Page 34 of Falling for the Grinchy Bad Boy

“It’s beautiful,” I said, and meant it.

“It’s a new one my aunt ordered,” she said.

“Let’s get it up there and get this over with,” I said.

That was when we discovered our first real problem. The scissor lift, which had seemed plenty tall when we were decorating the middle of the tree, suddenly looked pathetically inadequate next to the towering top of our Christmas giant.

“It’s not going to reach,” she moaned. “Dammit. I didn’t think about the logistics of getting that star up there. The lighting ceremony is tomorrow night!”

She looked so stricken that I felt something crack inside my chest. All her excitement, all her careful planning was going to be ruined because they picked a tree that was too damn tall.

“There’s got to be a solution,” she said, but her voice was small and defeated. “Maybe I could climb up there. Or I could put a ladder on the platform of the lift and I should be able to reach it.”

I gave her a dry look. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”

She frowned. “No, I’m not. The tree has to have a topper.”

“As safety coordinator, I can’t sign off on that.” I stared up at the top of the tree, my mind racing. There had to be a way. I had climbed plenty of tall things in my day—water towers, grain silos, that ridiculous cell phone tower on a dare when I was eighteen.

“Give me ten minutes,” I told Joy and started walking away.

“Where are you going!”

“Just trust me,” I called back. “I’ve got a plan.