Page 132 of Falling for the Grinchy Bad Boy

49

JOY

The town square had emptied of families and children, leaving behind only the skeleton crew of vendors packing up their gear and volunteers breaking down booths. The magical chaos of the festival was winding down, replaced by the quiet satisfaction of a job well done.

I was still riding the high of success. It had gone well. Yes, there were plenty of hiccups and near disasters, but it had been saved in the end. I was actually pretty happy with all the crazy stuff that had gone down. It made it that much more exciting.

I sat beside Cooper in one of the folding chairs directly in front of his magnificent ice tree. The embedded LED lights continued their gentle dance of color. It was even more beautiful now in the relative quiet, without the distraction of crowds and conversation to pull attention away from its ethereal glow.

Cooper had finally gotten out of the Santa suit, though he’d kept the beard on for an embarrassingly long time just to make me laugh. Now he wore his normal winter coat and jeans, looking like himself again but somehow transformed by everything that had happened tonight.

I was a little disappointed, but he promised there would be other things to strip him out of. I was already envisioning him wrapped up in a big red bow and nothing else. Or maybe I’d wear the bow, and he could unwrap me.

So many possibilities.

We passed a bottle of hard cider back and forth between us, the sweet warmth cutting through the December cold. I took a sip and handed it to him.

“Cooper, I need to thank you.”

He raised an eyebrow, settling the bottle between us in the snow. “For what?”

“For everything. For showing up tonight when I needed you most. For putting on that ridiculous costume and saving Christmas for every child in town. For standing up to Lynn in front of everyone.” I paused, gathering the words that felt too big and too important. “For being there for me even when things were muddy between us. Even when I asked for space and probably seemed like I was pushing you away.”

Cooper was quiet for a moment. “You weren’t pushing me away,” he said finally. “You were protecting yourself. There’s a difference.”

“I was scared,” I admitted. “Scared of getting hurt, scared of hurting you, scared of making the wrong choice. But you showed up anyway. You didn’t let my fear drive you away.”

“I couldn’t,” he replied simply. “I love you too much to give up without a fight.”

There it was again, those three words that had changed everything when he said them in front of the whole town. They settled between us now like a promise, warm and certain and resonating in my soul.

“I love you too,” I said, the words coming easier this time. “I think I’ve been in love with you since we were kids and didn’t even know what love was.”

Cooper laughed softly. “I was terrified of you in high school. You were this bright, fearless girl who seemed like she could conquer the world, and I was just the quiet kid who felt like a total dork.”

“You’re a still a dork,” I teased. “It’s one of the things I love about you.”

“Great,” he groaned.

“You make me feel safe, Cooper. Not just physically safe, but emotionally safe. Like I can be myself without worrying about being too much or not enough.”

The ice tree pulsed with soft light, and somewhere in the distance I could hear the last vendors calling goodbyes to each other as they loaded their trucks. But here in our little bubble of warmth and color, it felt like we were the only two people left in the world.

“I’m staying,” I said suddenly, the decision crystallizing as I spoke the words. “In Calton Hill. Whether I get the tourism job or not, whether things work out the way I planned or not, I’m staying.”

Cooper’s hand tightened around mine. “Because of me?”

“Because of you, yes. But also because of this.” I gestured around us, encompassing the festival grounds and the town beyond. “Because of the way people came together tonight. Because of how it felt to create something that brought so much joy to families. Because this place feels like home in a way nowhere else ever has.”

“Even with all the gossip and small-town drama?”

“Even with all of that. Maybe especially because of that. At least here, when people talk about you, it’s because they care about you. In the city, nobody cared enough to gossip.”

Cooper lifted our joined hands and kissed my knuckles, the gesture so tender it made my chest ache.

“I love you, Joy Murphy,” he said, each word deliberate and weighted with meaning. “I love your wild enthusiasm and your attention to detail and the way you turn every problem into a creative challenge. I love that you make me want to be braver, to take chances, to believe in happy endings again.”

“I love you too, Cooper Frost,” I replied. “I love your steady strength and your hidden romantic soul and the way you put on a stinky, musty Santa suit without hesitation because you knew it would make children happy. I love that you make me feel like I can have roots without being trapped, like I can belong somewhere without losing myself.”