Penn
“Are you okay?” Jaylynn asks, her voice tinged with concern, and maybe amusement. I try to drag my eyes away from the candy-cane stripes coating every square inch of the room, but it’s like a train wreck in gingerbread form. I want to look away. Really. I do. I just… can’t.
“It’s not that bad, is it?” she asks, eyes wide and hopeful.
I glance at the elf wallpaper border. The blinking string lights wrapped around the mirror. The peppermint-stick sleigh bed.
She huffs out a laugh. “What am I even saying? Of course, it’s that bad.”
“No, it’s good,” I say quickly, forcing a smile as I shake off the mild Christmas-induced panic attack. “It’s great. Festive. Cozy. Better than sleeping outside… or sharing a room with that herd of cats.”
“Clowder,” she murmurs.
“What?”
“A gathering of cats is called a is called a clowder of cats.” I stare at her and she shakes her head. “Never mind.” She grins and spins a slow circle in the middle of the room, arms out like a deranged holiday cruise director. “Welcome to the Peppermint Palace.”
I chuckle, unzipping my coat as I look around again. “They really go all out for Christmas here, huh?”
“Bad news,” she says with a wink. “This room looks like this year-round.”
I freeze mid-sleeve. “But why?”
“Some people are Christmas obsessed.”
“You’re serious, aren’t you?”
She pats a pillow shaped like a snowman’s head. “I wish that wasn’t true.”
I groan. “Jaxon’s family still owns this place, right?”
“Yep.”
Jaxon Sheffield. Small-town hockey royalty and now my teammate. He grew up right here in Snowberry Falls. He was older than me, so we never really ran in the same circles, but I know he’s a solid guy. Talented player. Always polite, even when I was just the new kid sweating through rookie camp.
I haven’t really bonded with the team much since getting called up, and I’m not sure how they feel about me after the mall incident. One rogue Santa stunt and now my position is on thin ice. Literally.
“This town probably still thinks Buddy the Elf was a documentary,” I mumble.
Jaylynn smirks. “Heads up. Jaxon gets back tomorrow. His room is right across the hall.”
I shift my duffel onto the peppermint-striped bench and try not to notice the way Jaylynn’s flannel pajama pants hug her curves as she fluffs the snowflake pillows. But the twitch in my groin says otherwise. Apparently, he didn’t get the memo about professionalism and boundaries.
Down, buddy. Now is so not the time.
It’s not that I haven’t noticed her before. Believe me, you’d have to be blind not to. But back in high school, she was untouchable. Gorgeous. Smart. Off-limits in every way. Dating Dylan since freshman year, practically wearing his class ring and his last name. Not to mention, her dad was my coach. Which meant she might as well have worn a neon sign that read—DO NOT TOUCH UNLESS YOU WANT TO SKATE SUICIDES UNTIL YOU DIE.
But her dad isn’t your coach anymore, dude.
Still. Doesn’t matter.
Because this? This whole fake-engagement-for-the-sake-of-PR thing? It’s about cleaning up my image, not complicating it with off-limit girls in flannel pajamas who unknowingly make my life harder—in every way—every time she bends over.
I snap my gaze toward the ceiling, pretending to admire the giant glittering wreath hanging from the light fixture.
It’s fine. Totally fine. All good.
Just one bed. One plan. One professional, platonic arrangement.