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“Of course.” Eden’s reflection appears behind mine. “And maybe I’m secretly dating Ryan Gosling. Come on. What’s happening with the sexy tree farmer?”

“Nothing,” I insist, adjusting my neckline. “I mean, obviously I think he’s attractive.”

“Attractive?” Eden snorts. “Miles Stratton is a pure Christmas fantasy wrapped in flannel. The man could sell calendars by carrying firewood.”

“He’s also probably not interested in someone currently hiding from her own life.”

“Are you kidding?” Stevie removes the hairpins from her mouth and smooths my hair into place. “Whenever you walk into a room, Miles looks like he’s scored the winning goal.”

My heart performs a stupid little flutter. “He does not.”

“He absolutely does,” Eden says. “Trust me, I know that look. It’s the same one Nate gets when he thinks about—” She stops abruptly, her cheeks turning pink.

"When he thinks about what?" I ask, grateful for the chance to turn the spotlight away from my own romantic disasters.

"Nothing. We're talking about your tree farmer, not my... situation."

"Your situation with Nate?" Stevie's eyes light up with interest. "Oh, this is getting good."

Stevie gently slaps my hand away and clips a delicate gold necklace around my throat. Another of her loans, along with earrings she swears look better on me, which is a lie she tells generously.

"What's the deal with you two, anyway?" I ask, mostly to stop touching the dress so Stevie doesn't slap me again. "Nate's been dragging you to every event on the schedule."

"The deal is," Eden says, refilling her champagne, "I'm currently in a delicate survival operation. I'm eleven days from officially defeating the Chilmore Christmas Curse. And I refuse to die this close to the finish line."

"The what?"

"The Christmas Curse." Stevie's eyes appear over my shoulder. "It's famous around here. Every man Eden dates dumps her at Christmas. It's cruel, but the entire town gets excited by it, right Ede?"

"One proposed to me," Eden says, rolling her eyes. "Only it took me a humiliating amount of time to realize he was proposing a break up. Which is why I swore off men for a year. No dating, no sex, nothing. If I make it to midnight after Christmas, the curse dies and I win."

Stevie laughs and take a sip of her champagne. "And how's the no-sex part going, being fake-attached to Nate Hargrove at every single event? He's pretty yummy, even if he is just your best friend."

Eden takes a very long drink of champagne and refuses to answer.

"That bad?" I ask.

"He rolled his sleeves up at the tree lighting and I nearly bit a stranger."

Stevie and I are still howling when the knock lands on the door.

"That'll be Miles," Stevie says, checking her phone.

I open the door and swallow my nerves, but as I do, Miles Stratton forgets how to speak completely.

He's standing there in his dark suit, one hand still raised from knocking, and his mouth opens on what was clearly going to be a greeting.

Nothing comes out.

His gaze drops to the split at my thigh, travels up the shimmer of green fabric, pauses at the neckline before he finally reaches my face.

"You were saying?" I prompt, placing a hand on my hip while trying not to look so pleased at this reaction.

"I had words," he says. "I had a whole opening sentence prepared to say just how gorgeous you look—"

His eyes do another take of my body and I watch his Adam's apple move beneath a swallow.

"Take your time."