Page 9 of The Fake Date Agreement

“You think lucky pants are going to save me?” Javier backs up a step. “Nah, my man. You do it.”

“Eaten? What the fuck do you think is in there?” I shake my head. “Doesn’t matter. We need to figure out what it is, deal with it, and then I need to get back on the ice. Kick the door open.”

Reid glares at me. “I say again, why does it have to be?—”

The door flies open.

Someone screams.

It sure as hell wasn’t me, that much I know.

I leap aside to avoid the door, running into Reid when we both go in the same direction. Our heads crack together, and the stick flies out of my hand.

I’m diving to get it when it hits me that we’re not dealing with an owl, an evil spirit,ora ghost.

It’s a girl.

Beautiful. Short. Lush curves, soft-looking curly brown hair, holding a pair of shoes in one hand, and rubbing the back of her head as she squints at us.

“Who are you?” Javier demands from halfway down the hallway.

Impressive. The only time he moves that fast is when he’s on the ice.

“I know I’m not supposed to be here, but please don’t kill me.”

Chapter 4

Tobie

Three of thehottest men I’ve seen in my life stare at me.

I can barely see them out of one eye with a contact missing, so I squint for all I’m worth.

The tallest one snatches up a hockey stick, and I retreat.

I heard them out here. I couldn’t help but hear them getting ready to crack my head open after I’dfinallygotten myself out of the locked stall.

Just in time to die.

I’d been waiting on the other side of the bathroom door for the perfect time to open it.

I must have timed it wrong because two of the men had run into each other. Another had sprinted down the hallway. One of them had screamed. I’m not sure which one did the screaming, but something tells me it wasn’t the big guy with the scowling, gruff expression currently holding his hockey stick.

I retreat a little more.

His handsome face twists into annoyance. “Stop that. I’m not going to hurt you.”

I eye the hockey stick.

Hot guy with piercing green eyes and short, dirty blond hair is a little less terrifying when he lowers it. He’s still stupidly talland stacked with so much muscle straining a long-sleeve black T-shirt that he could pick me up with one arm and not notice he’s carrying a thing.

“You were making weird noises.” The guy rubbing his head does nothing to hide his curiosity. He’s not so terrifying. Cute. Longish, light brown hair, flint-gray eyes, and an open, friendly expression.

I blush. “Uh… I locked myself in the bathroom stall. I was trying to get out.”

“But the noises?” he presses.

“I was trying really hard.”

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