Page 36 of No Shot (The Toronto Tundra #2)

Bri

My name is Bridgette Campbell, and I ’ ve been dating Penn Brooks for three weeks.

Ouf.

Even now, as I lie in his bed, dressed in his oversized t-shirt, that statement still surprises the hell out of me. I spent the night, something we ’ ve also started doing recently.

I truly don ’ t know how we got here, but I ’ m actually… happy. Like an incessant, annoying mosquito circling—he was just there. Penn Brooks, nuisance extraordinaire with the giant dick. I got used to him being around, and now— sigh —I like him being here.

I ’ m not the relationship type of girl. I never have been. I ’ ve been too focused on myself to dive into the realm of actually dating, but what we have is good. Great, even. There ’ s no labels or anything, no serious commitment, just enjoying each other ’ s company.

We still bicker like an old married couple.

Most days, I have to remind him to adult, while trying to restrain his ego, which is already the size of a small country, while he laughs it off, flashing that ridiculous grin of his.

And he ’ ll tease me about being the human version of a spreadsheet, always organized, overthinking everything, and incapable of relaxing unless it ’ s in a highly structured, five-minute window of me-time.

It ’ s a nice little ritual we have. Certainly one that defies science, but here we are.

I rise out of bed and patter down the hallway to the sounds of the TV playing throughout the apartment.

Sunlight bathes the entire space in a warm hue.

We have the most incredible views from up here.

I sometimes just want to plop down on the couch and spend my entire day staring out over the city.

But alas, ya girl has a job, and school, and responsibilities.

Though I wish more than anything I could just curl up in a sun patch and snooze the day away just once.

I rarely sleep in this late, but I ’ ve grown comfortable sleeping next to Penn.

It ’ s oddly soothing, and I sleep better than I ever have alone.

“ So what do you make of the trade rumors? Should the Tundra cut ties with Penn Brooks?”

“ Well, listen, he ’ s a young kid still finding his footing, but at some point something ’ s gotta give. Does he have potential? Sure, we can all see that, but he hasn ’ t been showing up this season.”

“ Not to mention, when you look at a hotshot like Theo Benson, playing on the same line, it ’ s hard not to compare the two. Benson needs support, and Brooks is just not stepping up to the plate.”

“ Exactly. So, I say trade him. Give the kid a chance with another organization and focus on bringing in some talent that will take them straight to another playoff run.”

“ With his performance this season, do you think another general manager would really snap him up? Less than a year and a half of playing time in the NHL… He just might not have it in him.”

“ I think a few more years of development in the AHL might do him some good.”

“ Could just be a change of scenery he needs, but either way, if you ask me, with the way he ’ s playing, he isn ’ t the right fit for the organization. ”

I step closer, trying to hear the rest of the sportscaster ’ s conversation, but Penn looks over his shoulder and switches the channel suddenly. Odd .

“ Well, if it isn ’ t the sleeping beauty.”

“ Mmm,” I manage through my groggy, half-sleepy conscience. But in true Penn fashion, he continues.

“ How honored I am that you decided to grace me with your presence at this late hour.” He makes wildly unnecessary gestures like he ’ s a court gesture greeting a queen. “ Good afternoon to you.”

“ It ’ s nine,” I reply, trying to withhold my smirk. He ’ s ridiculous. The one time I ’ m not up at the crack of dawn? This is the treatment I get? “ And my day off.”

He tsks, pulling me into a hug. “ Excuses, excuses,” he mumbles into my hair as his arms wrap around me. “ So I was thinking…”

“ Geez, that must have really tuckered you out, eh?” I reply, pulling my head back to look up at him.

“ Hah-Hah, very funny. Good to see you ’ re waking up now. I was beginning to fear sleepy Soup was docile…”

He moves his hand to graze my cheek, and I turn to snap my teeth at it. His smile lights up the whole room. “ There ’ s my girl.”

My girl. It sounds so comforting when he says it, especially like that. So effortlessly…

“ You know how I ’ m leaving tonight?” Crap, I forgot about their roadtrip. It ’ s just a few days, but still, I ’ ve liked how much he ’ s been home lately.

“ Yeah.” I try my best to mask my disappointment.

“ Aw, Soup. You gonna miss me or something?”

“ In your dreams, puck-boy.”

“ You don ’ t even want to know what we do in my dreams, Bridgette.

” His voice is deep and sultry this morning, and I feel the vibrations in my core.

I love when he calls me Bridgette. It means he ’ s serious, and he usually reserves it for bossing me around the bedroom.

Ah fuck, now I ’ m turned on, first thing in the morning… super. Penn smiles down at me.

“ You ’ re thinking about it, aren ’ t you?”

I wave him off. “ Hush, you were saying something…”

He eyes me skeptically. “ No, I think I ’ m much more interested in whatever scene is playing in that beautiful little head of yours.” He taps my forehead, smiling down at me like he can see exactly what I ’ m imagining.

I snap my fingers in front of his face. “ Focus, Penn.”

He stands at attention, grabbing both my hands in his. “ Will you come on an adventure with me this morning?”

Spending the night and a day-date? I start to open my mouth, but he interrupts.

“ Ah—before you say anything, I already did your laundry for you, and we ’ ll grab groceries on the way back so you ’ re stocked for the week.

I even promise to leave you be for the whole flight tonight so you can have your focus time.

” It ’ s a little wild how much he ’ s picked up in such a short amount of time.

Unless I ’ m really that predictable. He ’ s just walked me through every hesitation that came to mind. “ How does that sound?”

“ Horrifying. Do I still have white clothing, or is it all stained some random shade of pink from my socks?”

He laughs. It ’ s a warm sound that fills me with calm. “ See for yourself.” He motions his head toward a somewhat neatly folded pile of clothes on his island and a drying rack by the front door.

“ That was nice of you.”

“ Least I could do after what you did for me last night,” he waggles his eyebrows at me.

“ Alright, keep it in your pants, guy.”

“ So? What do you say? Up for an adventure?”

“ Will I be bored?”

“ With this shining entertainment? Never.”

“ Will it be dangerous?”

“ Obviously…”

“ Can I pay for said activity?”

“ Over my dead body.”

“ Sigh… if we must.”

“ Woo! Listen to that enthusiasm, ladies and gentlemen!” He looks around the empty room, like he ’ s speaking to hordes of people. I shake my head, stretching to my tippy toes to give him a quick peck before hurrying to change for the day.

He always does manage to surprise me. The more I learn about Penn, the more I want to.

I feel like his happy-go-lucky personality lets him fly under the radar, but the boy is whip smart.

I don ’ t know what those sports guys were talking about, but he really shouldn ’ t be underestimated.

His ability to evolve is next-level impressive.

I mean, two months ago he was dry cleaning his socks and today? The man remembered to air dry my LuLus.

***

“ Where are we going?” I ask, looking over at Penn, who ’ s hyper-focused on driving us to this mystery location.

He clears his throat, not pulling his eyes from the road. “ That ’ s classified.”

“ Well, how long is the drive?”

He turns to me, acting like he ’ s about to spill the beans before clamping his mouth shut, facing forward again. “ Classified.” An enraging smile paints his face.

I hate surprises. I huff, leaning back into the plush seats of his Audi. “ I like this one, how long do you have it for?” I was shocked to learn this was his fourth car lease. According to him, he ’ s been testing the waters before locking a single car down or something like that.

“ I know you do, so I bought it.” It ’ s such a simple statement, but it feels deeply loaded.

“ What happened to leasing?”

“ Didn ’ t want to anymore.”

“ You suddenly changed your whole car philosophy? You ’ re committing to a single car?”

“ Yep.” He says it so casually…

“ Oh, well, congrats. It ’ s beautiful.” I stare at the road ahead, tapping my finger impatiently on my thighs. I wish I could just let a surprise be exactly that, but not knowing the plan gnaws at me. “ So, am I dressed okay for this super secret, classified mission?”

He lifts his aviators, making a point of eyeing me up and down, taking his time to appreciate my body. “ Don ’ t try to distract me, woman.”

“ Call me woman again, see what happens,” I warn.

He raises his hands up in defense. “ But yes, believe it or not, redacted clothing will be provided at redacted location.” He makes a robotic voice each time, before winking at me, knowing how much this irritates me. “ You ’ d make a terrible secret agent, by the way.”

“ Would not,” I object with such fervency. I literally have never thought about this for a second before right now, but either way, I refuse to back down.

“ Would too! You ’ re completely missing the objective of this classified mission.”

“ Well, good thing no part of me actually wants to become a secret agent!”

“ And our national defense services thank you for your self-awareness.”

Oh, now it ’ s on. “ Like you ’ d make a good spy? Hmm, what ’ s that baby-faced, good-looking, six-foot giant doing here? Definitely blending in… not suspicious at all…” I lay the sarcasm on t hick.

“ First of all, thanks for the compliments, you ’ re not too bad looking yourself.” I roll my eyes because, of course, that ’ s the only part he caught. “ Second of all, espionage is my middle name, Soup.” He slowly drags his sunglasses back on and sends a pair of finger guns in my direction.

Damn it, even that goofy ass gesture looked a little cool.