Page 67 of Falling for the Grinchy Bad Boy

“Sold.” She closed the menu and leaned back in her chair. “So, how was your day? Any exciting medical emergencies?”

I told her about Harold and his rooftop reindeer adventure. She looked genuinely amused by my stories. Lynn had never wanted to hear about my job. She hated when I talked about it. It was a red flag I should have picked up on.

“Poor Harold,” she said when I finished the story. “But at least he was committed to the Christmas spirit. You have to admire his dedication.”

“That’s one way to look at it,” I agreed, surprised to realize I actually agreed with her. “Though next year I’m suggesting he hire a professional.”

“Screw that. We should invite him to volunteer with the festival.”

We ordered our food and fell into easy conversation about the festival preparations. We talked about the weather, which actually mattered when it came to an outdoor event. It felt natural, comfortable, like we’d been doing this for years instead of dancing around each other for a week.

But underneath the casual chat, I could feel the weight of what had happened between us. There was still some serious unresolved tension. We had barely scratched the itch. At least, that’s what I felt. We were both carefully avoiding the subject, but it hung in the air between us like a held breath.

Finally, as we were finishing our entrees, Joy set down her fork and looked at me directly. “Cooper, we should probably talk about the other night.”

My stomach tightened, but I nodded. “Yeah. We should.”

She was quiet for a moment, choosing her words carefully. “I need to know what you want from this. From… us. Are you even ready to try dating again? Because I don’t want to push you into something you’re not prepared for.”

The question was fair. I had been asking myself the same thing for the past two days. Was I ready? Was I healed enough from Lynn’s betrayal to risk my heart again? It wouldn’t be fair to Joy to lead her on if I wasn’t.

“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “I’m not sure anyone’s ever really ready for something like this. But I know I like spending time with you. I know I think about you when we’re apart. I know that whatever this is between us, it feels different than anything I’ve experienced before.”

Joy’s eyes searched my face, looking for something I hoped she could find. “Different how?”

I thought about how to explain it without sounding like a complete mess. “With Lynn, everything felt safe. Predictable. We had a plan, and we were following it. This feels more like…” I paused, searching for the right words. “Like standing at the edge of a cliff and not knowing if there’s ground below or just empty air.”

She smiled at that, a small, understanding smile. “Terrifying but exhilarating?”

“Exactly.” I reached across the table, covering her hand with mine. Her skin was warm, soft, and the simple contact sent electricity up my arm. “I can’t promise you I have it all figured out, Joy. I can’t promise I won’t mess this up or that I’m completely over everything that happened with Lynn. But I’d like to try. With you.”

Her fingers curled around mine. “What would trying look like?”

“Maybe we don’t put labels on it right away,” I suggested. “Maybe we just see what happens naturally. Spend time together. Get to know each other again. See if this thing between us is real or just scratching an itch.”

She was quiet for a long moment, considering this. Then she nodded. “I can do that. No pressure, no expectations. Just seeing what develops.”

“Just seeing what develops,” I agreed.

But even as I said it, I knew we were both lying to ourselves. The pressure was already there. What I felt for Joy wasn’t casual or exploratory.

It was intense and demanding and absolutely important to me.

We finished dinner and walked slowly back to our cars, neither of us seeming eager to end the evening.

“Thank you for dinner,” Joy said when we reached her car. She looked up at me.

I was a little nervous about asking her to come over. Was that too much pressure? I could just lean in and give her a kiss and end the night.

“Come over,” I blurted out and waited for her to shut me down.

“Okay.”

Joy followed me in her car. I found myself checking my rearview mirror every few seconds, as if I needed to confirm she was really there, really coming home with me.

I led her inside and turned on a few lights, then offered her something to drink, both of us maintaining the pretense that this was just a casual visit.

But the moment I handed her a glass of wine, the moment our fingers brushed, and she looked up at me with those beautiful dark eyes, all pretense evaporated.