Page 36 of Falling for the Grinchy Bad Boy

“Alright, let’s get this positioned,” Cooper said, all business now. He climbed back into the truck and slowly maneuvered it into place next to the tree. The ladder was impressive—much more substantial than the scissor lift, with proper safety railings and everything.

As he worked the controls to extend the ladder, I realized something that made my stomach drop to somewhere around my ankles. Someone was going to have to climb up there. With a two-foot crystal star. In December wind.

Cooper shut off the truck and walked back over to me. I held out the star.

He stared at it, then at me, then back at the star. “What’s this?”

“It’s either me or you going up there,” I said, trying to keep my voice light. “Which do you think is safer?”

He rolled his eyes. “Me? I have to put the star on the tree? Isn’t that some big honor or something?”

“I want someone who isn’t going to fall to their death to climb up there,” I corrected. “And between the two of us, you’re the one who actually knows what they’re doing on a ladder.”

He looked up at the extended ladder, then back at the star. He was acting like there was something personally offensive about putting the star on.

“I swear it won’t make your heart grow three sizes too big.”

He frowned. “What the fuck does that mean?”

I almost laughed at his surly tone. “I know you’ve seen the Grinch.”

He scowled again. “You’re so weird.” He muttered something under his breath that sounded distinctly like cursing, but he took the star. “Fine.

Everyone watched him climb like he was taking a Sunday stroll. How could we not? Cooper Frost, Mr. Anti-Christmas himself, was climbing with a star tucked carefully under his arm. He climbed steadily, confidently, like he’d done this a thousand times before.

He probably had. He was in his element, and it was ridiculously attractive.

The higher he got, the more nervous I became. What if the wind picked up? What if the ladder wasn’t positioned quite right? What if he slipped? I found myself holding my breath, my hands clenched into fists at my sides. We probably should have had another firefighter on hand to help out.

“That boy knows what he’s doing,” Mike said. “Take a breath.”

He was right. Even from the ground, I could see Cooper’s careful movements as he reached the top of the tree. He took his time placing the star, making sure it was secure, testing it before letting go. The whole process took maybe five minutes, but it felt like an hour.

When he finally started back down, the star was perfectly positioned at the very top of our tree. It was beautiful. It was perfect. I couldn’t wait to see the lighting ceremony. That tree was gorgeous. I didn’t want to pat myself on the back, but it had turned out beautifully.

I started clapping before I could stop myself. The sound seemed to break some kind of spell. Suddenly everyone was applauding.

Cooper’s face went bright red as he climbed down. I could tell he was absolutely hating every second of the attention. But he had done it. He’d saved the day. I was so grateful I could have kissed him right there in front of everyone.

Which would probably have made him hate the attention even more.

When his feet touched the ground, he immediately stepped away from the ladder and looked anywhere but at the applauding crowd. I wanted to throw my arms around him, but I settled for beaming at him like he was my hero.

“Cooper, you’re amazing,” I said, probably too loudly. “Seriously, you saved my bacon.”

“It’s just a star,” he said, but I caught him glancing up at the tree with what looked suspiciously like satisfaction.

The thing really was spectacular. Thirty feet of perfectly decorated Christmas tree, covered in lights and garlands and ornaments, topped with a beautiful star. In the growing twilight, it looked magical, like the Christmas tree at the North Pole.

Cooper stood there for a long moment, just looking at it. His expression was unreadable, but something in his posture had relaxed. Like maybe, for just a minute, he was remembering why people loved Christmas.

“It looks good,” he said finally, and coming from Cooper, that was practically a rave review.

“It looks perfect,” I corrected. “Thanks to you. I couldn’t have done it without your help.”

He shrugged, but I caught the hint of a smile before he could hide it. “Got any more of those peppermint mochas?”

My heart did that flippy thing again. He was staying. Mr. Bah-Humbug himself was asking for more Christmas drinks. That had to be a good sign, right?

“Absolutely,” I said, probably grinning like an idiot. “Coming right up.”

As I headed toward the coffee cart, I couldn’t stop stealing glances back at Cooper. He retracted the fire truck’s ladder. Every now and then, I caught him looking up at the tree and the star he’d just placed there.

Maybe Christmas wasn’t completely hopeless for Cooper Frost after all. And maybe, just maybe, I was starting to crack through that wall he’d built around himself. I didn’t think there were any Christmas miracles in our future, but if we could add a little cheer to his frozen heart, that would be good enough.

Tomorrow night’s lighting ceremony was going to be perfect, and for the first time since taking this job, I was absolutely certain everything was going to work out just fine. I could do this. And as much as I hated to admit it, Cooper and I actually worked really well together.