Page 43 of The Best Christmas Choir Ever

Julian smirked, gingerly laying a kit and decorating supplies in the center of one of the tables. He knew Warren was serious. For a few hours every year, friendships were tested over gumdrops and royal icing, rivalries were set aside in favor of a steady hand, and the dining room reached The Great British Bake Off levels of drama. “Been perfecting your piping techniques?”

“You know it,” Warren said. “Nobody in this place can touch my string work.”

“That’s a bold statement,” Harriet said, joining them in the room. She had Maggie and Doris in tow.

Julian glanced to the doorway, expecting, wishing, wanting Charlie to be right behind them. Disappointment flooded him when the doorway remained empty, but there was a quiet thrill there, too—the thrill of anticipation—and it made him a little hot around the collar. His thoughts whisked back to the community center, to asking Charlie if there was something here and her throwing herself at him. Kissing him. Grinding down on his lap in that office. Julian swallowed hard, wrenching away from those thoughts before all his blood could rush south, and placed another gingerbread kit.

“The nurses took second place last year,” Warren said to Harriet. “And we’ve been putting the work in. This year we’re definitely taking first.”

Maggie tutted, a secret little smile curling up the side of her face. “Don’t count your trophies yet. I think you’ll be surprised to see what the art class has up their sleeve.”

“Are you still good to be on our judging panel this year?” Julian asked her.

“Of course.” Maggie laid a hand on her chest. “I’d like to think I can be impartial.”

“Mm-hmm,” Warren said, eyeing her up suspiciously. “Your close friendships have been noted.”

Maggie waved off his comment as Doris said, “Is it really that serious?”

“Absolutely. Glendale gets very competitive over gingerbread houses,” Julian explained. “There’s sabotage and intrigue. People are disqualified and banned from future competitions. Bonbons are thrown. Icing is tampered with. Gingerbread walls are knocked down.” He lifted his hand to whisper. “The real trick is to make sure your icing is tacky before you start positioning the walls.”

“And the administration staff always cheat!” Harriet added.

“They do!” Warren agreed. “Remember when they sneaked in that hot glue gun?” The two of them exploded into conversation like a pair of birds squabbling over birdseed.

“What do you win?” Doris muttered from the corner of her mouth.

“Mostly bragging rights,” Julian said. “And a tiny trophy.”

“Speaking of the administration staff,” Maggie said, interrupting Harriet and Warren. “I should inquire if they actually plan on entering this year. I didn’t see their team on the sign-up sheet.”

“They’ll be here,” Harriet muttered, eyes narrowing. “To defend their title.”

“I feel like we need a truce,” Warren said, nudging Harriet. “We join forces. Take down the admin team?”

“Bring that new nurse with you, and you’ve got a deal. I hear she’s good at blood work. Has steady hands. She’ll crush the roof lattice.”

“Good idea,” Warren said, the two of them shaking on the deal. He hurried out the door, and Harriet, Maggie and Doris rushed after him, their heads bent close together.

Julian should probably have been more worried about the amount of plotting that was already taking place, but he was distracted by a familiar head of blond hair. “Hey, Charlie!” he called, practically hurling himself across the dining room to get her attention. “Charlie!”

She whirled around in the hall, unwinding a scarf from her neck, a book of sheet music tucked under her arm. “Julian, hey!”

She sounded a little breathless, her cheeks a little flushed, and all Julian could think about were the sounds she’d made yesterday, her voice trembling next to his ear as he’d unraveled her. He’d spent all evening reliving that moment. He licked his lips as he took her in, her snow-damp hair curling at the ends. She was beautiful, and he knew he was in trouble.

“What’s all this?” she asked, drawing closer.

Julian tapped a sign on the dining room door. “Glendale’s annual gingerbread house decorating contest.”

She laughed. “You really like the competitions here, huh?”

“What can I say? The residents enjoy their traditions and their petty rivalries.” They grinned at each other, and Julian felt a wave of desire crash through him. “So, what do you think? Will you be joining said contest this year?”

“Not a huge fan of gingerbread,” Charlie admitted.

Julian made a face. “Good thing you don’t have to eat it. You just have to create a masterpiece.”

“Oh, a masterpiece?” Charlie said. “Is that all?”