She turned around to say something to Oke, once she’d finished the conversation as quickly as she could, but he was patting Dahlia on the back as she spoke to him. Oh my God. Oh my goodness, were they . . . ? She hadn’t asked. She hadn’t asked if they were together, even after she’d seen them at the party. That was her fault. She’d let herself get swept away in the moment and the music. He’d probably taken Dahlia down there before already—that’s how he knew the music was even happening.

As he turned around again to look at her, she kept the phone to her ear even though there was no one on the line anymore.

“Great,” she said loudly, lashing out as she watched Oke’s and Dahlia’s heads close together. “See you, Blair.”

And she pretended to hang up, even as Oke was looking at her, his face hurt and confused, and stalked off, back the way she came.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

The shouting crowds of the fair felt irritating now as Carmen pushed her way through them, her head a mess.

Blair was ridiculous. Of course he was. But he was . . . She felt underneath all the nonsense, he was funny and cynical and she couldn’t help finding him attractive. Oke was attractive—of course he was—but Blair was a man of the world, had been everywhere, had met everyone, was famous—and was still texting her. She couldn’t deny it was flattering and appealing, and she remembered his cold hand on her waist . . .

Oke was nice. Definitely nice. But he was seeing someone else anyway; he was just making a habit of acquiring shopgirls as he went on.

Oh, but she had liked him. She had liked him a lot. Of course someone else would have him. Story of her life.

But Blair . . . he had what everyone else had around here. Money and a career and he knew what he was doing and where his life was heading. Okay, he was a doof, but . . . God, it would be nice to have a bit of that. When everyone else in the world (she was still getting very jolly messages from Idra) seemed to have their shit together but poor old Carmen. It was all right to want that, wasn’t it?

Carmen sighed. Christmas was getting to her, she could tell. There was something about the magical pull of this town, the swirl of snowflakes that was sending her—argh—completely mad. She had nearly kissed a near-total stranger.

Mind you.

Her phone kept buzzing.

She allowed herself, just for a moment, to imagine what it would be like: the sun streaming through the hotel bedroom window, the crisp white sheets, the fruit plate. She wasn’t exactly sure what a fruit plate was, but it sounded like something she should probably order.