Chapter 11
JOY
Istared up at our magnificent, star-less tree, feeling like I might actually cry.
All that work, all those hours of planning, all the volunteers who’d given up their afternoon—and we were going to fail because I’d been too ambitious with the tree selection.
The mayor was going to be so disappointed.
Aunt Victoria would probably never recommend me for anything ever again.
I could already see the newspaper headline: “New Event Coordinator’s Christmas Tree Catastrophe Crushes Community Spirit. ”
A Christmas tree wasn’t a Christmas tree without a star.
I had to figure out how to get it up there.
I walked around the base and reconsidered my idea of putting a ladder on the lift.
Maybe if I put a couple of pallets on the lift and the ladder on top of that, I could reach.
I couldn’t ask one of the taller guys to do it.
If anybody was going to break their neck, it was going to be me. I had gotten us into the situation.
Maybe I could climb up the tree. I used to climb trees all the time. But I would only mess up all the careful decorating.
“A drone!” I blurted out the words and then looked around to make sure no one heard me. I was talking to myself.
As usual.
Maybe I was being dramatic, but this star meant everything. Not just to me, but to the whole town. I was going to be the one to ruin a beautiful tradition because I had picked a tree that belonged in a forest, not a town square.
I was mentally calculating whether we had time to find a smaller tree and start over when I heard a strange sound. It was similar to the big diesel engine of the truck that had delivered our magnificent tree.
Then I saw the flash of red lights reflecting off the shop windows, and my heart stopped. Fire truck. Oh God, was something on fire? Had someone been hurt during the tree setup? I spun around, scanning the remaining volunteers for injuries, my mind racing through worst-case scenarios.
But the truck wasn’t speeding. It was moving slowly and it was heading straight for our little corner of chaos. As it got closer, I could make out the driver through the windshield. My heart did this funny little flip-flop thing in my chest.
Cooper.
The fire truck pulled right up to the curb where I was standing.
Cooper shut off the engine and stared at me.
He sat there for a moment, like he was second-guessing himself, then climbed out of the cab with that easy confidence he always had.
Even when he was clearly uncomfortable, which he definitely was right now, judging by the way he kept running his hand through his hair.
“Cooper?” I managed to squeak out. “What are you—I mean, is everything okay? I swear I haven’t started any fires this time.”
He walked around to the front of the truck, not quite meeting my eyes. “No fire. Just thought maybe we could solve your star problem.”
I blinked at him, not understanding. “My star problem?”
He gestured to the massive ladder mounted on top of the truck. “Fire truck ladder extends to about forty feet. Should be more than enough to reach the top of your tree.”
I felt something melt inside my chest. He was saving the day. For me. For the star. For a Christmas tradition he probably thought was ridiculous because Cooper had made it clear he could be the granddaddy of the Grinch.
“You got a fire truck,” I said stupidly, because apparently my brain had short-circuited.
He shrugged like it was no big deal. “Figured this qualifies as one of my official duties. My chief did put me in charge of safety and I can’t think of a better way to finish the decorating job safely.”
“Cooper.” I couldn’t seem to form complete sentences. “This is… you’re…”
“It’s just a ladder, Joy. Don’t make it a big thing.”
But it was a big thing. It was huge. Not just because he solved our problem, but because he had done it for me. Despite his obvious discomfort with all the Christmas fanfare, despite the fact that he clearly wanted to be anywhere else, he’d gone out of his way to make sure our tree had its star.
He rescued me.
Tears pricked at my eyes and I blinked them back furiously.
The last thing Cooper needed was me getting all weepy on him.
“Thank you,” I said. My voice came out all wobbly.
“Really. Thank you so much. I thought we were going to have to disappoint everyone, and the mayor is expecting everything to be perfect tomorrow night. Aunt Victoria stuck her neck out for me with this job, and—”
“Hey.” His voice was gentle. When I looked up at him, his expression had softened. “It’s going to be fine. We’ll get your star up there.”
The way he said “we” made my stomach do little flips again. Like we were a team. Like he wasn’t just helping out of obligation or politeness, but because he actually cared about making this work.
Did he still think of us as friends? Friends who kissed?
A small crowd had gathered around the fire truck, murmuring with excitement and curiosity.
I could see Bob and Mike Torres nodding like they agreed.
The star thing probably should have been addressed before we raised the tree, but whatever.
It was done. Cooper was going to fix it.
I hated that he was saving my ass, but I supposed it was in his job description. He saved people all the time.
I wasn’t special.
“Alright, let’s get this positioned,” Cooper said, all business now. He climbed back into the truck and slowly maneuvered it into place next to the tree. The ladder was impressive—much more substantial than the scissor lift, with proper safety railings and everything.
As he worked the controls to extend the ladder, I realized something that made my stomach drop to somewhere around my ankles. Someone was going to have to climb up there. With a two-foot crystal star. In December wind.
Cooper shut off the truck and walked back over to me. I held out the star.
He stared at it, then at me, then back at the star. “What’s this?”
“It’s either me or you going up there,” I said, trying to keep my voice light. “Which do you think is safer?”
He rolled his eyes. “Me? I have to put the star on the tree? Isn’t that some big honor or something?”
“I want someone who isn’t going to fall to their death to climb up there,” I corrected. “And between the two of us, you’re the one who actually knows what they’re doing on a ladder.”
He looked up at the extended ladder, then back at the star. He was acting like there was something personally offensive about putting the star on.
“I swear it won’t make your heart grow three sizes too big.”
He frowned. “What the fuck does that mean?”
I almost laughed at his surly tone. “I know you’ve seen the Grinch.”
He scowled again. “You’re so weird.” He muttered something under his breath that sounded distinctly like cursing, but he took the star. “Fine.
Everyone watched him climb like he was taking a Sunday stroll. How could we not? Cooper Frost, Mr. Anti-Christmas himself, was climbing with a star tucked carefully under his arm. He climbed steadily, confidently, like he’d done this a thousand times before.
He probably had. He was in his element, and it was ridiculously attractive.
The higher he got, the more nervous I became. What if the wind picked up? What if the ladder wasn’t positioned quite right? What if he slipped? I found myself holding my breath, my hands clenched into fists at my sides. We probably should have had another firefighter on hand to help out.
“That boy knows what he’s doing,” Mike said. “Take a breath.”
He was right. Even from the ground, I could see Cooper’s careful movements as he reached the top of the tree. He took his time placing the star, making sure it was secure, testing it before letting go. The whole process took maybe five minutes, but it felt like an hour.
When he finally started back down, the star was perfectly positioned at the very top of our tree. It was beautiful. It was perfect. I couldn’t wait to see the lighting ceremony. That tree was gorgeous. I didn’t want to pat myself on the back, but it had turned out beautifully.
I started clapping before I could stop myself. The sound seemed to break some kind of spell. Suddenly everyone was applauding.
Cooper’s face went bright red as he climbed down. I could tell he was absolutely hating every second of the attention. But he had done it. He’d saved the day. I was so grateful I could have kissed him right there in front of everyone.
Which would probably have made him hate the attention even more.
When his feet touched the ground, he immediately stepped away from the ladder and looked anywhere but at the applauding crowd. I wanted to throw my arms around him, but I settled for beaming at him like he was my hero.
“Cooper, you’re amazing,” I said, probably too loudly. “Seriously, you saved my bacon.”
“It’s just a star,” he said, but I caught him glancing up at the tree with what looked suspiciously like satisfaction.
The thing really was spectacular. Thirty feet of perfectly decorated Christmas tree, covered in lights and garlands and ornaments, topped with a beautiful star. In the growing twilight, it looked magical, like the Christmas tree at the North Pole.
Cooper stood there for a long moment, just looking at it. His expression was unreadable, but something in his posture had relaxed. Like maybe, for just a minute, he was remembering why people loved Christmas.
“It looks good,” he said finally, and coming from Cooper, that was practically a rave review.
“It looks perfect,” I corrected. “Thanks to you. I couldn’t have done it without your help.”
He shrugged, but I caught the hint of a smile before he could hide it. “Got any more of those peppermint mochas?”
My heart did that flippy thing again. He was staying. Mr. Bah-Humbug himself was asking for more Christmas drinks. That had to be a good sign, right?
“Absolutely,” I said, probably grinning like an idiot. “Coming right up.”
As I headed toward the coffee cart, I couldn’t stop stealing glances back at Cooper. He retracted the fire truck’s ladder. Every now and then, I caught him looking up at the tree and the star he’d just placed there.
Maybe Christmas wasn’t completely hopeless for Cooper Frost after all.
And maybe, just maybe, I was starting to crack through that wall he’d built around himself.
I didn’t think there were any Christmas miracles in our future, but if we could add a little cheer to his frozen heart, that would be good enough.
Tomorrow night’s lighting ceremony was going to be perfect, and for the first time since taking this job, I was absolutely certain everything was going to work out just fine. I could do this. And as much as I hated to admit it, Cooper and I actually worked really well together.