenderly, pressing harder when he found a good spot, watching her reactions to guide his attentions. She was far more stressed than she was letting on, but her feet were certainly revealing a certain level of tension she never would have vocalized.

  “The first
part of the game is always a mad rush,” he reminded her. “Faceoff is intense, first plays set the tone, and we want to get everything done right away.”

  Bree nodded, folding her arms against herself. “Yeah. I just . . . What if I can’t pull this off?”

  “Is that what’s worrying you?”

  Again, she nodded, and this time he saw her throat work on a swallow.

  He held out a hand and beckoned her. “Come here.”

  She set her laptop aside and crawled over to him, resting on her knees beside him on the couch.

  He took her face in his hands, forcing her eyes to meet his. His thumb stroked her cheek without thinking, and she leaned into his touch.

  “No matter what happens,” he told her gently, “you are extraordinary, and I am so proud of you. Beyond proud. I want to throw you a freaking parade just for being you.”

  Bree scoffed softly and rolled her eyes, but she pressed one of her hands to his while it rested on her face.

  Clint smiled. “Do you want to know what The Pit had to say after your meeting today, before we all went off to our games? They wanted to know how I managed to find you, asked if you were real, and begged me to tell you that they will do absolutely anything you ask them to do. In case that wasn’t already clear from how they were jumping to volunteer for things in your focus areas.”

  Her eyes lit up, searching his with an eagerness that warmed his heart. “Really?”

  “Really,” he confirmed with a sage nod. “I promise you, no matter what happens, you are still amazing, incredible, and brilliant. If Northbrook goes under after all of this, we can say we went down fighting. And it won’t change anything for me, you know. About you.”

  Bree’s smile turned almost dreamy before she leaned forward and kissed him, her lips capturing his over and over again in a slow, sensual dance. She hummed a small laugh and touched her brow to his, then surprised him with a quick kiss to his brow before returning to her spot on the couch and grabbing her laptop once more. Then she propped her feet back in his lap again.

  “Really?” he asked with a laugh, taking up the other foot to begin working on it.

  Bree’s slender shoulders lifted in a shrug, her mouth curving to one side. “You can’t leave me unbalanced.”

  “Heaven forbid.”