Chapter Nine
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.”
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?”
“You could enter on behalf of the choir.”
The corners of her lips twitched. “The choir needs to practice on the off chance we make it into the competition. No one needs a gingerbread-shaped distraction.”
“I’d argue there’s time for both,” he said, studying her teasing smirk, wondering what she was thinking about. Was it kissing him? His hand between her legs? The way she’d writhed?
Work, his mind practically screamed at him. Focus on the work. Because whatever was going on between him and Charlie was far more complicated than sneaking away for some secret community center sex.
“But speaking of the choir, I do have something to show you.” He fumbled around in his pocket. “Damn, I left my phone upstairs. Do you have yours?”
“It’s dead,” she said. “I need to charge it.”
“Okay, come with me.” He started down the hall toward the elevator.
“Where are we going?”
“To my office.” She glanced at him, perhaps a little amused. “What?”
She shook her head. “Nothing.”
The elevator door opened, and Julian hit the third floor button as it closed again.
“You’re in a good mood,” she said without looking at him.
“It’s gingerbread day. I’m stoked.”
“Mm-hmm,” Charlie said, her eyelashes fluttering. “Stop staring at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Nothing is going to happen,” she said, like she was trying to assure them both. Her eyes were bright, twinkling under those damn elevator lights again.
“What nothing are we referring to?”
“You know,” Charlie insisted.
“Do I?”
Her lips twisted. “I’m not going to remind you if that’s what you’re waiting for.”
“Hey,” Julian said, holding his hands up. “I thought we were riding the elevator.”
“Yes,” Charlie agreed. “That’s all.”
“What else would we be riding?” he said, knowing he was treading too close to a line he should avoid.
But he couldn’t help himself. Couldn’t help the desire to touch her.
He lifted his hand, stroking a finger down her cheek, along her jaw.
Some sensible part of him knew it would be terrible to lose her twice, but with her looking at him like that, he remembered what it was to feel wanted and to want her in return. The memory was intoxicating.
She blinked up at him. “I told you not to stare at me like that.”
“Well, you never answered my question. How am I supposed to stop staring at you if I don’t know how I’m staring at you?”
“Like you’ve seen me naked,” she clarified.
“Well, I have. It’s been a long time, though.” Don’t do it, Don’t… “I could use a refresher.”
Her breath hitched, and he liked the sound. Liked how unnerved she was and that needy look in her eyes. “Shut up,” she finally said, fighting a grin. He dropped his hand. “We need to focus on the choir.”
“I’m good at multitasking.” A lie. He was barely managing.
Charlie took a step toward him, forcing him back against the wall of the cab.
Every muscle in his body tensed, his heart knocking against his ribs.
Then the elevator door rolled open, and he was saved from doing something foolish.
Julian surged out of the cab, sucking in a settling breath as he led Charlie down the hall to his office.
He knew getting tangled up with Charlie again was full of unknowns.
She was still grieving Tom, dealing with Doris, reluctantly volunteering.
That had unpredictable written all over it, and she’d ghosted him for what felt like less.
There was nothing stopping her from doing it again despite how right things had felt at the community center yesterday.
So how could he get involved with someone who had no idea what they wanted?
This was exactly the kind of situation he’d spent the last eight years avoiding—the one where he’d end up alone.
But… his mind screamed.
But what? He was smarter than this. Julian walked around his desk and shook his mouse to wake up his computer screen. “I wanted to show you what Heather sent to me this morning.” He twisted the monitor toward her.
“Heather from the community center?” Charlie clarified as he hit Play on a video.
He nodded, waiting for her reaction. “Apparently it’s going viral.”
Charlie leaned close to him, staring at the screen, and he could almost feel the heat of her skin. Focus, he told himself, and he did, watching her face to spot the exact moment she recognized the auditorium and the choir.
“Wait, is this—”