Page 19 of Falling for the Grinchy Bad Boy

She didn’t look up from her phone. “Me.”

“Do you know who I just saw?”

“Rudolph?”

I scowled. “Joy. Fucking. Murphy.”

That got her attention. She shot upright, phone nearly clattering to the desk, eyes wide as saucers. “She’s in town?”

“Apparently.”

“That sneaky little bitch,” she said, but with affection. “She didn’t even tell me. Where did you see her?”

“At the call.” I dropped into the chair opposite her, scrubbing a hand over my face. “School cafeteria. Nearly burned the whole building down making hot chocolate.”

That made her laugh so hard she snorted. “Classic Joy.”

“Not funny.”

“Very funny.” She wiped her eyes. “God, I wonder if she still has the same number.”

“I didn’t exactly get a chance to catch up. Was a little busy explaining fire safety. All I know is she’s back and staying with her aunt.”

“Victoria?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, I’m calling her,” she said immediately, already digging through her contacts.

I groaned. “Of course you are.”

“Don’t give me that tone. This is exciting! Not all of us are going to pout for the rest of our days. You’ve been sulking for a year. I say this with love but get over it already.”

For a while we just sat there, her texting furiously, me staring at the radio console lights.

Finally, I sighed. “You know what I hate about this season?”

“Everything now?” she said, still grinning.

“People lose their goddamn minds. It’s like Christmas eats their brain cells. They do shit no sane person would do any other time of year and then we have to swoop in and clean up.”

“Like gluing gingerbread to your face?”

“Exactly.” I pointed at her. “Exhibit A. And cocoa fires. Exhibit B.”

“And we won’t even talk about the number of people that fall off their ladders while trying to hang lights,” she said.

I nodded. “Or slip on the ice while trying to walk their big ass dogs.”

“Speaking of ice and dogs,” Katrina said, setting her phone aside. “Did you hear about Old Man Carson?”

I raised an eyebrow. “What about him?”

“He was out walking that massive lab of his, the one that’s basically the size of a small horse, and the dog saw a squirrel or something. Took off like a rocket.”

I could already see where this was going. “Please tell me he let go of the leash.”

“Nope.” She shook her head, grinning. “Held on tight. Got dragged halfway down Maple Street before he finally let go. Scraped up his knees, tore his coat, the whole nine yards.”