Page 21 of Falling for the Grinchy Bad Boy

7

JOY

Ifelt like I was sitting outside the principal’s office waiting to get my punishment for one misstep or another. I had plenty of experience sitting in hard chairs and awaiting my fate after I messed up.

Technically this wasn’t school and I was twenty-seven years old, but the sinking feeling in my stomach was exactly the same.

The chairs outside the mayor’s office were hard. It smelled faintly of lemon polish and fake pine. I hated those air fresheners that tried to pretend it smelled anything like Christmas.

It didn’t. It just stunk.

My knee bounced and I had to fight the urge to bite my nails.

“I shouldn’t be here,” I whispered to Aunt Victoria. “This was a terrible idea. I should just wait tables. Learn to knit. Anything but this.”

She gave me a look over her glasses. “Joy, you messed up the hot chocolate. You didn’t commit arson.”

“The fire alarm went off,” I hissed. “The kids had to evacuate. Firemen had to show up. That’s basically one step away from arson.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“I’m being realistic.”

“You’re being dramatic and realistic, which is a very Joy Murphy combination.” She patted my knee, forcing it to stop bouncing. “Listen, sweetheart. There is a learning curve. Everyone has one. You’ll get adjusted.”

“I shouldn’t be involved in the fest,” I muttered, staring at the mayor’s frosted glass door. “I’ll just mess it all up.”

My aunt smirked. “Well, if you do, at least it’ll be memorable. That’s half of event planning—making sure people talk about it afterward. And there are always little mishaps. It’s what makes it exciting.”

“Yeah, and nothing says festive like remember when the cafeteria almost went up in flames?”

“Joy.” Her tone softened, but it had that firm undercurrent that meant she wasn’t letting me wriggle out of this. She really wanted me to take over her role in the planning committee.

“Are you sick?” I blurted out.

“What?”

“Why are you so determined to pass the torch?” I asked. “Are you ill?”

She laughed. “Honey, I’m healthy as a horse. I’m not going anywhere. At least not six feet under. I might travel. I would like to have my time freed up. You’re young. You’ve got your finger on the pulse of America. You know what people like. It’s time to breathe new blood into this thing.”

“I did advertising.”

“Same thing.”

It kind of was.

“And my company fired me,” I reminded her.

She waved a hand. “And they’re fools. You’re talented.”

“You’re my aunt. You have to think that. The mayor is probably going to slap me with a big fat bill after the incident yesterday. I’m sure someone has to pay for the firemen showing up to lecture me.”

“I’ve known Sally for years. We go way back. She’s not going to scream at you. She just wants to make sure you’re supported. You’ll see. It’ll be fine.”

Before I could protest further, the secretary opened the door. “Mayor Winslow will see you now.”

I inhaled sharply, as though I were about to be wheeled into surgery. Or face a firing squad.