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WadeI ve been pissing off Gabe Finch since her first NHL press conference.The snarky sportscaster hates my guts-hungry kisses and an unforgettable night don t change that-and I can t get her out of my head. When her cheating ex-fiancé won t leave her alone, a protective instinct possesses me to butt in and pretend to be her boyfriend.Big mistake.Paparazzi capture our exit from the crowded club, and now, our PR teams want us to fake-date for clout.Should be easy. I can do fake. I ve faked who I am for years. But with Gabe, everything feels too real, and the façade quickly crumbles despite my usual safeguards.Maybe for her, I want it to.GabeWade Boehner is a decent goalie, but wholly unserious and far too arrogant. Plus his frontal lobe only reached maturity, like, yesterday.I probably need my brain scanned, too. My impulse control short-circuits whenever the handsome idiot struts around.One angry New Year s Eve kiss, one night together last summer, and one whiskey-fueled performance as his girlfriend top the list of my poor decisions.Our bosses want to take advantage of the situation, so for the next four months, Wade and I have to play the happy couple without killing each other. Totally doable, if he could keep his yapper shut and grubby paws to himself. But no, the annoying show-off wants hand-holding and lovey-dovey gestures broadcast on the Jumbotron.Worst of all? When we re alone, he slips me glimpses of the real Wade, and I m afraid of what I ll feel if I let myself believe he s more than a brainless, carefree jock.