Shut Up and Jingle Me (Full Contact #2)

Chapter 1 Eli

ONE

ELI

I’m halfway through the second verse of All I Want for Christmas Is You when 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 been improving team 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.

“I do not,” I lie, heart pounding.

Because if I did, it would be wildly inconvenient, since it’s against some kind of rule, I’m sure. And maybe just a little bit fun.

“You're seconds from writing his name with candy canes in the snow.”

I smirk. “Please. If I was gonna write it anywhere, I’d use Christmas lights on the rink. Go big or go home.”

Daniel snorts. “And you say I’m dramatic.”

“Starling! West! Back to work,” Todd barks, and I snap back into my goalie stance just in time to block a slap-shot from Peter. The puck ricochets off my pad, and I catch it in my trapper and chuck it back out onto the rink.

Max’s voice carries across the ice. “Nice save. Shame about the singing, though.”

I cup my glove around the cage of my helmet. “That’s called style, Calder. You wouldn’t understand.”

He arches a brow, still writing something on his clipboard. “If style means sounding like a reindeer in distress, then you’re right. I don’t.”

“Oh, burn!” Peter yells from the blue line.

I slide backward into the net, keeping my eyes on Max. “This reindeer’s gonna lead the sleigh tonight,” I sing—loud, off-key, and perfectly obnoxious.

Daniel joins in on the chorus, leaning dramatically on his stick. “You know Dasher and Dancer and Prancer and Vixen—”

“Bench yourselves,” Todd says, exasperated.

But Max’s mouth twitches, just enough for me to notice. It’s not a smile, exactly. More similar to the ghost of one he’s trying to strangle before it escapes.

I point my glove at him. “See? You’re not immune. Soon you’ll be wearing jingle bells.”

“Over my dead body,” he says.

“Challenge accepted.”

His eyes flick up to mine, and there’s something there—something warm beneath the frost—that makes my heart trip over itself. I spin away before I do something stupid, like sing him a love ballad in front of the team.

I settle onto the bench and start belting out ‘All I want for Christmas is a Hippopotamus.’

Todd finally blows the whistle, cutting through my beautiful performance. “Alright, enough. Starling, net, one more note out of you and you don't start in the next game. Daniel, you’re up.”

“Make up your mind, Captain Shawsy, bench or ice.” Daniel picks up his stick, and we both head back to the ice.

The rest of practice blurs into drills and shot-blocking, my legs burning and my brain still replaying the almost-smile I caught on Max’s face.

By the time we hit the locker room, the air is thick with the smell of sweaty hockey stink and post-practice chatter. I’m peeling off my gear when Todd strolls in, clapping his hands for attention.

“Alright, listen up. It’s time for the annual ‘Holiday Hunks’ calendar assignments for the Hockey Diversity Alliance charity that focuses on eliminating racism and increasing inclusion of hockey in underrepresented youth and communities.

As you know, this is a great cause, and we need all of you to participate. ”

A cheer goes up from half the guys, while the rest—including Peter—groan like they’ve just been sentenced to public execution.

Todd grins. “Groups are already set. Don’t complain, it’s for charity.” He starts reading off names: Daniel with Peter. Daniel fist-pumps; Peter just shakes his head. Todd with another defenseman, and a couple of the rookies together.

“And for December…” Todd pauses for dramatic effect. “Eli Starling… and Max Calder.”

My head snaps up. “Wait—Max? As in…Calder, Calder the Grinch?”

Across the room, Max uncrosses his arms just long enough to gesture at himself. “Why am I even on this list? I’m not a player.”

Todd grins. “We needed more variety. Plus, the fundraising committee says the ‘trainer/athlete’ pairing tests well.”

Max blinks at him. “Tests well? What am I, a protein bar?”

“A hot one,” Daniel calls from his bench, earning a round of laughter.

Max’s eyes narrow, but then he sighs, leaning back against the doorway again. “Perfect,” he bites out, the grimace on his face says the word tastes bitter in his mouth.

I, however, am grinning so hard my cheeks hurt. “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

Max’s only response is a long-suffering sigh, but I swear there’s the tiniest twitch of his lips. He already knows I’m going to make this his most memorable holiday yet.

I sling my towel over my shoulder and saunter toward him, still riding the high from practice and the fact that fate—or Todd—has just handed me the perfect holiday gift. A sexy calendar shoot with one of the hottest men I know. It’s like winning the lottery.

“Calder,” I say, drawing out his name like I’m unwrapping it. “Don’t tell me you’re going to chicken out before we even get the twinkle lights plugged in. Are you scared?”

His eyes flick to mine, flat and unimpressed. “I don’t chicken out, Starling. I just don’t…volunteer for public humiliation.”

“Public admiration,” I correct, leaning one shoulder against the doorframe beside him, completely invading his space. “It’s for charity. But I get it if you’re too scared.”

“Yeah, still not scared.”

“I bet you’ll back out,” I say with a grin while I finger a string from his hoodie.

“I’ll take that bet, Starling. I’ll be there even if I’m dreading it.”

I bite down on my lip to hold back a grin that is even wider at getting exactly what I want. “People are going to swoon. Probably faint. The ambulance service should be on standby. Because together, we are going to be Christmas under the tree.”

Max blinks once. “That’s supposed to make me feel better?”

“It’s supposed to make you feel festive.” I chuckle. “Me, you, strategically placed fairy lights—maybe a little fake snow?”

“Starling—”

“Hot cocoa props?” I cut in. “Matching hats? I think you’re a ‘naughty list’ guy, but we can workshop it.”

He finally exhales a laugh, more like a short huff of disbelief than anything else. But it’s a win. “You’re relentless.”

“It’s called holiday spirit,” I say, patting his bicep. “Don’t worry. I’ve got enough for both of us.”

“Unfortunately for me,” he mutters.

I pause mid-step and look over my shoulder. “Not unfortunate. Think of it as…character development. By the time I’m done, you’ll be humming carols in your sleep. Your heart will even grow three sizes.”

His mouth twitches again, and it’s so close to a smile I can practically taste the victory. “If I wake up singing, I’m blaming you.”

“That’s the goal, Calder,” I say, winking before I head for the showers. “That’s the goal.”

Behind me, he says something low I can’t quite catch, but when I glance back, he’s watching me go with that same unreadable expression, half annoyance, half…something else.