night, striding across the snow-sloshed sidewalk toward the street. One cab slowed down, so she rushed across the asphalt to catch it.
Only to have a man reach for the door handle at the same time.
“Oh, sorry,” she said to him on reflex, pulling back.
“Sorry,” he echoed and did the same.
Taking his apology as affirmation that the cab was hers, she reached for the handle again—at the same time he did.
She eyed him. Snow coated his thick black hair and dotted his eyelashes. He was striking with a strong jaw and piercing, dark eyes. Still, she didn’t have time for this. “I was here first.”
“Well, I’m pretty sure we were here at the same time,” he answered smoothly. His voice was warm and rumbling. After a moment, he said, “Uh, are you going north?”
She nodded. “Yeah, north side.”
He smiled, and the gesture made her stomach flip for some odd reason. “Me, too. Wanna share?”
She glanced down for a moment, pondering it, then shrugged. “Okay.” Why not? She could be magnanimous. So long as she made her meeting on time.
They got in and rode down the street, him tucking a guitar case between his legs, resting the bottom on the floor. She flipped through her email notifications on her phone and made brief, idle chitchat with the stranger. But the Christmas music playing was irritating and distracting. She asked the driver to change the station.
“You don’t like Christmas music?” the guy beside her said.
She snorted. “Oh, it goes on and on and on.” And every Christmas season, all the stations were inundated with it. Nonstop. How was no one else but her burned out on hearing it so much? Ugh.
He started to sing a Christmas song, and she side-eyed him. He stopped.
“Partridges in trees,” she said, leaning toward him and waving a hand. “What do those words even mean?”
“I’m pretty sure they’re called ‘lyrics,’” he said evenly. Funny guy.
“But… they’re non-migratory birds. If they did make a nest, it wouldn’t even be in a pear tree.” The stranger didn’t say anything, just stared at her. Whatever. She knew she had a rational point.
When she realized they were close to Madison, she directed the taxi driver to turn onto it.
Funny Guy quickly protested that they should stay on this road because of traffic.
“Yeah, but my stop is first,” she retorted.
He tightened his arms around his chest, eyeing her. “Well, you’re going to make me late.”
“You’re going to make me late for a very important meeting.” She tried to maintain her patience even though frustration was welling in her at his presumption. First, he’d tried to take her cab, and now he was going to possibly ruin her drinks with her prospective client.
No way. So much was riding on this.
“Life-or-death important?” he asked her, brows raised, clearly not believing it was.
“Actually, yes.” Her words were firm. She knew this was more important than whatever he was doing. Some kind of open-mic night thing? It could wait.
“Okay,” he murmured, giving in.
Thank heavens. She returned her attention back to the driver and instructed him to turn right.
Into a thick batch of traffic.
“Aaaand jingle all the way,” her ride partner said flatly.
She sighed. No way could she wait in this traffic. She’d never make it in time. “Well, I’m going to walk.” She grabbed a handful of cash and handed it to the driver. “Here. Thank you. Um, good luck with your… guitar thing,” she said to the passenger.
“Happy holidays,” he told her with a slight wave of one hand.
When the woman exited the cab, Max Wingford told the driver, “Um, you can turn the music back on.”
What an odd encounter. Yes, it had left him a touch bristly over being left in terrible traffic… but he was also curious about who the mysterious woman was. Who argued logistics about Christmas songs? Strange, cab-commanding women, he supposed. Ah, well. Time to focus and get his head in the game. His audition needed all of his attention. And he knew Lauren would be grilling him about it tomorrow when she returned from her sleepover at her grandparents’. He didn’t want to let her down.
Max finally arrived at the auditorium and stared at the marquee declaring auditions tonight for the Christmas Eve concert being held there. No one seemed to be entering or exiting the building, but he was pretty sure that, even though he was late, he could probably slip in. His guitar case, as heavy as a rock, rested against his back, his hands shaking as he clenched the strap.
Passersby wandered down the sidewalk in the thickening snow, and he stood there for a moment, willing himself to go in. He could do this. Yeah, it had been a long time, and yeah, he was solo now. And okay, he was pretty out of practice, and his original songs weren’t all that great anymore without his sister’s help…
He couldn’t do this. Couldn’t make himself step inside. His feet felt glued down, his heart frozen behind his ribcage.
His throat was tight as he turned and walked down the sidewalk.
Away from the audition.
It was probably better this way.
Chapter Two
Max chopped the vegetables for the warm stew he was whipping up. The people at his diner loved it, and he only offered it during the Christmas season, which made it a special holiday treat. He took comfort in the rote action, something he’d grown familiar with since opening the diner. This was where he belonged, not on a stage. Not anymore.
As he diced and julienned, he ignored the sensation in his gut, the one that called him a coward for not doing the audition last night. He’d really wanted to… at least, on some level. But push had come to shove, and he hadn’t been able to. He was disappointed in himself. His nerves were a clear sign that it wasn’t meant to be. Right?
His niece Lauren came back in the kitchen, distracting him from his thoughts. Her long hair swayed as she walked. “Uncle Max!” she said happily.
Afternoon already? Time had gotten away from him. He shot her a smile. “Hey, kiddo! Did you have a fun sleepover with your grandparents?”
“Yup!” She settled onto a stool and watched him continue dicing up the veggies. Lauren loved observing him cook and even helping in whatever way he’d let her. She had a good sense of taste for a fifth grader. And he welcomed having her in the kitchen,
