Page 106 of Falling for the Grinchy Bad Boy

The fact that anyone was even wondering if Lynn was back in the picture was absolutely infuriating. Did they see something I didn’t? Was Cooper still hung up on her?

The questions were like acid in my guts, but I forced myself to breathe deeply and focus on the task at hand. I couldn’t control whatever was going on between Cooper and Lynn. I couldn’t control the town gossip or the speculation or the way people were analyzing my personal life like it was a show on TV.

All I could control was the Christmas market opening, so I put my head down and kept working.

If Cooper went back to Lynn, that was out of my control too. I had no claim to the man. I wasn’t going to compete for his affections. Either he wants me or he doesn’t.

He wasn’t my man. And I wanted him to be happy. I didn’t think Lynn could do that for him, but if she did, fine.

Good riddance.

“Joy, the extension cord for the hot chocolate stand isn’t long enough,” someone called from the refreshment area.

“There’s another one in the supply box by the information booth,” I replied, grateful for something concrete to focus on.

I threw myself back into the final preparations with renewed determination. This festival was going to be perfect. Every detail would be flawless, every vendor would be happy, and every visitor would have a magical experience. I would prove that I belonged here, that I could build something meaningful and lasting in Calton Hill.

And if Cooper chose his polished ex-fiancée over me, at least I would have my professional success to fall back on.

The thought was cold comfort, but it was all I had right then.

By five-thirty, the market was as ready as it was ever going to be. The vendor booths were arranged in perfect rows, each one decorated with twinkling lights and festive displays. The ice tree Cooper had created stood majestically in its corner, a breathtaking showpiece that cast rainbow patterns across the snow in the fading light of the sinking sun. The choir was doing sound checks on the stage. Their voices blended in a harmonious warm-up exercise.

The live nativity animals had arrived. The donkey’s stage fright apparently conquered. They were being settled into their designated area by volunteers in costumes.

It looked exactly like the vision I’d had when I’d first started planning this event. Magical, welcoming, the kind of place where families would make memories and couples would hold hands and children would believe in the wonder of Christmas.

I should have felt triumphant. Instead, I felt hollow, like I was looking at my accomplishment through foggy glass.