Page 36 of The Best Christmas Choir Ever

What the hell was a gingerbread team? Charlie didn’t want to know.

“If my hip acts up, I’m blaming you,” Harriet told Julian.

“I’ll get Warren on standby,” Julian joked. “All right, Walt, let’s hit the road.” He clapped the bus driver on the shoulder.

The bus rumbled to life and pulled away from the curb slowly. Julian stood at the front, hanging onto a seat with one hand, the other holding a clipboard. “Thank you to all those who have braved the cold to join us today. We have two exciting events on the agenda. A showing of Miracle on 34th Street and the annual community Christmas Market.”

“Which version?” Jim called.

“Of what?”

“The movie. Better be the 1947 version,” he said.

Julian smirked. “Probably the superior 1994 version.”

“Oh, absolutely not!” Jim complained. That was all it took. Suddenly the bus erupted into a spirited debate about black-and-white versus color and the pros and cons of the Santas. Charlie was partial to the original herself, probably because that was the one she’d watched with Tom and Gram growing up.

“I’ll tell you where you can stuff your Santa,” Harriet said.

“Keep it clean,” Julian warned. “Or I will turn this bus around.”

“No, you won’t!” came a chorus of voices.

Charlie used the distraction to spy down the aisle, taking in Julian as he laughed and gave Jim some good-natured ribbing. She hadn’t been eager to trap herself in an enclosed space with him so soon. Not after that kiss.

What had gotten into them?

Frankly, she’d been thinking too much about the entire thing since it happened: the softness of his lips, the warmth of him, the way her heart had raced.

All she could remember was how good he used to make her feel and how simple life once was. Summer had been so easy, and falling for Julian during those long days had been even easier. It hadn’t grown complicated until they both went back to school. They’d given it a shot—the long-distance thing—but it had been too hard to hold onto with the demands of her future hurtling toward her. It was no one’s fault, really, simply a case of not the right place at the right time.

Charlie had had a choice to make back then. A career performing was all about making the right impressions on the right people, and she’d had to prioritize Juilliard. Besides, it wasn’t like she and Julian had ever put a label on anything. But even though it hadn’t worked out between them back then, there was something intoxicating about already knowing how good he could make her feel. She wanted that.

Wanted him.

But Julian was from a time before Tom’s loss, a time that she’d already packed away. She couldn’t reopen herself to those desires. To constant reminders of what her life had been. It would be like picking at wounds she was barely managing to keep closed.

And that was dangerous.

The image of Julian wrapping his arms around her, drawing her deeper into the kiss, burned at the forefront of her mind even as she wished it away.

She couldn’t be that version of herself. That Charlie—the driven optimist with her career plotted out perfectly—had been buried with her brother.

A blush prickled in her cheeks. The heat spread down her neck. She could feel it like a flame licking at her skin. Eager, demanding.

Consuming.

Pull yourself together. Julian didn’t want her like that anyway; he hadn’t even remembered her.

But he kissed you like he remembered you, her mind whispered.

Stop.

She wasn’t playing this game. She was here for a reason. Get Gram settled, get the house sorted, get this choir to the Christmas Eve finish line. Get the hell out of town. There wasn’t room in her life for anything else. Or anyone. Kisses be damned.

“You okay?” Gram asked, turning to her.

“Fine,” Charlie squeaked.