Chapter 27
JOY
“You guys were amazing!” I said.
Katrina was taking a selfie with her blue ribbon. “Thanks. Nailed it in the end. Never count out a couple of firefighters.”
“Seriously, that transformation from disaster to masterpiece was incredible to watch.”
Cooper looked almost embarrassed by my enthusiasm, but there was a pleased smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “It was a team effort. Good problem-solving all around.”
“Oh, stop being so modest.” Katrina laughed, bumping her brother’s shoulder. “You totally took charge once you had the dalmatian idea. I haven’t seen you get that excited about something in, well, in a long time.”
Cooper’s cheeks reddened slightly. Whether from the cold or his sister’s teasing, I couldn’t tell.
But there had been something wonderful about watching him let his guard down and seeing him get genuinely invested in the silly snow sculpture.
It was like glimpsing the person he might be when he wasn’t constantly worried about everyone else’s safety and well-being.
“You should take this back to the firehouse,” I suggested, gesturing to the ribbon. “Show it off to the guys. I bet they’ll get a kick out of knowing their safety officer won a snowman contest.”
“Snow dog contest,” Cooper corrected automatically.
I bit back a smile at how seriously he took the distinction.
“Right, snow dog contest. Even better.”
“That’s actually a great idea,” Katrina agreed. “Chief would love to see this displayed in the station. He’s always saying we need more community spirit in there.”
“We should definitely take this back to show everyone,” Matt said. “Maybe get a photo for the bulletin board.”
The idea of Cooper posing with a snow dog for a firehouse photo was so endearing that I had to press my lips together to keep from grinning too obviously. I was pretty sure it was his version of hell. But he wasn’t shooting down.
“Oh my God, you guys, I can smell the pork chop stand from here,” Katrina said suddenly, her head turning toward the food vendors like a bloodhound catching a scent. “I haven’t eaten since breakfast, and if I don’t get a pork chop on a stick soon, I might actually die.”
“Dramatic much?” Cooper asked dryly, but his expression was fond. “It’s literally just a pork chop with a skewer through it.”
“It’s a medical emergency is what it is,” she insisted, already backing away from our group. “Pork chops are eighty percent more delicious when served on a skewer. It’s a real thing. Look it up.”
“I don’t think that’s accurate,” Cooper started, but she was already hurrying away, calling over her shoulder that she’d catch up with us later.
Matt chuckled, shaking his head. “She’s not wrong about those pork chops, though.
Bob makes them with some kind of special seasoning.
They’re legendary. I mean, they’re no turkey legs, but they’re damn good.
” He glanced at his watch. “Actually, I should get to the station. I’m pulling a double today. ”
“I’ll see you later,” Cooper said.
“Thanks for a great afternoon, guys,” Matt said, already backing away. “Joy, this was a brilliant idea. Cooper, try to have a little more fun, would you?”
And then it was just Cooper and me, standing in the middle of the bustling town square with the sounds of laughter and conversation swirling around us.
And now it was weird.
“So,” I said, suddenly aware that we were alone together for the first time since a few nights ago. “What do you say we do a loop around the event? Make sure everything’s running smoothly?”
Cooper’s expression shifted subtly, settling back into his professional mode. It gave him something to focus on, easing the tension between us. “Good idea. I should check in with the vendors anyway. See if anyone needs anything.”
“Sounds like you just want a pork chop,” I teased.
He shook his head with a slight smile. “I’m all for fair food, but I’ll never understand Kat’s obsession with them. It’s just a damn pork chop.”
We started walking, falling into an easy rhythm as we moved along the booths. The festival was in full swing now. A few families were adding some finishing touches to their snowmen. Couples young and old were browsing the craft vendors. Kids were running around with hot chocolate and rosy cheeks.
“So what’s your food of choice at the festival?” I asked.
“Easy,” he said. “Funnel cake. When it’s still warm with some powdered sugar on it? It’s heaven.”
“Damn, I need to try one of these funnel cakes.”
He grinned. “Maxine will be at the night market. Remind me to buy you one.”
I liked the sound of that. “Deal.”
An elderly woman selling hand-knitted scarves flagged us down from her booth.
“Excuse me, dear,” she said to me. “Aren’t you the one organizing all this? Joy Murphy?”
“That’s me,” I confirmed, stepping closer to her booth. “How’s everything going? Do you need anything?”
“Well, my table is wobbling something fierce,” she admitted, demonstrating by giving it a gentle shake that sent her carefully arranged scarves sliding dangerously toward the edge. “I’m worried it might collapse.”
Cooper was already moving, circling around to examine the table’s legs. “Looks like one of the feet is sinking into the snow,” he said, crouching down to get a better look. “Do you have anything we could use to level it out?”
Between the three of us, we managed to find some wooden shims and stabilize the table. The elderly woman thanked us profusely and insisted we each take one of her scarves as payment.
“Hand-knitted,” she said with pride.
I wrapped mine around my neck immediately, grateful for the extra warmth. I noticed Cooper casually leave a twenty-dollar bill on the table before we walked away.
I smiled but said nothing. He wasn’t the kind of man that wanted accolades or attention. He was too genuine for that. The man just liked helping people without a bunch of fuss about it.
Two booths down, we encountered our next minor crisis, a hot chocolate vendor whose propane heating element had decided to quit working.
“I don’t suppose either of you knows anything about heaters?” the vendor asked hopefully.
Cooper stepped forward without hesitation. “Let me take a look.”
I watched as he examined the equipment. There was something incredibly attractive about his competence, especially since issues with propane heaters were so far out of my wheelhouse. Might as well ask me to fix his rocket ship engine.
“Your connection is loose,” he said after a moment, making a quick adjustment. “Try it now.”
The heater flared to life with a steady flame. The vendor’s relieved smile was worth the little detour.
“Be sure not to spill any cocoa on the heating element,” I told him. “I learned that the hard way.”
Cooper snorted a little laugh. “So did all the kids at the elementary school.”
We strolled away from the happy hot chocolate vendor, each with a cup in hand. The man had insisted. This time, I had been the one to slide a few bills into his tip jar.
“You’re like a festival superhero,” I said as we walked. “Fixing tables and repairing heaters. I bet you have an S on your shirt.”
Cooper laughed. “I’m hardly a superhero. Just someone who pays attention to details.”
“Exactly. A superhero power.”
We completed our circuit of the vendors, stopping to help with a few more minor issues. By the time we made it back to the main square, the sun was beginning to set.
“Want to sit for a minute?” Cooper asked, nodding toward a small seating area where someone had set up picnic tables around a portable heater. “I could go for some of that spiced cider.”
“That sounds perfect,” I said, realizing that I was actually tired from all the walking and problem-solving. “My treat, though. You’ve been working harder than I have.”
Cooper looked like he might argue but then seemed to think better of it. “Alright. But I’m getting the next round.”
The assumption that there would be a next round made butterflies swirl in my chest. I tried not to read too much into it as I walked over to the cider stand, but the casual way he’d said it suggested he was thinking beyond just this afternoon.
Would there be more drinks? More meals? More sex?
Yes, please, to all three.
I returned with two steaming cups of spiced cider. The scent of cinnamon and cloves warmed my face as I carried them through the cold air. Cooper had claimed a table with a good view of the square. He stood as I approached, taking one of the cups from my hands.
“Thank you,” he said. “This is exactly what I needed.”
“Too bad we didn’t have a little rum to add,” I joked.
I could feel the warmth of one of the heaters on my back. The festival continued around us, and our vantage point was a great spot to people watch and take it all in. I took a deep breath and my chest filled with pride.
“This is nice,” I said before taking a sip of the perfectly spiced cider.
“It is,” Cooper agreed, and when I looked up, I found him watching me instead of the festival.
We sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, sipping our cider and watching the festival wind down around us. Children were getting tired and cranky, parents were starting to pack up, and the vendors were beginning to cover their merchandise for the day.
It felt remarkably like a date, I realized.
The two of us sharing a quiet drink, talking easily, enjoying each other’s company without any particular agenda.
If someone had told me a month ago that I’d be sitting at a Christmas festival with Cooper Frost, feeling like we were in the middle of the most natural thing in the world, I would have laughed.
Now, it felt like exactly where I was supposed to be.
“So, the next big thing is the Christmas market opening, right? Tuesday night?” Cooper’s question pulled me back from my thoughts.
I nodded, suddenly feeling a flutter of nerves at the reminder. “Tuesday night, and then it runs through the weekend. It’s probably the most complicated event we’re doing. All those vendor booths, the food trucks, the entertainment schedule. I keep having nightmares about everything falling apart.”
“It’s not going to fall apart,” Cooper said with quiet confidence. “You’ve organized everything down to the last detail. You’ve got contingency plans for your contingency plans. And you’ve got a whole town of people ready to help if anything does go wrong.”
“You sound pretty certain about that.”
“I am.” His blue eyes were serious, intent on mine. “Joy, you’ve done an incredible job with all of this. The town hasn’t had a festival this well organized in years, maybe ever. The mayor’s going to be thrilled, and you’re going to get all the credit you deserve.”
The sincerity in his voice made my chest tight with emotion. Cooper wasn’t someone who gave compliments lightly.
“Thank you,” I said softly. “That means a lot, especially coming from you.”
“Why especially from me?”
I considered how to answer that without revealing too much about how much his opinion had come to matter to me. “Because you don’t say things you don’t mean. And because you’ve seen all the behind-the-scenes chaos and stress, not just the finished product.”
“I suppose I have seen the chaos,” he admitted. “But I’ve also seen how you handle it. You don’t fall apart when things go wrong. You just figure out how to fix them.”
“Kind of like someone else I know,” I said pointedly.
He laughed at that, shaking his head. “Touché.”
The portable heater clicked off, apparently reaching the end of its timer cycle. I suddenly became aware of how cold it was getting as the sun disappeared behind the buildings. Around us, the festival was definitely clearing out.
“I should probably start helping with cleanup,” I said reluctantly, not really wanting this moment to end.
“Probably,” Cooper agreed, but he didn’t make any move to get up from the table.
We looked at each other across the small space between us.
I felt that familiar charge in the air, the same electric tension that had led us to wild sex in the city hall break room.
The urge to lean across the table and kiss him was almost overwhelming, but we were in the middle of a very public space, surrounded by half the town.
“Cooper,” I started, not sure what I was going to say but feeling like I needed to acknowledge what was happening between us.
“I know,” he said quietly, echoing the words he’d said in his bed a few nights ago.
We were definitely moving beyond casual whatever-this-was territory, and we both knew it.
We finally forced ourselves to get up from the table, joining the general migration toward cleanup duty. I felt like I was walking on air even as I was picking up garbage.
Whatever was happening between Cooper and me, it was real. It was mutual. And for the first time since I had come back to town, I felt like I had a reason to stay.