Page 35 of Falling for the Grinchy Bad Boy

11

JOY

Istared up at our magnificent, star-less tree, feeling like I might actually cry. All that work, all those hours of planning, all the volunteers who’d given up their afternoon—and we were going to fail because I’d been too ambitious with the tree selection. The mayor was going to be so disappointed. Aunt Victoria would probably never recommend me for anything ever again. I could already see the newspaper headline: “New Event Coordinator’s Christmas Tree Catastrophe Crushes Community Spirit.”

A Christmas tree wasn’t a Christmas tree without a star. I had to figure out how to get it up there. I walked around the base and reconsidered my idea of putting a ladder on the lift. Maybe if I put a couple of pallets on the lift and the ladder on top of that, I could reach. I couldn’t ask one of the taller guys to do it. If anybody was going to break their neck, it was going to be me. I had gotten us into the situation.

Maybe I could climb up the tree. I used to climb trees all the time. But I would only mess up all the careful decorating.

“A drone!” I blurted out the words and then looked around to make sure no one heard me. I was talking to myself.

As usual.

Maybe I was being dramatic, but this star meant everything. Not just to me, but to the whole town. I was going to be the one to ruin a beautiful tradition because I had picked a tree that belonged in a forest, not a town square.

I was mentally calculating whether we had time to find a smaller tree and start over when I heard a strange sound. It was similar to the big diesel engine of the truck that had delivered our magnificent tree.

Then I saw the flash of red lights reflecting off the shop windows, and my heart stopped. Fire truck. Oh God, was something on fire? Had someone been hurt during the tree setup? I spun around, scanning the remaining volunteers for injuries, my mind racing through worst-case scenarios.

But the truck wasn’t speeding. It was moving slowly and it was heading straight for our little corner of chaos. As it got closer, I could make out the driver through the windshield. My heart did this funny little flip-flop thing in my chest.

Cooper.

The fire truck pulled right up to the curb where I was standing. Cooper shut off the engine and stared at me. He sat there for a moment, like he was second-guessing himself, then climbed out of the cab with that easy confidence he always had. Even when he was clearly uncomfortable, which he definitely was right now, judging by the way he kept running his hand through his hair.

“Cooper?” I managed to squeak out. “What are you—I mean, is everything okay? I swear I haven’t started any fires this time.”

He walked around to the front of the truck, not quite meeting my eyes. “No fire. Just thought maybe we could solve your star problem.”

I blinked at him, not understanding. “My star problem?”

He gestured to the massive ladder mounted on top of the truck. “Fire truck ladder extends to about forty feet. Should be more than enough to reach the top of your tree.”

I felt something melt inside my chest. He was saving the day. For me. For the star. For a Christmas tradition he probably thought was ridiculous because Cooper had made it clear he could be the granddaddy of the Grinch.

“You got a fire truck,” I said stupidly, because apparently my brain had short-circuited.

He shrugged like it was no big deal. “Figured this qualifies as one of my official duties. My chief did put me in charge of safety and I can’t think of a better way to finish the decorating job safely.”

“Cooper.” I couldn’t seem to form complete sentences. “This is… you’re…”

“It’s just a ladder, Joy. Don’t make it a big thing.”

But it was a big thing. It was huge. Not just because he solved our problem, but because he had done it for me. Despite his obvious discomfort with all the Christmas fanfare, despite the fact that he clearly wanted to be anywhere else, he’d gone out of his way to make sure our tree had its star.

He rescued me.

Tears pricked at my eyes and I blinked them back furiously. The last thing Cooper needed was me getting all weepy on him. “Thank you,” I said. My voice came out all wobbly. “Really. Thank you so much. I thought we were going to have to disappoint everyone, and the mayor is expecting everything to be perfect tomorrow night. Aunt Victoria stuck her neck out for me with this job, and⁠—”

“Hey.” His voice was gentle. When I looked up at him, his expression had softened. “It’s going to be fine. We’ll get your star up there.”

The way he said “we” made my stomach do little flips again. Like we were a team. Like he wasn’t just helping out of obligation or politeness, but because he actually cared about making this work.

Did he still think of us as friends? Friends who kissed?

A small crowd had gathered around the fire truck, murmuring with excitement and curiosity. I could see Bob and Mike Torres nodding like they agreed. The star thing probably should have been addressed before we raised the tree, but whatever. It was done. Cooper was going to fix it. I hated that he was saving my ass, but I supposed it was in his job description. He saved people all the time.

I wasn’t special.