Chapter 19
JOY
Cooper held the door open for me at the diner. It was a gesture so automatic I wondered if he even realized he had done it. Someone had done some decorating. By some I meant a lot. Like Christmas exploded.
Red and gold garland draped every surface.
It was wrapped around the counter, looped along the windows, and strung between the ceiling fans in swooping arcs that caught the afternoon sun.
Tiny white lights twinkled like captured stars.
“Silver Bells” played softly from speakers hidden somewhere behind the holiday chaos.
Every booth had its own festive centerpiece: miniature Christmas trees, ceramic reindeer, and yes, Santa salt and pepper shakers.
I braced myself for Cooper’s reaction. I was very aware of his aversion to all things Christmas. I didn’t necessarily fault him for it, but this was a little much. Especially after spending the morning surrounded by Christmas.
But he said nothing.
When “Jingle Bell Rock” replaced “Silver Bells” and the volume seemed to increase, he didn’t even flinch.
Progress. The thought sent a little thrill through me as I settled across from him.
He shrugged out of his coat. Underneath, he wore a long-sleeved shirt that did absolutely sinful things to his broad shoulders.
It was another fire department shirt that was perfectly normal, but it was snug.
The kind of shirt most people would wear under a sweater.
It hugged his biceps and accentuated his defined chest muscles.
“Coffee?” Mabel appeared beside our table with a pot already tilted toward our cups.
“Please,” I said, wrapping my hands around the warm ceramic as she poured.
“You eating or just warming up?” Mabel asked, pulling out her order pad.
“Eating,” Cooper said, reaching for one of the laminated menus tucked behind the Santa shakers. “We’ve been working up an appetite all morning.”
I picked up my menu, hyperaware of how his knee brushed mine under the small table.
The brief contact sent heat shooting up my thigh.
I had to remind myself to breathe normally.
This was a problem. This inconvenient, overwhelming attraction that hit me every time we were in the same space was messing with my head.
Cooper was gorgeous, yes, with the kind of rugged handsomeness that could make a smart woman do stupid things. But it was more than that. I was wildly attracted to a man who might not be ready for what I was starting to feel.
Hell, I might not even be staying in town. I came home because I had nowhere else to go. I didn’t look for an apartment because in the back of my mind I saw my return as temporary. I wasn’t finished trying to make my marketing career work.
But what was I doing? I was actually looking forward to the job the mayor offered. I didn’t think I would, but I was actually having fun with the festival planning. It wasn’t marketing exactly, but if I got the job, I could use my marketing skills to grow the many events the town put on.
And then I would be in town. With Cooper.
If I got together with Cooper—and God, did I want to get together with Cooper—I wouldn’t want it to be some cheap temporary fling.
I would want to give it a real try. I would want to see where a relationship with him could go when we stopped dancing around each other and admitted that something real was building between us.
It was that little spark from all those years ago.
But what if he wasn’t ready? What if I was just another complication in a life he was trying to simplify?
I stared at the menu without really seeing it, acutely aware of Cooper’s presence across from me.
He’d gone quiet again, that thoughtful silence that meant he was processing something.
His hair was still damp from the snow, his sandy hair darker now that it was wet.
My fingers itched to brush it back from his forehead.
“The pot roast is good,” he said suddenly. I realized I’d been staring at the description of the turkey club for five minutes.
“Thanks.” I smiled, hoping I looked more composed than I felt. “I was trying to decide between comfort food and something lighter.”
“Go with comfort,” he advised, those blue eyes meeting mine. “It’s that kind of day.”
I was certain something had thawed in him. Progress, I thought again, and let myself hope. Could we be friends again? Friends that maybe transitioned into something more.
“Joy!”
Cooper and I both looked up as Katrina approached our table. Her cheeks were pink from the cold, and snowflakes clung to her dark hair.
“Mind if I join you?” she asked, already sliding into the booth beside me before either of us could answer. “I’m freezing my begonias off.”
Any simmering romantic mood—and there had definitely been something heating up—evaporated as Katrina waved Mabel over for coffee and launched into an animated recap of her morning. I caught Cooper’s eye across the table and saw my own mix of amusement and disappointment reflected there.
I wasn’t crazy. He had been feeling the vibe.
What the hell?
What did that mean?
Was there a chance for us?
“So,” Katrina said once she’d gotten her coffee and ordered the daily special. “Are you two ready for the snowman building contest on Saturday?”
I couldn’t help but grin at Katrina’s enthusiasm. “I’m so excited about the snowman contest! I’ve been planning the registration process and prize categories all week.”
“And I’ve been planning how to keep people from getting hypothermia,” Cooper said dryly, taking a sip of his coffee. “Three hours outside in December weather building snowmen? Might as well set up a frostbite treatment station while we’re at it.”
Katrina rolled her eyes. “You’re such a pessimist. It’s going to be fun!”
“Fun until someone’s fingers turn black and fall off,” he muttered, but I caught the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“What about the living nativity scene?” I asked, pulling out my phone to check my notes. “I confirmed the animals yesterday—two sheep, a goat, and a donkey from the Miller farm.”
“Perfect,” Cooper said, his expression turning serious again. “Good thing I know how to treat a donkey bite. Those things can be vicious when they’re stressed.”
I laughed despite myself. “You’re impossible. They’re the gentlest animals on the farm. I met them personally.”
“Famous last words,” he said, but his eyes were twinkling now. “You’d be surprised what people will do around animals they think are ‘safe’ because they’re in a nativity scene. Donkeys bite, goats ram, and sheep are stronger than they look.”
“These are petting zoo animals,” I insisted. “It’ll be fine.”
“What’s next on your list of potentially dangerous holiday activities?”
“Well, I was thinking about lining Main Street with those tall standing heaters to keep people warm while they’re shopping at the market booths,” I said, scrolling through my phone. “Create these cozy warm zones where families can gather.”
Cooper nearly choked on his coffee. “Might as well line the street with explosives. You know how many accidents happen with portable heaters? Especially around crowds of people in winter coats?”
I burst out laughing at his horrified expression. “You are such a pain in the ass,” I said, shaking my head. “But honestly, I appreciate it. I’m all for keeping everyone safe and happy, even if it means dealing with your paranoia.”
“It’s not paranoia if the dangers are real,” he protested, but there was no real fight in his words.
Katrina looked between us with obvious amusement. “You know what? You two actually make a decent team. Joy’s wild creative energy is perfectly counterbalanced by Cooper’s obsessive safety concerns.”
Heat crept up my neck at her observation. The way she said it made us sound like, well, like a couple. Like two people who complemented each other in all the right ways.
I glanced at Cooper to see if he’d caught the implication and found him studying me with an expression I couldn’t quite read. Something warm and considering that made my stomach flutter.
“I prefer to think of my advice as ‘thorough safety planning’ rather than ‘obsessive,’” he said. “But ultimately, we all want the same thing. A fun and safe celebration for the town.”
Our food arrived, and Katrina kept the conversation flowing between bites, running through the weekend’s schedule with enthusiasm.
“Speaking of the snowman contest, you two should enter the snowman contest together,” Katrina casually said. “I bet you’d win most creative.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I started, but Cooper surprised me.
“Why not?” he said, his mouth quirking up in what was almost a smile. “Someone needs to make sure Joy doesn’t get frostbite.”
My heart did something acrobatic in my chest. “Are you volunteering to be my snowman building partner?”
“Someone has to keep you out of trouble,” he replied.
He acted like it was a chore, but I was certain I was picking up on some affection. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking. Whatever the case, I liked it.
“Really?” I asked. I ignored the fact my voice had gone a little higher.
Katrina clapped her hands together. “Do it! Remember that time when we were in… I think fifth grade. We built that massive snowman and Cooper had to lift you up on his shoulders to put the head on?”
A laugh bubbled up from somewhere deep in my chest as the memory hit me full force. “Oh my God, I completely forgot about that! You nearly dropped me when I started laughing about how the carrot nose looked like a—”
“Like a certain part of male anatomy,” Cooper finished with a shake of his head. “You were so proud of yourself for making that observation.”
“I was eleven!” I protested, covering my face with my hands. “And you turned bright red and almost launched me into the snowbank.”
“You wouldn’t stop laughing,” he said, shaking his head. “Katrina was mortified that her best friend was making dirty jokes about our snowman’s dick nose.”
“I was not mortified,” Katrina said, though she was grinning. “I was impressed. Joy was always the one who said what the rest of us were thinking but were too chicken to say out loud.”
“Like the time she told Mrs. Jones that her wig was crooked during the Christmas pageant,” Cooper added, and suddenly we were all cracking up.
“It was really crooked!” I said between giggles. “Someone had to tell her.”
“You were so matter of fact about it,” Katrina said.
I buried my face in my hands again, groaning at the memory. “I was being helpful!”
“You were,” Cooper said, and there was something warm in his voice that made me look up. “You always were. Even when it was mortifying for everyone else involved.”
The way he said it—fond, almost proud—sent a flutter through my chest. I’d forgotten how Cooper used to defend my more outrageous childhood moments. Even when I embarrassed him or got us all in trouble, he had always backed me up.
“Remember the Christmas cookie incident of seventh grade?” I asked, feeling emboldened by the warmth in his eyes.
Katrina groaned. “Oh no, not the cookie incident.”
“What cookie incident?” Cooper asked, looking between us with suspicion.
“Joy decided she was going to win the bake sale by making the most elaborate Christmas cookies anyone had ever seen,” Katrina explained. “She spent three days working on these incredibly detailed sugar cookies that looked like actual works of art.”
“They were beautiful,” I said defensively. “I painted each one by hand with food coloring. Tiny little masterpieces.”
“And then?” Cooper prompted.
“And then I realized the night before the bake sale that I used salt instead of sugar in the dough,” I admitted. “Every single cookie was completely inedible. They looked gorgeous but tasted like seawater.”
Cooper burst out laughing. “Even back then, you could have used a safety coordinator.”
I laughed too. “I won’t lie. It’s been nice having your help.”
It felt good to laugh with my friends again. I missed them. When I moved away, I had left them behind. I truly missed them. Was this what I missed about Cooper? Maybe it was just the friendship, and I was trying to push adult feelings into that childhood friendship.
No.
Nope.
There were definitely some feelings there. Many feelings and naughty thoughts that would definitely put me on Santa’s shitlist.