Page 3 of Love is Fake

The giant in the ball cap huffs a laugh at my words. “So what? You’re a doctor?”

I stamp down on the anger that’s rapidly rising to the surface at the unpleasantness of this guy. Seriously, what gives?

“No, but I know a few things about these kinds of injuries,” I try to explain.

“Right. Like I said, you’re not a doctor, so let’s quit with the armchair fucking expert crap.” He barely looks at me, still focused on his car.

“Look, I know this situation isn’t exactly ideal,” I pause to take a deep breath as Ball-Cap Man audibly scoffs, “but your car looks fine and, if it isn’t, my insurance will cover the cost of any repairs,” I hope. “It was an honest mistake, so there’s no need to be such a dick about it, especially when I’m trying to apologize!”

My arms are folded over my chest and I’m glad for my defensive position, when the giant unfurls himself and comes to his full height. For the first time I get a good look at him and it seems as though time stops.

No. Crapping. Way. Out of a city of 18 million people, why ishethe one I had to drive into?

“Let me get this straight,you’rethe one who rear-endedmeandI’mthe dick here?” He mirrors my posture, steadying his arms across his broad chest. My mouth goes dry as I look up into a face I haven’t seen in the flesh in years.

“Lennox Gray.” His name is out of my mouth before I can stop myself, but he doesn’t react. It’s not as if he’s not used to being recognized – not only is he one of the top players in the National Hockey League, but with his All-American good looks he’s got sponsorships coming out of his ears. His face is all over Times Square as we speak, advertising some cologne, those intense smoky eyes of his causing more than one traffic accident, I’m sure.

He frowns at me from under his Pelicans Ball Cap and in an instant I go back to being that awkward sixteen year old I was when I last saw him. His strong jaw and dark eyes are the same as I remember, but there’s a hardness around his face that wasn’t there when he was a high school senior.

His hair is dark and a little too long, but it works for him because… of course it does – that’s how Lennox Gray’s lifeis: charmed. If anything, he’s grown more good-looking in the intervening seven years, which doesn’t make it any easier not to look at him.

I still remember that time in the library when I’d been caught staring at him like some lovestruck teenager – which is exactly what I was at the time – and his then girlfriend called me out in front of the whole damn place.

“…And if you haven’t driven in a while, then you should be paying more attention to the damn road, don’t you think?”

I blink up at Lennox from the foot height distance that separates us. At 5’5, I’m just around average height for a woman. Lennox just happens to be an overachiever in the height department as well as everything else, apparently. I realize he must have been talking to me while I zoned out into my own private hell and all I can hope is that I haven’t been staring.

It’s clear he doesn’t remember me, and why would he? I wouldn’t even have registered as a blip on his radar back in high school, especially as he was a late transfer when his family had moved. We didn’t grow up together, don’t have any shared history. Besides, I’d like to think I look a damn sight different now.

“Look, I’m sorry.” I make a calming motion with my hands and then remember the insurance details I grabbed from the glovebox. “Here.”

Lennox looks from my hand to my face and back again.

“I don’t need that, the truck’s fine,” he shrugs and I feel my previous frustration building.

“If it’s fine, then why are you making such a big deal out of this? Or do you just enjoy shouting at women on the street?” I plant my hands on my hips, noticing the way his eyes roam disdainfully over my work uniform of black yoga pants and a black long-sleeved shirt and then over to my crappy rental with the now damaged bonnet. I roll my eyes at the judgement I seeon his face – he doesn’t know anything about me and yet he’s already assumed that I’m not up to his level. Looks like he’s still the same arrogant ass, with the admittedly great ass from high school. As if I care.

His unimpressed expression flickers for an instant before it’s back in full force, but he just remains staring at me in silence, which is only making me more and more uncomfortable. That’s probably his intention. I figure he’s used to intimidating his opponents on the ice and he probably isn’t used to being around people who will actually disagree with him. This is why I’m so glad I never have to work with celebrities, that’s Michael’s jam, not mine. Except for the one I’m on my way to now and… I sneak a look at my watch, dammit I’m late.

Lennox clocks my movement as I check the time. “Am I keeping you from something important?”

He actually sounds offended, as if nothing could be more important than him.Delusions of grandeur much?

“I’m on my way to work and now I’m going to be late, so if you don’t want my insurance details, do you at least want my number so you can contact me if there are any problems?”

I wave vaguely at the truck despite the fact that I can’t imagine anything being wrong with it other than a scratch you’d need a microscope to see. But I figure it’s the polite thing to do.

When he opens his mouth, I wish that I’d just kept mine shut.

“This is how you pick up guys? You rear-end them and then give them your number? How’s that work out for you usually?” He leans back casually against his trunk, like he’s actually interested in my answer as I stand there staring at him with my mouth wide fucking open.

I’m mortified. Does he seriously think I was trying to give him my number to come onto him? I can feel my cheeks heating at his words and from the smirk on his face he clearly takes my embarrassment as an admission of guilt. Little does he knowthat it really isn’t all that hard to make me blush, it’s the curse of my pale Irish skin tone.

“You know what? Forget it.” I throw my hands up in the air, pissed at being treated like something he found in the trash. I may not have grown up with a damn silver spoon in my mouth like Lennox Freakin’ Gray did, but I don’t deserve to be treated like this. “I was just trying to do the right thing, but you’ve been an obtuse asshole about this whole thing from start to finish. I’m late for an important job which will probably result in me getting fired and my day just got a whole lot longer because now I’m going to have to explain to the rental company what happened to their damn tin can!” I gesture towards my little Fiat, which is looking decidedly worse for wear. “So, I’m done. Thank you and goodbye.” I turn on my heel and stalk back to my car, not waiting for him to respond.

Turning the key in the ignition, the car chokes a little as it turns over, but thank God it starts. As I indicate to pull out into traffic, my eyes meet Gray’s dark ones and I expect to see a scowl on his features, the same one he’s worn the whole time we were talking, but instead, there’s something else. Something I can’t place. Something I don’t have time to analyze right now. Not when my focus is on what the hell I’m going to say to the VIP who I’m now running late for.

Dammit! Out of all the times for something like this to happen, why did it have to be today? I already know the answer to that. Life has never exactly been fair to me. In fact, I’d say it’s been using me as it’s laughingstock for quite some time now. If someone’s going to slip on a banana peel walking down the street, it’s going to be me. I’m the person who bumps into mannequins in stores and then apologizes to the mannequin before realizing I’m talking to a mannequin. And, apparently, I’m also the person who gets into car accidents with high school crushes and then calls them assholes!

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