Page 46 of Falling for the Grinchy Bad Boy

16

COOPER

I’d been sitting in my backyard for the better part of two hours, staring into the flames of my fire pit and nursing what was probably my third bourbon. Maybe fourth. I stopped counting after the second one failed to stop the tingling in my lips.

The kiss. Damn, the kiss.

I had replayed it about a hundred times in my head, from the moment Joy grabbed my hands to the second she pulled away looking mortified. The way she’d risen up on her tiptoes, the soft press of her mouth against mine, the split second where my brain had short-circuited and I actually kissed her back before reality crashed in.

It had lasted maybe three seconds. Three seconds that felt like they’d rearranged something fundamental inside my chest.

The kiss was middle-school level but that didn’t stop my brain from jumping straight to very adult thoughts. I honestly didn’t know what would have happened had she not bolted like a scared rabbit. I completely blocked out the crowd and who she was. I was ready to pull her against me and drag her into the nearest shadowy alley to keep that kiss going.

It had been too long since I had sex. If a chaste kiss could make me hard as a rock with the effects lingering for hours, I really needed to get laid.

The fire crackled and popped, sending sparks up into the December night. I took another sip of bourbon. The burn down my throat was nothing compared to the fire Joy had lit with that impulsive kiss. A fire that no amount of alcohol was going to put out.

Because this wasn’t the first time Joy Murphy had kissed me and then run away.

Ten years ago.

Last party of the summer. The whole crew was down at Miller’s Lake—me, Katrina, Joy, Lynn, and a handful of other kids from our class. Someone had built a bonfire on the beach, and we were all sitting around it, drinking stolen beer and pretending we weren’t terrified about going off into the world to do the adult thing. College. Jobs. Life.

Joy had been quiet all night, which was unusual for her. She was supposed to leave for college in New York. It was going to be so strange not having her around. Her energy. That pretty smile that always meant she was up to no good and you had to decide if you were willing to go along for the ride. Joy Murphy was the sunshine on a dreary day. I couldn’t imagine not having her hanging around the house.

Teasing her was the highlight of my day.

“Cooper,” she said, appearing at my elbow while I was helping Lynn gather firewood. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

I’d followed her away from the group, into the trees that bordered the lake. She had seemed nervous, fidgeting with the hem of her tank top, not quite meeting my eyes. Joy was never nervous. Not around me. We were friends. Friends that picked on each other but she knew I always had her back.

“What’s up?” I’d asked.

“I don’t want any unfinished business before I leave,” she said, which had confused the hell out of me.

“What do you mean?”

Instead of answering, she had stepped closer, close enough that I could smell her shampoo, something flowery that had been driving me crazy for months.

“This,” she’d whispered, and then she was kissing me.

Not the quick, grateful peck from tonight. It had been a real kiss, soft and sweet and hungry, everything I’d been dreaming about since sophomore year when I first started noticing that my sister’s best friend wasn’t just annoying anymore. She’d tasted like strawberry lip gloss and the Coke we’d been sharing, and when her hands had fisted in my shirt, I’d thought I might actually die from how perfect it felt.

For about ten seconds, I had kissed her back with everything I had. Poured three years’ worth of carefully hidden feelings into that kiss, let myself believe that maybe she felt the same way I did.

Then she’d pulled back, looked at me with wide, panicked eyes, and bolted. Just ran back toward the fire, leaving me standing there in the trees with my heart hammering and my lips still tingling.

I hadn’t seen her alone again before she left the next morning. And when she’d come back for Thanksgiving months later, she’d acted like nothing had happened. Like we hadn’t shared the kind of kiss that had kept me awake for weeks afterward.

Sitting in my backyard now, ten years later, I could still remember every detail of that night. The way her hair had felt under my fingers, the little sound she’d made when I’d deepened the kiss, the look of absolute terror on her face when she’d realized what we’d done.

History repeating itself. Joy Murphy kissing me like her life depended on it, then running away like I was contagious.

I should have stopped her from leaving tonight. Should have grabbed her hand before she could disappear into that crowd. I should have kissed her properly instead of standing there like an idiot while she apologized for the best three seconds I had in months.

But I had been too shocked by the sudden rush of memory and desire and something that felt dangerously close to hope. By the time my brain had caught up with what was happening, she was gone, leaving me standing there with half the town watching me with curious looks.

I never really thought of myself as the kind of guy that got tripped up. I usually had a pretty good handle on things. Before Lynn, I wasn’t necessarily a player, but I had game. That woman fucked me up. And I let it happen.