Page 30 of Falling for the Grinchy Bad Boy

I snapped open my binder. “Great. Now, first thing on the list: decorating the town square for the Christmas tree lighting ceremony. The businesses around the square are handling their own window displays, but we need to coordinate so nobody gets their wires crossed. Literally. That’s on you. I don’t want to break any of your little rules.”

“They’re not little rules,” he said. “I’m getting coffee.”

He stood up and walked up to the counter.

I could quit. I could apologize to my aunt, load up my shit, and drive to LA. That had been my plan initially. The New York advertising thing didn’t work out for me, but LA had a lot of business. But after applying to no less than twenty companies and getting nowhere, I decided Utah was the only option.

But there were more businesses. Maybe San Francisco. Or Seattle.

Cooper returned and sat down with his coffee. I blinked and brought myself back to the present.

He grunted. “As long as I don’t have to string any lights myself, it’ll be fine.”

“Noted.” I scribbled NO LIGHTS FOR COOPER on my notepad, just to annoy him.

His eyes narrowed. “And no Christmas music while we set up. Please.”

“Absolutely.” I kept a straight face, even though Mariah Carey was belting from the speakers overhead. “Silent setup. Got it. Exactly what safety rule does that violate?” I made sure my tone was dripping with sweetness.

“Mine. My fucking rule.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Is this just for me or are you really this big of an asshole?”

“Can we get this over with?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, do you think I’m actually enjoying spending time with you?”

He sipped his coffee and said nothing.

We went through the rest of the binder. Well, I went through it, talking with my hands, flipping tabs, pointing at the charts I had made. Cooper mostly sat there, throwing in dry comments that made me want to both roll my eyes and laugh.

And slap him.

Since when was I turned on by the asshole thing? Just sitting there, he was gorgeous. My eyes were struggling to stay focused on my binder. I kept looking at his forearms. The veins popped out. He had taken off his jacket. A short bomber style with CHFD in the corner. He wasn’t wearing the slacks from the other day. Instead, he was wearing jeans and a henley with the sleeves pushed up.

If I would have known it was him, I might have packed my shit and drove west.

Why did men get hotter with age? It was so unfair.

I cleared my throat and forced myself to focus on the matter at hand.

“Santa’s Market setup is next Saturday morning,” I said, tapping the page.

“We’ll need barriers around the generators, just in case kids get curious,” he said.

“Barriers. Right.” Okay, so maybe I did need a safety guy. I wouldn’t have considered that.

“Generators and kids don’t mix. I’ll handle it.”

“Christmas Choir performance⁠—”

“Earplugs?” he asked.

I ignored him. “I’m sure you have something unsafe about people singing.”

“We’ll need to make sure the temporary stage is stable. Safety rails, too.”

I nodded. Once again, he was right.