Page 12 of Fake It For Glory

It was a mistake. I wasn’t the one. Dalton would have to find someone else to go undercover. I was about to run and leave when the door was flung open, whacking me right on the nose. I stumbled back with my vision blurred.

I blinked rapidly, trying to clear my vision. I tasted blood in my mouth and instinctively brought a hand up to my face. The door had hit me hard, and I was sure my nose was broken. I stepped back and tripped over my own foot. I felt myself falling but there was no stopping it. I landed on my ass.

“Shit, sorry about that,” a voice said. “Are you okay?”

I looked up and saw the shadowy figure of a man standing in front of me. He was tall, at least six feet, with broad shoulders and a chiseled jawline. He had short, dark hair—I thought. My eyes were struggling to focus. He was wearing a tailored suit that hugged his muscular frame.

If I was dead, this was heaven. I rapidly blinked, trying to clear my vision, but the tears were streaming down my face. The tears were involuntary.

“Are you okay?” he asked again. “Let me help you up. Shit, I’m so fucking sorry. Fuck me. I’m such a fucking idiot. I’m sorry. I can’t believe I did that.”

I nodded, still unable to speak. He reached out a hand and helped me up. My knees were weak, and I had to hold on to him to steady myself.

“Let’s get you inside,” he said, taking my arm. “I’m sure we can clean you up and get you feeling better. I’ll get some ice.”

I nodded again, feeling like a complete idiot. I couldn’t believe I had just made a fool of myself in front of this incredibly handsome man. I grunted, not able to form words. My face felt like it was the size of a basketball.

He led me inside, and I immediately felt out of place. The dim room made it even harder for my vision to focus. I blinked several times. Dark walls, dark furniture, and just dark. Or maybe it was just my vision was going dark because I was going to pass out. It was really hard to say for sure.

“Excuse me!” he shouted and left me sitting in a chair. “I need some ice! Please!”

My face hurt. Really hurt. I touched my nose and winced. I didn’t taste blood, but I couldn’t be sure my face wasn’t shattered. I felt numb. I touched under my nose, checking for blood. My brain was running in circles. I was still trying to figure out what happened. I got knocked on my ass. I knew that. I was certain I was at Faux’s.

Did I really let myself get knocked on my ass? I was so embarrassed. Only I could manage to humiliate myself in such a dramatic way.

“Here,” the man said.

A moment later I winced in shock and pain as ice came into contact with my skin. “Ouch.”

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he said again. “I’ll call an ambulance.”

“No! I don’t need an ambulance. I’m fine.”

I breathed through the pain. One deep breath after another. Unfortunately, being unable to breathe through my nose made it hard to practice the breathing exercises I learned in yoga.

“Are you sure,” he said softly. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

I opened my eyes once again and found myself staring into the deepest, sexiest green eyes ever. For a moment, I wondered if I was in a dream. Maybe I was a little concussed.

“I’m okay,” I said and lowered the ice pack a little bit.

My eyes focused and I realized who I was looking at.

No way. No. Freaking. Way.

My attacker and rescuer stared at me. I wanted to melt into the chair. I felt like such a complete idiot. Only I could run face first into Jensen Loxley. Rather, the door that Jensen Loxley was opening.

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