Page 97 of Falling for the Grinchy Bad Boy

36

COOPER

Iwas having what could only be described as a zippity-doo-dah kind of day at the firehouse. The morning equipment checks had gone smoothly, the coffee was actually decent for once, and I received a text from Joy about how excited she was for the Christmas market opening tomorrow night. Life felt good in a way it hadn’t for months—maybe years.

I wasn’t going to jinx whatever this thing with Joy was by trying to put a label on it, but whatever we weren’t calling it? I liked it. She was mine. I knew she wasn’t seeing anyone else. I sure as hell wasn’t.

People had noticed the change in my mood. I wasn’t about to tell them it was because of a woman. I didn’t have to. Matt’s big mouth knew, and he wasn’t trying to keep it a secret.

I headed out of the locker room after scrubbing the floor and walked right into hell.

I should have known the universe was setting me up for a fall. It was evident I had pissed off some very powerful gods. I was certain I was paying for sins that I must have committed in a previous life. I was a fucking fireman. I ran into burning buildings to save people. I rescued kittens. What the fuck did I do to earn this shitty karma? Maybe the universe had me confused with someone else. That had to be it.

Lynn Ziegler had just walked into the firehouse.

My ex-fiancée stood in the doorway like something out of a nightmare, dressed to kill in a black coat and boots that clicked against the concrete floor. Her blonde hair was perfectly styled, her makeup flawless, and she wore the kind of confident smile that had once made my heart race but now made my stomach clench with dread.

For a moment, I couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t do anything but stare at the woman who walked out of my life a year ago, taking my trust and my faith in love with her.

“Hello, Cooper,” she said, her voice carrying that familiar honeyed tone that had once sounded like music but now grated like nails on a chalkboard.

“Lynn.” Her name came out rough, like I was forcing it through a throat full of gravel. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to thank you,” she said, stepping further into the station. She moved like a fucking tiger. She was a predator.

What the hell had I ever seen in her before?

“For what?” I snapped.

“For saving my parents’ house last night. When I heard what happened, I came back to town immediately.”

Of course she had. Lynn had always been drawn to drama, to situations where she could position herself as the center of attention. A house fire involving her family would be irresistible to someone who fed on other people’s emergencies.

“Just doing my job,” I said. “No thanks necessary.”

This was the first time I’d seen her since the day she had called off our wedding. I could still remember her words when she told me she couldn’t spend her life in a small town with someone who cared more about other people’s problems than his own future.

I thought I would never see her again. More like I hoped I would never see her again.

Now she was here, in my workplace, looking at me with those eyes that had once made me believe in forever. I didn’t know whether to scream at her or run from the evil she-beast who’d ruined Christmas and everything else good in my life.

“I need to get back to work,” I said, moving toward the equipment bay in what I hoped looked like a casual retreat.

But Lynn followed me, her heels clicking against the concrete. It made me want to rip my ears off. Even the way she walked pissed me off.

“Cooper, wait. We need to talk.”

“No, we absolutely don’t.” I kept walking, focusing on a completely unnecessary inspection of our hose connections. “You said plenty. I don’t need to hear shit from you.”

“I made a mistake.”

The words hit me like a physical blow, stopping me in my tracks. It legit felt like she shoved me in the back. I turned to face her. “A mistake? Is that what you’re calling it?”

“Yes.” She moved closer. That same cloying perfume she loved and had worn throughout our relationship made me nauseated. I would never be able to smell roses again and not think about her. Not in a good way. She ruined roses for me, too.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve,” I said.

“I was confused and scared about the future,” she said. “I wasn’t thinking clearly.”