Page 76 of Falling for the Grinchy Bad Boy

“Easy,” he said. “Funnel cake. When it’s still warm with some powdered sugar on it? It’s heaven.”

“Damn, I need to try one of these funnel cakes.”

He grinned. “Maxine will be at the night market. Remind me to buy you one.”

I liked the sound of that. “Deal.”

An elderly woman selling hand-knitted scarves flagged us down from her booth.

“Excuse me, dear,” she said to me. “Aren’t you the one organizing all this? Joy Murphy?”

“That’s me,” I confirmed, stepping closer to her booth. “How’s everything going? Do you need anything?”

“Well, my table is wobbling something fierce,” she admitted, demonstrating by giving it a gentle shake that sent her carefully arranged scarves sliding dangerously toward the edge. “I’m worried it might collapse.”

Cooper was already moving, circling around to examine the table’s legs. “Looks like one of the feet is sinking into the snow,” he said, crouching down to get a better look. “Do you have anything we could use to level it out?”

Between the three of us, we managed to find some wooden shims and stabilize the table. The elderly woman thanked us profusely and insisted we each take one of her scarves as payment.

“Hand-knitted,” she said with pride.

I wrapped mine around my neck immediately, grateful for the extra warmth. I noticed Cooper casually leave a twenty-dollar bill on the table before we walked away.

I smiled but said nothing. He wasn’t the kind of man that wanted accolades or attention. He was too genuine for that. The man just liked helping people without a bunch of fuss about it.

Two booths down, we encountered our next minor crisis, a hot chocolate vendor whose propane heating element had decided to quit working.

“I don’t suppose either of you knows anything about heaters?” the vendor asked hopefully.

Cooper stepped forward without hesitation. “Let me take a look.”

I watched as he examined the equipment. There was something incredibly attractive about his competence, especially since issues with propane heaters were so far out of my wheelhouse. Might as well ask me to fix his rocket ship engine.

“Your connection is loose,” he said after a moment, making a quick adjustment. “Try it now.”

The heater flared to life with a steady flame. The vendor’s relieved smile was worth the little detour.

“Be sure not to spill any cocoa on the heating element,” I told him. “I learned that the hard way.”

Cooper snorted a little laugh. “So did all the kids at the elementary school.”

We strolled away from the happy hot chocolate vendor, each with a cup in hand. The man had insisted. This time, I had been the one to slide a few bills into his tip jar.

“You’re like a festival superhero,” I said as we walked. “Fixing tables and repairing heaters. I bet you have an S on your shirt.”

Cooper laughed. “I’m hardly a superhero. Just someone who pays attention to details.”

“Exactly. A superhero power.”

We completed our circuit of the vendors, stopping to help with a few more minor issues. By the time we made it back to the main square, the sun was beginning to set.

“Want to sit for a minute?” Cooper asked, nodding toward a small seating area where someone had set up picnic tables around a portable heater. “I could go for some of that spiced cider.”

“That sounds perfect,” I said, realizing that I was actually tired from all the walking and problem-solving. “My treat, though. You’ve been working harder than I have.”

Cooper looked like he might argue but then seemed to think better of it. “Alright. But I’m getting the next round.”

The assumption that there would be a next round made butterflies swirl in my chest. I tried not to read too much into it as I walked over to the cider stand, but the casual way he’d said it suggested he was thinking beyond just this afternoon.