Page 10 of The Fake Date Agreement

Between smacking a shoe against the door, I’d rattle it, cursing every bad thing that had ever happened to me, growling, yelling, and probably sounding like I was insane. And yet, insanity had worked. The door had flown open, clocking me in the head. I’d yelped in surprise, but I hadn’t even cared that I’d hurt myself again.

I was free.

The guy halfway down the hallway comes back. “You’re rubbing your head.”

I try to place his accent, but I can’t. I want to say Spanish, but that doesn’t sound right, even though he looks like he might be with his short, curly brown hair, olive skin, and pretty brown eyes.

I stop rubbing my throbbing head. “When I first tried to open the door, I…” How do you say you ran at the door, bounced off it, and knocked yourself out without sounding like an idiot? “Uh… I failed.”

Gruff Hot Guy’s eyes sharpen. “We’ll go back to the arena, and I’ll take a look at it. Head wounds are bad. You feel dizzy or sick?”

“I felt a bit sick before, but that’s because I had my nose to the floor,” I say.

They stare at me.

Three of the hottest men you’ve ever seen in your life, Tobie, andthisis the state they find you in.

“Come on. It’s too dark here to see anything.” The gruff one leads the way up the hallway toward a bead of light at the end while the other two fall in beside me.

“I’m Reid. You want me to carry you?” the sweet one offers.

“I’m okay, thanks.”

I definitely have a head injury. Why else would I refuse an offer like that?

“I’m Javier,” says the guy with dark brown eyes like velvet. “It’s Portuguese,” he adds.

I cock my head.

His mouth curves in a sexy half smile. “I can always tell when a girl is distracted by my accent. My parents are Brazilian, but I’ve always called Boston home.”

“Tobie… Tobie Myers from a town in Nebraska so small no one has ever heard of it.” I smile at him as I try not to let his accent continue to distract me. I’m probably more concussed than I realize because I swear his eyes spark with interest.

“That short for something?” he asks.

“October. Fall was my mom’s favorite season, but I’ve been Tobie for so long, it’s practically my name now.”

“It’s cute. The grumpy one is Caleb.” Reid leans toward me and says in a loud whisper, “He’s half-Canadian, so you’d thinkhewould be the nice one, not me.”

I bite my cheek to hide my smile when Caleb’s back stiffens as he stalks ahead.

In the arena, I shiver as we near the ice.

Caleb rests his stick against the plexiglass and motions me over. “Let me have a look.”

Despite all his gruffness, his fingers are gentle as he takes his time, carefully probing the back of my head. It is an honest-to-God scalp massage, and the only reason I’m not leaning into it and moaning is because I’ve humiliated myself enough tonight.

I wince when he touches a sore spot.

“You have a small lump,” he says, slowly pulling his fingers from my hair and taking a step back. “You should go to a doctor, get it checked out. Just in case.”

I glance at his forehead and the redness there. “You bumped your head too.”

I’d heard the crack of two heads colliding as I shoved the bathroom door open. Reid was rubbing his head. Caleb must have a titanium skull to shrug it off without so much as a curse.

Reid flashes me a grin. “We’re hockey players. Takes a lot more than that to get us down. If we’re sick or dizzy, Doc always checks us out. Concussion is a bitch.”

As he speaks, Caleb is toeing off his sneakers and sitting on a bench to pull on skates.

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