Ten days. Thatās all Iām asking for. But not one of my NHL teammates is willing to cough up a sister, cousin, or trusted friend to play my fake girlfriend for this wedding. Pucking BS. Yeah, my mouth has been known to get me into places I donāt belong. But this Class Five panty melter is on lockdown because the last thing I need is another complication. Iām about to give up when fate delivers the answer to my prayers. Iām not her type. She doesnāt date jocks. All this sharp, sexy overachiever wants is a little fun, an escape from her career-driven life. Itās a simple arrangement. So why am I complicating it?