Page 52 of Falling for the Grinchy Bad Boy

19

JOY

Cooper held the door open for me at the diner. It was a gesture so automatic I wondered if he even realized he had done it. Someone had done some decorating. By some I meant a lot. Like Christmas exploded.

Red and gold garland draped every surface. It was wrapped around the counter, looped along the windows, and strung between the ceiling fans in swooping arcs that caught the afternoon sun. Tiny white lights twinkled like captured stars. “Silver Bells” played softly from speakers hidden somewhere behind the holiday chaos. Every booth had its own festive centerpiece: miniature Christmas trees, ceramic reindeer, and yes, Santa salt and pepper shakers.

I braced myself for Cooper’s reaction. I was very aware of his aversion to all things Christmas. I didn’t necessarily fault him for it, but this was a little much. Especially after spending the morning surrounded by Christmas.

But he said nothing.

When “Jingle Bell Rock” replaced “Silver Bells” and the volume seemed to increase, he didn’t even flinch.

Progress. The thought sent a little thrill through me as I settled across from him. He shrugged out of his coat. Underneath, he wore a long-sleeved shirt that did absolutely sinful things to his broad shoulders. It was another fire department shirt that was perfectly normal, but it was snug. The kind of shirt most people would wear under a sweater. It hugged his biceps and accentuated his defined chest muscles.

“Coffee?” Mabel appeared beside our table with a pot already tilted toward our cups.

“Please,” I said, wrapping my hands around the warm ceramic as she poured.

“You eating or just warming up?” Mabel asked, pulling out her order pad.

“Eating,” Cooper said, reaching for one of the laminated menus tucked behind the Santa shakers. “We’ve been working up an appetite all morning.”

I picked up my menu, hyperaware of how his knee brushed mine under the small table. The brief contact sent heat shooting up my thigh. I had to remind myself to breathe normally. This was a problem. This inconvenient, overwhelming attraction that hit me every time we were in the same space was messing with my head.

Cooper was gorgeous, yes, with the kind of rugged handsomeness that could make a smart woman do stupid things. But it was more than that. I was wildly attracted to a man who might not be ready for what I was starting to feel.

Hell, I might not even be staying in town. I came home because I had nowhere else to go. I didn’t look for an apartment because in the back of my mind I saw my return as temporary. I wasn’t finished trying to make my marketing career work.

But what was I doing? I was actually looking forward to the job the mayor offered. I didn’t think I would, but I was actually having fun with the festival planning. It wasn’t marketing exactly, but if I got the job, I could use my marketing skills to grow the many events the town put on.

And then I would be in town. With Cooper.

If I got together with Cooper—and God, did I want to get together with Cooper—I wouldn’t want it to be some cheap temporary fling. I would want to give it a real try. I would want to see where a relationship with him could go when we stopped dancing around each other and admitted that something real was building between us. It was that little spark from all those years ago.

But what if he wasn’t ready? What if I was just another complication in a life he was trying to simplify?

I stared at the menu without really seeing it, acutely aware of Cooper’s presence across from me. He’d gone quiet again, that thoughtful silence that meant he was processing something. His hair was still damp from the snow, his sandy hair darker now that it was wet. My fingers itched to brush it back from his forehead.

“The pot roast is good,” he said suddenly. I realized I’d been staring at the description of the turkey club for five minutes.

“Thanks.” I smiled, hoping I looked more composed than I felt. “I was trying to decide between comfort food and something lighter.”

“Go with comfort,” he advised, those blue eyes meeting mine. “It’s that kind of day.”

I was certain something had thawed in him. Progress, I thought again, and let myself hope. Could we be friends again? Friends that maybe transitioned into something more.

“Joy!”

Cooper and I both looked up as Katrina approached our table. Her cheeks were pink from the cold, and snowflakes clung to her dark hair.

“Mind if I join you?” she asked, already sliding into the booth beside me before either of us could answer. “I’m freezing my begonias off.”

Any simmering romantic mood—and there had definitely been something heating up—evaporated as Katrina waved Mabel over for coffee and launched into an animated recap of her morning. I caught Cooper’s eye across the table and saw my own mix of amusement and disappointment reflected there.

I wasn’t crazy. He had been feeling the vibe.

What the hell?