Chapter 9
JOY
The corner table was mine.
I staked it out the second I walked into Black Bear Coffee, flashing my best “important business” smile at the barista and plopping my tote bag right in the middle of the big, round wooden surface like it was a flag planted on a new continent.
I realized after the fact I wasn’t in New York. There weren’t going to be a hundred people vying for my table. It was going to take me a while to shift back into small-town living. I never really paid a lot of attention to the differences until I was back.
Going to New York had been a shock, but everything had been so exciting and new. It was a different world. I got used to things. I ate it up. I actually kind of loved riding the subway. Didn’t necessarily love the smell of urine, but you got used to it.
But now that I was back home, it was night and day. How could these two places even be on the same continent? Everything was different. The vibe. The people. The mood. Everything.
All around me, the shop hummed with holiday energy.
Pine garlands draped the shelves, twinkle lights looped around the chalkboard menu, and Bing Crosby crooned from the speakers.
The air smelled like roasted beans, peppermint syrup, and cinnamon scones.
Normally, I would have loved it. Today, it just made me nervous.
Because this wasn’t a cozy cocoa date. This was my first official planning meeting with the safety officer Mayor Sally had assigned to me.
And okay, yes, part of me was annoyed. A babysitter?
Really? But pride wasn’t worth kids slipping on ice or extension cords shorting out because I had missed some technical detail.
I knew how to pitch. How to advertise. I could write copy and adjust color schemes on a marketing tool.
I didn’t do field work. The extent of my holiday decorating in my apartment was putting the two-foot pre-lit tree in my window.
There wasn’t much room for anything else.
I loved Christmas but I didn’t love Christmas. I wasn’t the silly earrings and Santa hat wearing type. In New York, my friends and I went out to the club. We had dinners together. It wasn’t anything like the Norman Rockwell painting I stepped into.
If I was being honest, I could admit I needed all the help I could get.
So I had prepped like I was going into a marketing campaign pitch. I had to pitch my ideas to the safety officer. I had made neat folders, schedules for each event, timelines for setting up, even a color-coded chart that made me look like the kind of person who had her life together.
Which, spoiler alert, I was not.
I set the folders in a tidy fan on the table, took a sip of my latte, and rehearsed my opening line in my head. Something professional. Something like: Thank you for being here, I’m looking forward to collaborating.
Instead, the bell over the door jingled and in walked Cooper Frost.
I froze, my latte halfway to my lips.
No. Nope. I was not dealing with his shit today. I had too much on my mind. I could not allow myself to be distracted or flustered by him.
He hadn’t spotted me yet. He was just looking around the shop. Probably looking for something to bitch about. The poor barista was about to get a ten-minute lecture from Mr. Know-it-all.
And then that hard gaze landed on me.
I shot him my best glare. That was something I had perfected on all my trips on the subway.
I learned how to scare off assholes and those annoying wannabe Wall Street guys with a single look.
It was the New Yorker stare. At least, that was what I dubbed it when I first moved there and I was on the receiving end of that look more than once.
He ignored my warning look and walked toward me.
I flapped my hand at him in a shooing motion. “No, no, no. Absolutely not. I’m waiting for someone. Take your lecture somewhere else. I am not doing anything wrong. I’m sitting here drinking my latte. No one is in danger.”
He looked at the little spread I had on the table. It felt like he was peeking in my bedroom window.
I slapped my hand over one of the folders. “Go away, Cooper. I’m waiting on someone.”
One dark brow arched. “Yeah. Me.”
My stomach dropped. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Trust me, Murphy. I didn’t volunteer for this gig.”
“Oh no.” My voice came out strangled. “You’re the safety officer?”
“Afraid so.”
“What, are you the only fireman in this entire town?”
He smirked. “No. Just the unluckiest one.”
I slumped back in my chair, pinching the bridge of my nose. “This is… actually my worst nightmare. I knew they were up to something.”
“Who?”
“No one. Nothing. This is such bullshit.”
“I know.”
We stared at each other for a long, tense beat. The last time we’d been this close, there had been kissing. One reckless, unforgettable kiss the summer before I left for college. A kiss we both knew had been a mistake.
But damn it had been so good.
I cleared my throat and gestured at the empty chair. “Fine. Sit. Let’s just do this. Clearly we’ve both done something bad enough to have the universe come for us.”
He let out a strangled laugh.
I frowned at him as he sat down. The table didn’t feel nearly as big as it had a few minutes ago.
“Why are you laughing?” I asked.
“Because I’ve decided the universe hates me. I guess it must be true.”
I sighed. There was no way out of the situation. I’m stuck. I can’t disappoint Aunt Victoria. She is helping me out. I don’t have anywhere else to go. I’m going to be stuck with him for the next month.
Yeah me.
I pushed one of the folders toward him. “So, here’s the schedule. These are the events, the setup times, contacts for the vendors and volunteers—”
“Joy.” The tone was just like the one he used when he lectured me at the school after the cocoa fiasco. “We need to get one thing straight first. Whatever this is, it doesn’t have to be awkward.”
My stomach fluttered, traitorous thing. “Right. Agreed. We don’t have to dig up the past.”
“Good.” He leaned back, arms still crossed. “Best we don’t talk about that summer.”
“The summer that didn’t happen.” I gave him a too bright smile.
His mouth twitched like he was holding back a retort. “Exactly.”
Totally forgettable.
I couldn’t help poking at him just a little. It was childish. I had no right to try and insult his kissing skills. And unfortunately, he was damn good at kissing. Every kiss since his had fallen just a little short. Either too much tongue. Drool. Or just blah.
Cooper Frost knew how to kiss.
Which was why I was so glad we mutually agreed to never speak of that one kiss that had never, ever happened.
Cooper made a point of scanning the mess on the table. “Seriously?”
“What?” I frowned.
He gestured at the table. “What the hell is all this?”
“I need to be organized. I’m taking on a project that means a lot to a lot of people. And I’ve never done anything like this. I did a little research.”
“Great,” he muttered. “This month just gets better and better.”
I snapped open my binder. “Great. Now, first thing on the list: decorating the town square for the Christmas tree lighting ceremony. The businesses around the square are handling their own window displays, but we need to coordinate so nobody gets their wires crossed. Literally. That’s on you.
I don’t want to break any of your little rules. ”
“They’re not little rules,” he said. “I’m getting coffee.”
He stood up and walked up to the counter.
I could quit. I could apologize to my aunt, load up my shit, and drive to LA.
That had been my plan initially. The New York advertising thing didn’t work out for me, but LA had a lot of business.
But after applying to no less than twenty companies and getting nowhere, I decided Utah was the only option.
But there were more businesses. Maybe San Francisco. Or Seattle.
Cooper returned and sat down with his coffee. I blinked and brought myself back to the present.
He grunted. “As long as I don’t have to string any lights myself, it’ll be fine.”
“Noted.” I scribbled NO LIGHTS FOR COOPER on my notepad, just to annoy him.
His eyes narrowed. “And no Christmas music while we set up. Please.”
“Absolutely.” I kept a straight face, even though Mariah Carey was belting from the speakers overhead. “Silent setup. Got it. Exactly what safety rule does that violate?” I made sure my tone was dripping with sweetness.
“Mine. My fucking rule.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Is this just for me or are you really this big of an asshole?”
“Can we get this over with?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, do you think I’m actually enjoying spending time with you?”
He sipped his coffee and said nothing.
We went through the rest of the binder. Well, I went through it, talking with my hands, flipping tabs, pointing at the charts I had made. Cooper mostly sat there, throwing in dry comments that made me want to both roll my eyes and laugh.
And slap him.
Since when was I turned on by the asshole thing?
Just sitting there, he was gorgeous. My eyes were struggling to stay focused on my binder.
I kept looking at his forearms. The veins popped out.
He had taken off his jacket. A short bomber style with CHFD in the corner.
He wasn’t wearing the slacks from the other day.
Instead, he was wearing jeans and a henley with the sleeves pushed up.
If I would have known it was him, I might have packed my shit and drove west.
Why did men get hotter with age? It was so unfair.
I cleared my throat and forced myself to focus on the matter at hand.
“Santa’s Market setup is next Saturday morning,” I said, tapping the page.
“We’ll need barriers around the generators, just in case kids get curious,” he said.
“Barriers. Right.” Okay, so maybe I did need a safety guy. I wouldn’t have considered that.
“Generators and kids don’t mix. I’ll handle it.”
“Christmas Choir performance—”
“Earplugs?” he asked.
I ignored him. “I’m sure you have something unsafe about people singing.”
“We’ll need to make sure the temporary stage is stable. Safety rails, too.”
I nodded. Once again, he was right.
By the time we’d worked through the schedule, some of my nerves had settled. He might be grumpy, but he knew his stuff. And he wasn’t arguing with me, which frankly seemed like a miracle.
I leaned back in my chair. “Well. That wasn’t so bad.”
“Not terrible,” he admitted.
“See? We can work together without it being awkward.”
His dark eyes met mine, and for one electric second, I wasn’t sure that was true. My cheeks warmed. I quickly snapped the binder shut. Why was I wondering what it would be like to kiss him?
“Are we done here or will we be decking city hall?”
It really was too bad he was such an asshole.
I lingered at the table after he left, my heart thumping like I’d just run laps around the high school gym.
Cooper Frost was back in my orbit. For better or worse. And if we were both going to survive Yuletide Fest, I would have to keep things strictly professional. No kissing. No killing.
That meant ignoring the way my pulse skipped every time he looked at me.
Easy. Totally easy.