Ten days. That’s all I’m 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 don’t belong. But this Class Five panty melter is on lockdown because the last thing I need is another complication.

I’m about to give up when fate delivers the answer to my prayers.

I’m not her type. She doesn’t date jocks. All this sharp, sexy overachiever wants is a little fun, an escape from her career-driven life.

It’s a simple arrangement. So why am I complicating it?