Page 81 of Falling for the Grinchy Bad Boy

“Good thinking,” Cooper said. The approval in his voice sent a little thrill through me. “And we should have a maximum capacity—maybe six people inside at any given time? That would give families space to move around and choose toys without feeling crowded. And we don’t want to split up families.”

I made my own notes, adding these details to the growing list of logistics I needed to coordinate. It struck me how naturally we worked together. He knew things I would never have thought of, saw potential problems I would have missed entirely.

“You know,” I said as Pat wandered off to examine the toy inventory that was being sorted nearby, “I couldn’t have pulled any of this off safely without your input.”

“You’re giving me too much credit. You had everything well planned before I ever got involved.”

“Maybe but having all the decorations and entertainment in the world wouldn’t matter if someone got hurt because I missed an important safety detail.” I gestured toward the workshop, where volunteers were now installing the last of the exterior trim. “You’re like my Christmas miracle.”

The words came out more heartfelt than I intended. I felt heat rise in my cheeks. But it was true. Cooper had made everything better, not just safer but more enjoyable. Having him as a partner in this endeavor had turned what could have been a stressful, overwhelming project into something I genuinely looked forward to working on every day.

Cooper’s expression softened, and for a moment I thought he might say something sweet. Instead, he cleared his throat and looked down at his clipboard.

“We should probably do a final walkthrough of the market area,” he said. “Make sure everything’s positioned correctly for tomorrow night’s opening.”

“Good idea,” I agreed, though part of me wanted to stay in this moment.

Or drag him behind a tree and do something that would put me on the naughty list.

We began our circuit of the Christmas market, ostensibly checking on safety arrangements and vendor preparations. But really, we were just walking together, falling into the easy conversation and comfortable rhythm that had become so natural between us.

I thought of Cooper as a nervous abandoned dog. I couldn’t make any sudden movements. He was cool as long as we weren’t talking about anything serious. I didn’t really want to push things. I liked what we had. Part of me wanted to ask what he wanted from whatever was happening, but I wasn’t sure I was ready to open that can of worms either.

So, for now, I was good with talking about nothing. He told me a few stories from his time at the department. I told him a few stories about riding the subway.

I realized we were tiptoeing around pretty much all of high school and anything personal. We’d leave it for now. No need to dig up old drama.

The market was laid out in a large square, with vendor booths forming a perimeter and the major attractions—Santa’s workshop, a stage for the choir, and the warming stations—positioned strategically throughout the space. String lights were being hung overhead, creating a canopy of twinkling stars that would look magical once darkness fell.

The food trucks and other drink stations would stay in their places. There was going to be plenty of things to do and see once things kicked off.

“This is really going to be something special,” Cooper said as we paused near the center of the market to survey the whole setup.

“I hope so,” I replied, though I was feeling more confident than nervous at this point. “It’s been a lot of work, but seeing it all come together like this makes it worth it.”

“Definitely.”

I smiled at him, thinking about how much more worthwhile everything had become since he’d become part of the project. “Though I have to admit, there’s still one thing that’s bothering me.”

Cooper’s expression immediately shifted to alert concern. “What’s wrong?”

I led him toward the far corner of the market area, where a large empty space sat like a gap in an otherwise complete puzzle. The place was packed but the one corner felt like it needed something. “This spot. I can’t figure out what should go there. It needs to be something festive, something that fits the Christmas spirit, but also big enough to fill the space appropriately. It’s dark over here. Dark corners are never good at an event with kids. And teens. Hell, even adults.”

He flashed a grin. I had a feeling he was thinking the same thing I was. A dark corner wasn’t the worst thing. In fact, I could really go for a dark corner with me and Cooper.

He studied the empty area, his analytical mind clearly working through the problem. “Have you thought about another vendor booth? Maybe someone who hasn’t committed yet?”

“All the vendors are accounted for and positioned,” I said, shaking my head. “And honestly, I think we have enough commercial booths. This needs to be something different. Something more… fun. Like something active, not more crafts and stuff. But something that’s a break from the other stuff.”

He looked confused. “I don’t think I get it.”

I gestured vaguely, trying to articulate a vision that was more feeling than concrete idea. “Something that adds to the magic of the whole event. Something people will remember. Fun. Memorable. Active.”

Cooper was quiet for a long moment, his gaze moving from the empty space to the rest of the market layout and back again. I could practically see the wheels turning in his head. I found myself holding my breath while I waited for his assessment.

“You know what?” he said finally, and there was something in his voice that made me hopeful. My hero was going to come through for me.

Again.

“I have an idea,” he said.

“Yeah?” I felt a flutter of excitement at his tone.

“Yep.”

“What?”

He winked. “Trust me?”

I laughed. “I don’t know that I have a choice.”

“I’ll be back.”

“You’re leaving?”

“I’ll be back,” he said again.

I watched him walk away and wondered what he had up his sleeve. But I did trust him. So far, he had proven to be a huge asset and my biggest supporter through this whole journey.