Page 4 of Shut Up and Jingle Me
Nate Thompson’s perched on the bench in front of me, shirt off, while I work my thumbs gently into the tight knot in his shoulder. He winces, and I remind him, again, to actually stretch before practice.
The shower room door swings open with a rush of steam, and in breezes trouble himself. Hair damp, towel slung low on his hips, a grin so wide it should be illegal. He strolls right past the row of lockers and plants himself next to me, close enough that a cold droplet slides off his wet and tousled hair and lands on my forearm.
“Hey, future co-star,” Eli says, propping one hand on the back of the bench so he can lean into my space without actually touching me. “How’s the patient?”
“Better before you showed up,” I mutter, keeping my attention on Nate’s shoulder.
Eli ignores my annoyance completely. “So I’ve been brainstorming…what if we did candy cane stripes? Painted on. Minimal clothing. Full commitment.”
“No.”
“Yes,” he says, grinning. “Or—hear me out—we go full North Pole chic. I’ll wear an elf hat; you get reindeer antlers. Very on-brand for us.”
“I don’t have a brand,” I tell him.
“You do now,” he says, tilting his head and pursing his lips as he studies me. “The whole broody ‘don’t touch me’ thing paired with festive accessories? That’s calendar gold. Especially since…” He pauses, grinning wider. “You’d basically be Max fromThe Grinch—you know, the dog? Loyal, cranky by association, forced to wear antlers?”
I glare at him, but it’s not doing much; he’s already raising his eyebrows at me, grinning as if he’s just won the Stanley Cup.
“It’s fate,” he says. “The universe is practically begging me to make this happen.”
I shake my head and go back to working the knot out of Nate’s shoulder, pretending I’m not giving the comment another thought. But of course, I am.
Max fromThe Grinch.Loyal. Cranky. Stuck putting up with the idiot in charge. It’s not…entirely wrong. Which makes it worse.
“Not happening,” I tell him.
Eli tilts his head, already filing away my reaction for future use. “We’ll see.”
That smile—smug, bright, completely unfazed—sticks with me even after he finally wanders off to get dressed.
I finish up with Nate and start putting away the tape and ice packs, telling myself I should be annoyed. But the truth? Part of me is already wondering how ridiculous I’d look in those antlers…and how much Eli would laugh if I actually wore them.
The first thingI smell when I walk into the rink isn’t ice; it’s sugar. Specifically, peppermint and steamed milk, which means Eli Starling’s already here.
I wrap my hands around my black coffee like it’s armor and step onto the bench line, scanning the ice. Sure enough, he’s mid-lap, red practice jersey bright against the white, grinning like this is the most fun anyone’s ever had at seven in the morning.
The second he spots me, he changes direction and skates straight over, stopping close enough that cold air wafts off of him and clings to my jacket.
“Morning, partner,” he says, taking an exaggerated sip from his paper cup that was resting on the railing. “I’ve been thinking—we could go for a ‘cozy winter cabin’ vibe. You in a chunky sweater, me with a blanket, mugs of cocoa between us.”
“No,” I say, sipping my coffee.
“Or…” He taps his lips, eyes narrowing as if he’s picturing it. “Matching pajamas. Maybe reindeer onesies. Think about the sales numbers.”
“Not happening.”
He smirks, clearly hearing the lack of conviction in my voice. “You’re going to break eventually, Calder. I’ll make sure of it.”
“Starling!” Todd’s voice booms from across the rink. “Net, now!”
Eli grins at me shamelessly before he takes another long sip and sets the cup back on the railing. Then blows me a kiss before skating backward toward the crease, still holding my gaze like this is his personal challenge.
I take another drink of my coffee, telling myself it’s the caffeine making my pulse kick, but that’s a lie. It’s him. He’s gotten under my skin for a long time, actually. The worst part is, I don’t hate it.
I should, because that little performance as I got here was pure Eli: loud, distracting, and absolutely unnecessary. But there’s something about the way he commits to the bit—like once he’s decided on a mission, he’s going to see it through no matter how ridiculous—that gets under my skin.
And that’s dangerous.
