Page 135 of Falling for the Grinchy Bad Boy

EPILOGUE

COOPER

It was cold. Really cold. The dry cold that made your eyes burn. I loaded the last of the discarded Christmas trees into my truck bed. It was the last haul. We had spent the last couple of days collecting all the trees from around town.

Every year after the holidays, the fire department gathered up all the old trees that families had put out for disposal and hauled them to a clearing about five miles outside of town for our annual bonfire. It was part environmental responsibility—keeping the dried trees from becoming fire hazards in people’s homes—and part tradition. The guys looked forward to it all year. It was a chance to watch something massive burn in a controlled, safe environment while sharing beer and stories about the year that had passed.

After the typical fires that were started by fireworks on New Year’s and the Thanksgiving turkey fires and the general chaos of the season, it was a good way to unwind.

This year felt different, though. This year I was bringing Joy. Last year I was in the throes of being freshly dumped. The year before I had brought Lynn.

She had been a total bitch. We only stayed an hour before she complained enough to make me leave early. And the year before that, we didn’t go because she said she was sick.

She wasn’t. She just didn’t want to go. Lynn hated the “basic” celebrations. She had some grand plans for her life. She wanted to schmooze with rich people. She wanted to climb the social ladder and hang out with public officials and people that were going somewhere. She always assumed I would go into politics, which was the only reason she accepted my job as a firefighter. She always said it was great for my background. A real hero and all that.

I couldn’t believe I allowed myself to be controlled by her for so long. People tried to tell me, and I was so brainwashed I couldn’t see it. I’m glad my friends took pity on me and didn’t hold it against me.

I pulled to a stop in front of Victoria’s house. Before I could get out of the truck, Joy was coming out the door. There was a pep in her step. She was wearing her snow boots, a long black coat, and the scarf and matching hat I bought her for Christmas.

I hopped out and ran around to open the passenger door. “What do you have there?”

“Hot chocolate,” she replied. And then shook the bag. “And cookies. Aunt Victoria insisted on sending me with a couple dozen chocolate chip cookies for the party.”

I grinned. “Sounds good.”

I kissed her. “Ready to watch some pyrotechnics?” I asked, opening the passenger door for her.

“I can’t believe you guys do this every year,” she said, settling into the seat and buckling her seatbelt. “It seems very… male.”

“Says the woman who organized a festival involving live animals and a dozen potential electrical hazards,” I replied with a grin. “Besides, fire is one of humanity’s oldest forms of entertainment. We’re just carrying on tradition. We’re firefighters. It’s kind of our thing.”

She laughed. “I don’t think I’ve been to a bonfire since the one senior year, remember?”

I groaned and shook my head. “Don’t remind me. I can’t believe we were so reckless. We could have burned down the forest. Houses. Ourselves.”

She rolled her eyes. “Teenagers have been having bonfires since forever. It’s a rite of passage.”

The drive to the clearing took us through some of Utah’s most beautiful winter landscape—rolling hills covered in pristine snow, bare trees, and the orange rocks in the distance. It was the kind of scenery that reminded you why people chose to live in places where winter could be really harsh.

We’d fallen into an easy rhythm over the last couple of weeks, learning how to be together without the crisis and drama that had marked the early stages of our relationship. She’d been staying at my place most nights. I had started keeping coffee she actually liked in my kitchen. Small adjustments that felt like the foundation of something lasting.

And that drawer had been put to good use. Actually, two drawers and a portion of my closet.

I didn’t mind. I loved it. I loved that she was becoming my other half.

“There,” I said, pointing ahead to the clearing. “Looks like Matt is getting things started.”

The bonfire site was a large open area that the fire department had used for training exercises and controlled burns for years. Far enough from any structures to be safe, but close enough to town that we could get there easily with our loads of dried Christmas trees.

Matt waved as we pulled up, gesturing toward a growing pile of trees that were piled high and ready to be added to the blaze.

“Cooper! Joy!” he called as we climbed out of my truck. “Perfect timing. We’re ready to get this thing burning hot.”

I started unloading trees while Joy made her way over to where Katrina and Sarah were setting up folding chairs in a safe perimeter around the planned fire zone. There were maybe twenty people total. Firefighters and their partners along with a few friends who had become part of the tradition over the years.

“How big is this thing going to be?” Joy asked, eyeing the pile of trees.

“Big enough to be impressive, not so big that we lose control of it,” I replied, adding my trees to the collection. “We’re firefighters. We know what we’re doing.”