I’m fake-engaged to my injured, billionaire ex-enemy—and if anyone finds out I’m his therapist, I lose everything.
Bestie, promise you won’t scream. Remember Mason Hart.
He’s the grumpy hockey legend hiding at his lake estate; I’m the sunshine PT sent to stitch him back together. I hate the assignment—and that his scowl sparks my pulse.
At Sunday brunch, his grandmother calls me his girlfriend, and Maple Heights believes her before I swallow my coffee. We strike a deal: I’ll play fiancée for the cameras; he respects every boundary.
Midnight pancakes turn into secrets on the porch swing. He coaxes me onto his private rink and I carve a wobbly figure eight through his armor.
