Faceoff (Northbrook Hockey Elite Book 1) Page 5

He hadn’t expected this, and he found himself mentally backpedaling faster than he could physically backpedal. “Uhhh . . . just a question. If you don’t want to answer that, pick another.”

  “Ask me how my churro is.”

  He snorted a laugh but turned to her and plastered a polite smile on his face. “How is your churro, Bree?”

  She shrugged a shoulder. “Not bad. Pretty good for concession-stand food, but I’ve had better.” She smiled with what seemed to be real amusement, which made him want to laugh, which made even the conversation about churros significant. “You want to try some?”

  Habit told him to politely decline, to let her continue to enjoy it alone and to keep going with the awkward yet polite conversation he was enjoying so much, but mischief outbid habit this time. Clint ripped off the top bit of churro and popped it into his mouth, nodding in thought as he chewed. “Not half bad.”

  Bree giggled and covered her face with one hand. “Oh my gosh, Clint.”

  “What?” he asked around the mouthful of churro. “You offered.”

  “I know, but I didn’t think you’d . . . Never mind.” She dropped her hand and grinned at him. “What else do you want to ask me?”

  What else? At least a thousand and three questions just to figure out who the girl he had known had become and why he was so fascinated with her. What she’d been doing since they’d seen each other last, whenever that had been, and what she was doing now. What she wanted to do, where she wanted to go, and strangely enough, if she knew anything at all about hockey.

  He didn’t know if he wanted her to know a lot or nothing at all.

  “Will you come to my first game next week?”

  Wait, what? Why was that the question that had come out of his mouth? He wanted her to come, absolutely, but he’d been planning to work up to that, maybe get the invitation in by the end of the night.

  Definitely not in the first hour of seeing her again.

  But he couldn’t take it back, so he sat there like an idiot, staring at her with a mixture of terror and hope.

  Bree’s smile was surprisingly soft, her hazel eyes almost dancing. “Yeah.”

  Clint gaped, his mouth literally falling open. “Really? You’ll come?”

  Now Bree laughed, tearing off another piece of churro and gesturing with it. “Sure!” she said, plopping the churro piece into her mouth, somehow still smiling while chewing it.

  There was something he didn’t quite trust about that smile. Her answer had come too easily, not that it was a big deal to come to a hockey game, of all things. Bree didn’t know him all that well anymore, really, despite the current feeling of renewed friendship and new interest.

  Something was up.

  Clint narrowed his eyes at her. “Ryker already invited you, didn’t he?”

  Bree’s smile slowly spread to a grin, tension in his chest tightening with every degree. “Yep.”

  Of course he had. Clint shook his head. “Unbelievable.”

  “Sorry.” Bree shrugged. “This way he combines a visit to see you with a visit to see me. He’s opportunistic.”

  That was one way of putting it, but Clint wasn’t about to let Ryker take the victory out of Clint’s first game before a single goal was scored.

  He quirked his brows. “So am I.” He tugged his phone out of his back pocket and waved it at Bree. “Time for a Six Pack selfie?”

  “Absolutely.” On cue, Bree scooted closer, and Clint’s throat dried unexpectedly.

  Bree Stone making his throat dry.

  Absolutely bizarre.

  Swallowing against the Sahara, Clint held up his phone, framing himself and the beautiful woman beside him perfectly into frame. “Smile or silly?” he heard himself ask, his pulse leaping as she brushed against his arm, the cinnamon-infused lavender scent of her dancing in his senses.

  “Both,” Bree said firmly, smiling at the camera.

  “’Kay.” Forcing himself to smile, he snapped a picture, willing himself not to blink at the image of the two of them smiling together.

  Good grief, he was losing his mind.

  “Okay, have at,” he ordered, more at himself than at Bree.

  What followed was a series of at least seven stupid faces between the pair of them, pictures occurring for each one and a few times between. They laughed at each of them, Bree insisted he delete at least three, and he only deleted one. He did let her pick which stupid one went to the guys, and then they sat waiting, staring at his phone.

  Anyone else seeing them would have thought they were phone addicts or completely uninterested in the basketball game. They were, but not for the reasons other people thought.

  If there was one thing any Six Pack Sib knew, it was that none of the guys was ever far from their phone, and responses would rapidly fly once they began.

  Yet again, they did not disappoint.

  Axel: BREE!

  Sawyer: Breezy!

  Cole: Who’s the ugly guy with my little sister?

  Grizz: It’s Bree!

  Ryker: Dawg, she’s not your sister.

  Ryker: Hi, sis!

  Levi: Oh look, all, it’s what’s-his-name!

  Clint scowled playfully at the phone. “Why do they like you more than me?”

  “Aww, feeling left out?” she teased, typing out a quick reply on her phone.

  “Kinda, yeah.”

  Bree: Hi, boys!

  Cole: What are you doing with that guy?

  Clint: Thanks, guys. Thanks a lot. Might need to change my shirt now.

  Sawyer: DON’T YOU DARE.

  Axel: You wouldn’t . . .

  Grizz: I’ll disown you.

  Bree: Wow, defensive much? We’re proudly repping a school we didn’t even go to.

  Sawyer: The shirt is great, we love it. It’s your date we question.

  Clint coughed in surprise, shaking his head. “Unreal, absolutely unreal.”

  Bree rolled her eyes at him. “Come on, you knew it was going there. They have the maturity of thirteen-year-olds.”

  “True, but still.” He glanced behind him at his teammates, then leaned closer to Bree. “Don’t tell Fig we’re texting your brother. He might cry.”

  She snorted a soft laugh, returning her attention to the phone.

  Ryker: Yeah, this isn’t what I meant when I said I wanted you to get out more.

  Bree: We are NOT having that conversation on here!

  Axel: Maybe we should.

  Cole: Yeah, if you’re out with Clint, we def should.

  Bree: Be nice to Clint, we just bumped into each other.

  Levi: And he doesn’t have any friends, right?

  “Are you guys texting each other while sitting next to each other?” Hotch asked, leaning between the two of them. “That’s totes adorbs.”

  Bree leaned back to look up at him in dismay. “What are you, a fourteen-year-old girl?”

  “Yes!” Cal cheered, then leaned forward to wrap his arms around Bree’s shoulders from behind. “Thank you, thank you, you are my new favorite person in the entire world.”

  Clint shook his head in mock shame and embarrassment. “Amazing. Absolutely amazing, I can’t take you guys anywhere.”

  Bree, laughing her head off, patted Cal’s arms gently. “Glad I could make your day, Cal.” She tossed a smile back to Hotch. “I didn’t hurt your feelings, did I?”

  Hotch grinned back at her. “Nah. I like a girl who can put me in my place. Full points.”

  Bree saluted him with two fingers as Cal released her, then looked directly at Clint.

  Who, for some reason, had forgotten that he shouldn’t stare at her so openly. Especially when other people were talking, his phone was blowing up, and there was a game going on.

  Whoops.

  “What?” Bree asked slowly, a small, crooked smile appearing.

  Clint could only shake his head again. “It’s just great to see you. Really great.”

  Her brow furrowed just a little, her smile not moving. “You said tha
t already.”

  “I know.” He let himself smile further. “It’s that true.”

  For the first time, he saw a hint of pink race into her cheeks, and she turned her attention to the game. He watched her swallow and felt an entirely male jolt of satisfaction at it.

  Why was that? Why did making Bree embarrassed or uncomfortable or whatever it was make him want to smile more?

  She hadn’t moved away from him after the photos, and she wasn’t moving away now.

  “You wanna grab a bite to eat after the game?” Bree asked without looking at him.

  Now Clint did smile, still watching her. “Of course. I think the guys are going to want to take us all out, though.”

  Bree nodded. “I meant this game.”

  What the . . .

  YES.

  “Absolutely,” he told her without hesitation.

  Again, Bree nodded, her attention on the court.

  Clint watched the game too, but his attention was on her.

  It couldn’t go anywhere else.

  “Bree Insert-Middle-Name Stone, you’ve got some ’splainin’ to do.”

  Bree blinked hard at her roommate as she stumbled out of her bedroom. “I what?”

  Penny sat cross-legged on their couch in her sweats and a faded high school T-shirt, glasses in place, hair piled up in a bun on top of her head. Her ever-present mug of coffee sat on the table, her laptop propped next to it, work clearly happening.

  Or it had been up until Bree entered the scene.

  “Ahem.”

  Bree flicked her eyes up to the stubborn redhead. “Yeah?”

  Penny raised a brow. “I can count on no hands at all how many times you have come home after eleven, babe. I know we’re not besties, but I do consider myself the mom of this place. Get your butt over here and spill the beans.”

  “About what?” Bree asked evasively, moving to the kitchen and heading straight for the coffee pot. She wasn’t a huge coffee drinker, but if an inquisition was on the way, she would need it.

  “Oh, please. How about Captain Blue Eyes and his amazing lats of steel?”

  A startled coughing fit attacked Bree with a ferocity that she was entirely unprepared for.

  Captain Blue Eyes?

  They were a startling color, actually. Gorgeous, to be precise. Clint had always been an attractive guy—anybody could see that—but teenage Bree hadn’t really thought of him that way. She hadn’t ever considered him anything but Grizz’s brother. Just part of the Six Pack package, really. They’d shared the longsuffering looks only Six Pack Sibs would get, joked and laughed, occasionally shared messages with the others, but that was about it.

  It had never been just the two of them.

  But last night . . .

  Something had possessed her, something brave and fiery that knocked aside awkward, insecure Bree Stone and invited the handsome, charming, funny, and yes, impeccably built Clint McCarthy out to dinner after the basketball game last night. His emphatic answer had sent a full-on swarm of butterflies into her stomach, as well as turning her lips almost completely numb and buzzing, making her wonder if she had suddenly developed an allergy to churros.

  Somehow, he had gotten them away from his teammates without anybody saying something embarrassing, while she had simply said “I’ll see you at home” to her roommates.

  She hadn’t missed the looks they’d given each other, and her, but she’d written that off as curiosity, since she’d never so much as spent twenty minutes in the company of a guy in front of them before. They had never met any of her ill-fated dates, and she wasn’t the sort of girl to gush about guys.

  And she wouldn’t start now.

  “Your silence speaks volumes.”

  Bree glanced over at Penny as she poured coffee for herself. “My silence says, ‘It’s morning, need coffee.’ Don’t read into it.”

  “Uh-huh.” Penny folded her arms, her lips twisting in disgruntlement. “Where did the pair of you go?”

  Sighing, Bree set the coffee pot back and began opening cupboards. “You aren’t going to stop, are you?”

  “Huh-uh. Creamer’s in the fridge, cinnamon top shelf in the cupboard on your left.”

  “Thanks.” Bree paused, looking at Penny in shock. “How did you know how I drink my coffee?”

  Penny grinned and shrugged. “I’m in public relations. It’s my job to notice things.”

  That wasn’t exactly true, but considering Penny’s background in advertising, Bree suspected it was more habit and experience that made her pick up tiny details.

  “Right.” Bree grabbed the cinnamon and moved to the fridge, grabbing the creamer and a yogurt.

  “Still not letting go. My group project rescheduled, so I have alllllllll morning.”

  Of course she did.

  Bree groaned, closing her eyes for a second before resuming her coffee preparations. “Mama’s Pancakes. We went to Mama’s Pancakes.”

  “Excellent cinnamon rolls there.” Penny shifted on the couch, turning to face her. “What’d you get? What did he get? I’ve always wondered what hockey guys eat.”

  “That’s the sort of thing you wonder?” Bree asked with a laugh, returning the creamer to the fridge. “Food, Penny. They eat food.”

  Penny barked a very fake laugh. “Funny. What did the gorgeous specimen order, Bree? Dang, it’s like pulling teeth to get the details.”

  “I’m private!” Bree opted to sit at their secondhand kitchen table rather than join Penny on the couch, if for no other reason than to give herself some distance from her roommate. And this conversation.

  Now Penny gave her a look. “I’m not exactly going to post all this to the internet, hon. I’m just invested. I thought your cheeks were gonna break with how much you were smiling. It was so cute.”

  Bree’s cheeks flamed on cue, and she sipped her still-too-hot coffee, singeing her tongue. She knew full well she had smiled a lot; she’d shoved a pillow in her face for an hour last night just remembering what an idiot she had been all night in that regard. At the game alone, she had been all of twelve years old with Clint, but at dinner, she’d actually hurt her face smiling and laughing.

  And she hadn’t faked a moment of it.

  Being with Clint had simply been that great. That entertaining. That fun.

  Whatever awkwardness she’d felt at the game and sitting there beside him, at dinner, when it was just the two of them, it had been like they were back at a dinner at Belltown, where they had been designated to the siblings’ table. They’d flat out judged and speculated about other guests in the restaurant, stolen from each other’s plates, and swapped sibling horror stories in recent years. He’d shared funny stories about his time while deployed, she’d given him a taste of what going to college close to her parents had been like.

  She hadn’t laughed that much in years.

  Literally, it had been years.

  “He got the breakfast sampler,” Bree heard herself admit, thinking back to the night before. “I got cinnamon pancakes and a milkshake.”

  “A milkshake?” Penny laughed, dropping her head onto the back of the couch. “Of course you did. What did he say?”

  Bree smiled. “He complained he didn’t know that was an option.”

  “And you said?”

  “Tough.”

  “Attagirl!” Penny applauded, then mocked bowing down to Bree before sitting back. “So? Did he kiss you?”

  Bree’s jaw dropped. “What? No! Oh my gosh, why would you . . . ? We’re just friends, Penny! We’ve been friends for years, and we were just catching up! It wasn’t a date!”

  Penny’s mouth formed a thin line, and her eyes narrowed. “Did he pay?”

  “Yes . . . ” Bree admitted with all the reluctance she could drum up.

  “And you decided you were going before the second half, right?”

  Bree bit the inside of her lip hard. “Yeah . . . ”

  “And it was just the two of you?”

  “You know it wa
s.”

  “Planned ahead,” Penny pointed out, holding up a finger. “Paired off. Paid for.” She waved the now-three fingers in Bree’s direction. “A date by anyone’s definition.”

  Bree turned to her yogurt and moodily tore off the top, frowning when it didn’t come off cleanly, an annoying corner staying put. “A date is not a proposal.”

  “Did I say it was? Good night, girl, get over it. Sorry I asked about a kiss. I just saw how often you were looking at each other, and I wondered if he decided to do something about it. Or you did.”

  How often . . . ?

  He was looking?

  She knew she had been, had spent the drive over to the restaurant berating herself for it, but had he really . . . ?

  “He was looking?” Bree asked in a very small voice, her eyes darting back to her roommate with the same hint of hope her heart currently quivered with.

  Penny smiled, her eyes bright. “Yep. He looked. I almost paid the arena-camera guys to put you two on Kiss Cam just to cut the tension I was feeling.”

  “Penny!” Bree propped her elbow on the table, her forehead going into one hand. “Oh my gosh. How am I going to do this?”

  “Do what?” Penny demanded, eagerly sitting up. “What’s next?”

  Bree would have given a lot of money to say nothing, but the truth of the matter was that part of her was dying to tell someone. Not that it was a surprise, but given last night . . . Well, it felt like something.

  “I’m going to his game next week,” Bree told her, scooping yogurt onto her spoon. “The Six Pack are coming to town, and Ryker invited me along.”

  Penny sat in silence for a second. “Your brother invited you? Not Clint?”

  Biting her lip, Bree fought a smile. “No . . . Clint invited me too.”

  “Bree!” Penny squealed, slapping the couch.

  “What?” she laughed. “My brother invited me first, so I was already going to go, and then Clint asked if I would come, so . . . ” She trailed off, shrugging. “He seemed happy I was coming.”

  “Of course he was!” Penny shook her head, probably thinking Bree was a naïve little idiot about all of this, but she wasn’t saying so. “And what are you two doing after?”

  Bree waved her hand as she ate her yogurt. “Oh, the Six Pack will take us all out. That’s tradition.”