Page 42 of The Best Christmas Choir Ever

A few people tittered in response.

Then Julian called, “How about a song?”

Charlie twisted around, looking at him in confusion. He just winked at her.

“Be my guest,” Heather said, waving Julian up. “A joke, a song. I don’t think I’m in a position to deny, either.”

Julian hurried onto the stage. “Ladies and gentleman,” he called out.

Charlie shook her head. Please no. They weren’t ready for this kind of thing.

“I would like to invite you to enjoy the musical stylings of Glendale’s very own choir.”

Charlie glanced over her shoulder, taking stock of the room. The residents looked surprised but eager as Julian waved them up.

Gram elbowed Charlie out of her seat. “Go on. We need the choir director up there.”

“I thought your hip was sore?”

“It’s feeling much better.”

Charlie narrowed her eyes but allowed herself to be pushed along by Gram and Maggie. Harriet cajoled some of the less eager members toward the stage before waving to the crowd, hamming it up. Julian popped down to help wheel Frank up the handicap ramp.

“What are you doing?” Charlie said when she was close enough to Julian. “We didn’t rehearse for this!”

“I think this is called an impromptu performance.”

“Julian.”

“Can’t disappoint your fans.” He shot her a cheeky, dimpled grin.

“You are so annoying.”

“That’s not what you were thinking a few minutes ago.”

“Screw you,” she grumbled.

“I sort of wish you had.”

Charlie turned away before her entire body could light up like a Christmas tree. It was only one orgasm. Get a hold of yourself. But it was more than that. She knew it as she watched him rile up the crowd. She’d let herself feel something for him again, and some part of her knew it was too late to stuff it back in the box. She could try, but the truth was, she was falling, and she didn’t know where she would land.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Julian called. “Give it up for the Glendale Shakers!”

There was an abrupt round of applause.

Charlie turned to the choir. “Okay then,” she said, a finger pressed to either cheek, reminding them all to smile. “Let’s give them a show. And one…and two…and…”

Nine

Julian

“Be careful with those!” Julian called to his crew of resident volunteers. “This is fragile merchandise we’re dealing with.”

“Please tell me that’s what I think it is?” Warren said, rubbing his hands together as he came over to inspect the boxes in the dining room.

Julian grinned. Every year he coordinated with a local bakery to make them a couple dozen gingerbread house kits for a friendly little decorating contest. The residents and the staff had gotten surprisingly competitive with it over the years, forcing Julian to establish an entire judging panel and rules of conduct—mostly thanks to Harriet-led gingerbread sabotage. “Is your decorating team picked?”

“Oh, the nurses had that on lock mid-September,” Warren said. “We’re not messing around this year.”