Page 1 of Shut Up and Jingle Me
ONE
ELI
I’m halfwaythrough the second verse ofAll I Want for Christmas Is Youwhen Todd Shaw, team captain, chucks a puck at me.
It skitters harmlessly across the ice, but I gasp anyway, clutching my chest like he’s just mortally wounded me.
“Blasphemy, Shawsy,” I say, skating over to pick it up. “You can’t silence Mariah.”
“Watch me,” Todd says, grinning under his helmet. “You’ve been singing for the last ten minutes. My ears are bleeding, Starling.”
“Correction,” I sing-song, spinning the puck on my stick like the showman I am. “I’ve beenimprovingteam morale.”
From the bench, Peter groans. “Morale would improve if you shut up.”
“That’s the opposite of Christmas spirit, Petey.”
“Don’t call me Petey.”
“Even less spirit,” I tsk, circling back toward the net. Daniel West skates up beside me, his cheeks flushed and eyes dancing like he’s holding in a laugh.
“Just ignore them,” Daniel says. “I think it’s cute.”
“You hear that, team?” I call, loud enough for my voice to echo off the boards. “Daniel thinks I’m cute.”
Todd blows his whistle from center ice. “Enough flirting—Starling, goal, now!”
I drop into my stance, bouncing on my skates just to annoy him.
And that’s when Max Calder, the team's athletic trainer and undergrad student, walks in.
Even from the net, I can see the scowl. Dark hoodie under his team-issued jacket, clipboard in one hand, coffee in the other, obviously needing caffeine just to endure being here this early. His dark hair is still damp from a shower, curling slightly at the ends, and there’s that faint, perpetual crease between his brows that makes him look as though someone’s just insulted his mother.
Our eyes meet for a split second before he looks away, already talking to Todd about something on the clipboard.
It shouldn’t make my stomach flip. But it does. Because Max Calder is hot with a capital H.
Daniel bumps my shoulder. “Uh oh. Grinch alert.”
“I heard that,” Max says without looking up.
“Yeah, well,” Daniel says, skating in a circle around my net, “it’s not exactly a secret. And you answer to it, so you must know it’s your nickname.”
“Good luck treating your next broken nose from running that mouth, West.”
I laugh at his grumpiness, and Daniel skates toward center with a puck, lining up a shot. I block him with ease. And sing out the lyrics of “You’re a mean one, Mr. Grinch.”
Max finally looks up, and this time his gaze lands squarely on me.
“And you,” he says, voice even but edged, “try not to injure yourself while you’re performing your little…concert.”
My grin widens. “Oh, don’t worry, Calder. My vocal cords are in top condition.”
“Pity.”
He moves on, already jotting something down, and Daniel snorts, gliding past me.
“You’ve got it bad,” he says.
