Page 95 of Falling for the Grinchy Bad Boy

35

JOY

Iwas out of my car before Cooper had even turned off his engine. My heart hammered against my ribs as I watched him climb out of his truck. He looked exhausted, shoulders heavy with the weight of whatever he’d just dealt with, his uniform streaked with soot and grime. But he was whole, he was safe, and the relief that flooded through me was almost overwhelming.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice rougher than usual as he approached.

“Hey yourself.” I reached up to touch his face. My fingers traced the line of his cheek where a black mark streaked the firm jawline. “You look like you’ve been through hell.”

“Just a turkey fryer fire. Nothing too bad.”

There was something in his eyes that suggested it was more complicated than he was letting on. I didn’t push. Instead, I took his hand and led him toward the house. “Come on. Let me take care of you.”

“I’m okay,” he said with a laugh. “I normally would clean up before I came home but you said⁠—”

“I’m glad you came straight home,” I said. “Am I being dramatic? This is probably dumb, right? It’s the first actual fire you’ve been on since I’ve been back and I just⁠—”

“Come on,” he said.

I felt like a koala on his back. I didn’t know why, but I had actually been afraid. I had let my imagination run away and imagined the many different ways he could have been hurt.

“Want a beer?” he asked as he walked to the kitchen.

“Please.” Truthfully, I wanted a bourbon. And a scotch. And then maybe a beer. Yes, it was a song, but it felt very accurate.

I took a long sip of my beer, watching Cooper over the rim of the bottle. He was standing at the kitchen counter, still in his dirty uniform, staring down at his beer. The silence stretched between us, heavy with whatever he wasn’t saying.

“So,” I said finally, unable to take the quiet anymore. “Tell me about the fire.”

He looked up, seeming to shake himself out of whatever thoughts were consuming him. “Like I said, turkey fryer fire. Someone tried to deep fry a frozen turkey, oil overheated, created a fireball.”

“Anyone hurt?”

“No. Just property damage. The house was fine.” His voice was matter of fact, professional. It was the same tone he used when he was explaining safety protocols at festival meetings.

I studied his face, looking for clues about what was really bothering him. There was something he wasn’t telling me. I could see it in the careful way he was choosing his words, the tension in his shoulders that had nothing to do with physical exhaustion.

“That’s good,” I said carefully. “That no one was hurt, I mean.”

“Yeah.” He took another sip of beer, then set the bottle down and ran a hand through his hair. “I need a shower.”

I could hear the exhaustion in every syllable. “I know. Let me help.”

He looked at me with surprise. I realized he wasn’t used to being taken care of. The thought made my chest ache.

In his bathroom, I turned on the water and adjusted the temperature while he finished undressing. When I started to pull off my own clothes, he watched with something deeper than desire. It was wonder, like he couldn’t quite believe I wanted to be here with him.

Under the spray of hot water, I took my time washing the smoke and ash from his hair, my fingers working through the sandy strands. I used my fingertips to massage his scalp. He closed his eyes and leaned into my touch. I could feel some of the tension leaving his shoulders.

“Better?” I asked, reaching for the soap.

“Much.” His voice was soft, almost reverent.

I washed his body with the same careful attention, my hands moving over the strong planes of his chest, the muscles of his arms, the breadth of his shoulders. It wasn’t about arousal, though that was always simmering between us. It was about connection, about showing him that he mattered, that his safety mattered to me.

When I was satisfied that I’d washed away every trace of the call, he took the soap from my hands and returned the favor. His touch was equally gentle. Equally reverent. My big strong fireman was a big marshmallow.

“Thank you,” he said against my temple, his arms wrapping around me under the warm spray.