I blink. “Jesus Christ.”
She just smirks. “May your water pressure be merry and bright.”
I grab my bag and head for the bathroom. The second I step inside, I immediately regret it. My eyes start to water as a riot of red and green assaults my retinas. Candy cane stripes. Snowflake decals. A reindeer shower curtain staring at me like it knows I locked its friend in the closet. Honestly, it’s like someone let Buddy the Elf loose with a glue gun and zero adult supervision.
I turn on the water, strip out of my clothes, and crawl under the spray, enjoying the warmth soaking through my skin. I stay there longer than necessary. Letting the water hit me like it could somehow rinse away the last few weeks. The headlines. The commentary. The hit. The Santa incident.
God, I decked Santa.
And yeah, I’d do it again. The guy was a drunk mall stand-in who told a five-year-old there was no such thing as magic, and pulled his beard down to show her even Santa was fake. Fucking asshole deserved it.
But now I’m suspended. Reputational roadkill. The guy who took down St. Nick in front of a crowd and a hundred camera phones.
And yet... that punch landed me here. In this ridiculous peppermint nightmare. With Jaylynn.
Jaylynn Quinn. My girlfriend. Fake, sure, but still. Kind of wild.
I snort out a laugh and lean my head against the tile. I have no idea if we can actually pull this off. But if pretending to date her gets me a warm bed, a hot shower, and maybe—maybe—a clean image that secures my spot on the Bucks, then I’ll play the part.
Even if I don’t plan to touch her. Unless, of course, she asks me to.
Fuck.
But truth is, I want to see her get back on her feet too. Jaylynn’s always been kind—even in high school, when kindness wasn’t exactly trending. We didn’t run in the same circles, but she never treated me like I didn’t belong. And her dad is the reason I got called up—eventually.
He didn’t move me up when I thought I was ready. Maybe he didn’t think I had NHL-level value. Or maybe he just knew what the league really wanted from me. But he always treated me with respect. That counted for something.
I shut off the water, towel off, and pull on my T-shirt and sweats. Quietly, I crack the door open, not wanting to wake Jaylynn if she’s asleep.
The room’s dark now, lit only by moonlight slanting through the frosted window. The elf closet remains mercifully closed. I pad across the room and pull back the blanket?—
“What the?—”
I leap back like I’ve been electrocuted, nearly knocking over the bedside lamp. My heart slams into my ribs as I catch a flash of red staring up at me from the sheets.
It’s the elf.
Lying. In. The. Bed.
I suck in a breath, one hand pressed to my chest. “Oh, hell no?—”
Then I hear it. A snort.
Jaylynn.
She’s trembling under the covers, trying—and failing—to stifle her laughter. Her whole body shakes as a giggle bubbles up and finally breaks free.
“You should’ve seen your face,” she wheezes.
I stare at the elf, now curled under the blanket like it’s ready for a bedtime story, then look back at her, deadpan.
“I miss the cats.”
3
Jaylynn
When I feel Penn stir beside me, I roll onto my side, rest my cheek on my hand, and chirp, “Good morning, lover,” in a sing-song voice so high-pitched it could shatter glass—or at least any illusion of me being cool. Even I wince.