Page 14 of Falling for the Grinchy Bad Boy

“Knew better about what?”

I stopped walking and faced him. “About getting my hopes up. About thinking things work out the way they’re supposed to. About believing in Christmas magic and happily ever after and all that bullshit.”

Matt’s expression softened. “Coop⁠—”

“No.” I held up my hand. “Don’t give me the speech about how Lynn doesn’t define my future. I’ve heard it. From you, from Katrina, from half the town. I get it. But you know what? Some of us learn from our mistakes.”

“What mistake? Falling in love? Trusting someone?”

I turned back to the thermal camera, focusing on the readings. “Believing it would last.”

We walked in silence for a few minutes, checking classroom after classroom. The school felt smaller than I remembered.

“I think we’re good,” Matt said. “Let’s go give them the all-clear.”

We made our way back through the cafeteria. The principal was hovering near the door.

“Are we good?” he asked with a worried expression.

“It’s clear,” Matt said.

“Who is responsible for that table?” I asked. “We’d like to explain a few things, to prevent this from happening again.”

“Cooper,” Matt groaned.

Tony was holding court with several kids. He looked our way, silently questioning us. Matt gave him a thumbs-up.

The principal opened his mouth, closed it again, and glanced toward an area where I recognized Victoria Murphy.

And that’s when I saw her.

Or rather, that’s when she saw me and promptly ducked behind a snowman.

For a second my brain refused to connect the dots. There was no way. It had been years. High school, graduation. She was long gone, living some city life, last I’d heard. She wasn’t supposed to be here.

But that was definitely her.

Joy fucking Murphy.

My gut did a strange, unwelcome lurch.

Matt noticed the way I froze. “What?” he asked, following my stare. He squinted, then grinned. “Wait a sec… is that…”

“Don’t,” I muttered.

“Oh, it is. That’s Joy Murphy. Holy hell, Coop, didn’t you⁠—”

“Shut it.” My voice came out sharper than I intended.

Joy Murphy. My sister’s best friend. The girl who lived in my house half the time growing up. She was off-limits, completely untouchable—and unforgettable.

And now, apparently, she was the woman who’d nearly burned down an elementary school making hot chocolate.

Unbelievable.

It was exactly why I hated fucking Christmas.