Page 54 of Falling for the Grinchy Bad Boy

A laugh bubbled up from somewhere deep in my chest as the memory hit me full force. “Oh my God, I completely forgot about that! You nearly dropped me when I started laughing about how the carrot nose looked like a⁠—”

“Like a certain part of male anatomy,” Cooper finished with a shake of his head. “You were so proud of yourself for making that observation.”

“I was eleven!” I protested, covering my face with my hands. “And you turned bright red and almost launched me into the snowbank.”

“You wouldn’t stop laughing,” he said, shaking his head. “Katrina was mortified that her best friend was making dirty jokes about our snowman’s dick nose.”

“I was not mortified,” Katrina said, though she was grinning. “I was impressed. Joy was always the one who said what the rest of us were thinking but were too chicken to say out loud.”

“Like the time she told Mrs. Jones that her wig was crooked during the Christmas pageant,” Cooper added, and suddenly we were all cracking up.

“It was really crooked!” I said between giggles. “Someone had to tell her.”

“You were so matter of fact about it,” Katrina said.

I buried my face in my hands again, groaning at the memory. “I was being helpful!”

“You were,” Cooper said, and there was something warm in his voice that made me look up. “You always were. Even when it was mortifying for everyone else involved.”

The way he said it—fond, almost proud—sent a flutter through my chest. I’d forgotten how Cooper used to defend my more outrageous childhood moments. Even when I embarrassed him or got us all in trouble, he had always backed me up.

“Remember the Christmas cookie incident of seventh grade?” I asked, feeling emboldened by the warmth in his eyes.

Katrina groaned. “Oh no, not the cookie incident.”

“What cookie incident?” Cooper asked, looking between us with suspicion.

“Joy decided she was going to win the bake sale by making the most elaborate Christmas cookies anyone had ever seen,” Katrina explained. “She spent three days working on these incredibly detailed sugar cookies that looked like actual works of art.”

“They were beautiful,” I said defensively. “I painted each one by hand with food coloring. Tiny little masterpieces.”

“And then?” Cooper prompted.

“And then I realized the night before the bake sale that I used salt instead of sugar in the dough,” I admitted. “Every single cookie was completely inedible. They looked gorgeous but tasted like seawater.”

Cooper burst out laughing. “Even back then, you could have used a safety coordinator.”

I laughed too. “I won’t lie. It’s been nice having your help.”

It felt good to laugh with my friends again. I missed them. When I moved away, I had left them behind. I truly missed them. Was this what I missed about Cooper? Maybe it was just the friendship, and I was trying to push adult feelings into that childhood friendship.

No.

Nope.

There were definitely some feelings there. Many feelings and naughty thoughts that would definitely put me on Santa’s shitlist.