Page 57 of Falling for the Grinchy Bad Boy

“Right. Survival.”

“First, let’s get our coats. Then we’ll see what else we can find.”

She brightened up. “Do you think they’d get mad if we burn a few desks for warmth?”

I chuckled and shook my head. “Aside from the infinite reasons that’s a bad idea, there’s no ventilation in here. The smoke would be a problem.”

“Always so smart,” she said, sighing. “I guess we’ll have to stay warm the old-fashioned way.”

We made our way back to the storage room where we’d left our outer gear. Our phone lights created dancing shadows on the walls. The building was already noticeably colder.

“Oh!” She stopped suddenly, shining her light into one of the boxes we had stored earlier. “There’s a Santa costume in here. The padding might help insulate.”

I looked where she was pointing. Sure enough, there was a full Santa suit, red velvet coat with white fur trim, matching pants, black belt, the works.

“Good thinking,” I said, pulling out the coat. I shrugged it on over my jacket. It was ridiculous—I looked like Santa’s younger, taller brother—but it was warm.

Joy had pulled on the matching pants over her leggings and boots, cinching the elastic waistband tight. Even in the dim light, I could see she was trying not to laugh.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing. It’s just…” She gestured between us. “We look like the world’s most mismatched Christmas pageant.”

She was right. We were ridiculous. I was wearing a Santa coat over my winter jacket, and she was swimming in red velvet pants.

And then she started giggling. She was laughing so hard she had to lean against the wall for support. The sound was infectious, and before I knew it, I was chuckling too.

“I’m sorry,” she gasped between laughs. “It’s just—we’re snowed into city hall wearing a Santa suit, eating vending machine food by phone light. If you’d told me this morning this is how my day would end…”

“It’s not exactly how I planned to spend my evening either,” I admitted, but I was smiling now. When was the last time I actually smiled? Really smiled, not just the polite expression I wore for victims and colleagues?

“We should probably stay in the breakroom,” I said. “Smaller room. No windows. It will stay the warmest.”

“And we can smash a vending machine if we get hungry.”

“I don’t think we’re going to be here forever,” I said dryly. “No need to commit a crime.”

We returned to the break room. Our snacks were still on the table. We sat down in the dark with only my phone light on. We wanted to conserve battery power. We ate and drank our sodas and then sat there.

Suddenly, the room felt a hell of a lot smaller.

“I’ve never actually sat on Santa’s lap,” Joy murmured.

My brain short-circuited. “Joy⁠—”

But she was already moving, settling herself across my lap with a playful grin. “So, Santa,” she said in a mock-innocent voice, “I’ve been very good this year.”

The moment started silly. Ridiculous, even. But something shifted as soon as she settled against me. The weight of her body in my lap and the way she looked at me changed everything.

“Have you really been good?” I asked, my voice coming out rougher than I’d intended.

Her smile faded, replaced by something I couldn’t quite read. “That depends,” she said softly. “What’s your definition of good?”

The air between us seemed to thicken, charged with possibility. I was acutely aware of every sensation. The way her hand rested on my chest and how her eyes kept dropping to my mouth made it pretty damn clear what she wanted from Santa this year.

I should have made a joke. Should have lightened the moment, stepped back from whatever precipice we were approaching. But I couldn’t seem to make myself move. Couldn’t make myself want to move.

“Joy.” Her name came out like a warning, though I wasn’t sure if it was meant for her or for me.

“Cooper.” She shifted slightly. The movement sent heat shooting through me. “I⁠—”

She didn’t finish the sentence. Instead, she leaned forward until her forehead rested against mine. We stayed like that for a long moment, breathing the same air, balanced on the edge of something that would change everything.

All I had to do was stop thinking and start feeling.

All I had to do was let go.