Page 136 of Falling for the Grinchy Bad Boy

Tony appeared with a drip torch, the standard equipment for controlled burns. “Everyone ready? Cooper, you want to do the honors since you brought fresh blood to the party?”

I looked at Joy, who was watching the proceedings with obvious fascination. “Want to help light our first bonfire together?”

“Is that safe?” she asked, which made me love her even more.

“Come on. It’s tradition.”

She joined me at the edge of the pile. I showed her how to use the drip torch to create a line of ignition along the base of the trees. The dried needles caught immediately, flames racing upward with a satisfying whoosh that sent sparks dancing into the darkening sky.

Within minutes, we had a bonfire that any Viking would be proud of, twenty feet tall and throwing enough heat that we had to back our chairs up twice. The flames painted everyone’s faces in warm orange light. The crackling and popping of burning pine filled the air. It was such a primal satisfaction, watching the flames. There was just something about a bonfire that reached deep in your bones.

“Now this is what I call a proper fire,” Matt said.

We arranged ourselves in a loose circle around the blaze, passing around drinks and sharing the kind of easy conversation that came with watching something spectacular burn safely.

“So, Joy, what’s the verdict?” Tony asked. “Think you can handle dating a firefighter long term?”

Joy looked at me with a smile that made my chest warm despite the January cold. “I think I can manage. He comes with some useful skills.”

“Like what?” Elijah asked.

“Well, he can create ice sculptures out of thin air, he looks surprisingly good in a Santa suit, and he’s excellent at preventing people from getting trampled by goats.”

The group laughed. I felt that familiar surge of pride at how easily Joy had fit into my community. Her community once again. She belonged here with these people. Always had. I was so glad she was back.

“I want to make a toast,” I said suddenly, standing up and raising my thermos of coffee. “To second chances.”

The group raised their various beverages in response.

“To finding joy when you least expect it,” I continued, catching Joy’s eye and seeing her smile at my deliberate play on words. “To communities that take care of their own, and to the people brave enough to start over when life doesn’t go according to plan.”

“Hear, hear,” Matt said and raised his cup. Everyone drank to the toast.

As I settled back into my chair beside Joy, she leaned close to my ear.

“Speaking of second chances,” she said quietly, “I have some news.”

I turned to look at her. “Yeah?”

“The mayor offered me the job,” she said. “Tourism coordinator for the city. Full time, benefits, the works.”

My heart did something acrobatic in my chest. “And?”

“And I accepted.” Her smile was radiant in the firelight. “I’m officially sticking around. Hope you’re ready for that.”

I pulled her close, kissing her thoroughly despite the audience of firefighters around us. We tested the strength of the camping chair. It held. Someone whistled appreciatively, but I didn’t care. Joy was staying. She was building a life here, with me, in the place that had become home for both of us.

“I love you,” I said against her lips.

“I love you too,” she replied. “Even if you do insist on setting things on fire for entertainment.”

We settled back in our chairs, Joy tucking herself against my side while the bonfire continued to rage in front of us. The flames had died down slightly from their initial intensity, but the heat was still strong enough to keep us warm in the chilly evening air.

“You know, there’s something poetic about this,” Joy said. “Burning up the old year to make space for the new one.”

“Very philosophical,” I agreed. “Though mostly we just like big fires.”

“That too. But I’m thinking we could create this as part of a New Year’s celebration for next year.”