‘Someone asked me.’
She was surprised by his answer and intrigued as to who had sufficient allure to entice Sam out to a festive event. ‘I asked you out, but you turned me down.’
His eyebrows rose. ‘When did you ask me out?’
Blythe was glad it was dark because she could feel her cheeks heating up. ‘Notoutout. But I did ask you… to come out for Christmas.’ Sam was smirking at her growing awkwardness. ‘Anyway, who was so much better than me that you came whentheyasked?’
Sam gave an annoyingly long pause. ‘Owen.’
Blythe looked around both sides of Sam like a boxer dodging blows but there was no sign of Owen. ‘What, Vicky’s Owen?’
‘Is he Vicky’s Owen? I got the distinct impression things were frosty between those two.’ A timely gust of wind across the green made them both shiver and smile at their own synchronised shuddering.
‘You’re right. Those two were over years ago so she will not be happy that he keeps popping up.’
‘He seems like a nice guy,’ said Sam.
‘Apart from forcing someone with a festive phobia out of the house to face more Christmas than an elf could shake a candy cane at.’ She gestured to the flashing lights of the decorations and the large truck of Christmas trees.
‘Apart from that, yes.’ He shoved his hands deep into his pockets, making his scarf ruffle up around his ears. ‘It’s not exactly a phobia. More of an aversion.’
‘Nope. Still don’t understand it.’
They’d reached the front of the queue so their conversation was interrupted. ‘Hiya, Blythe,’ said Jassi. ‘And Sam, good to see you here tonight. Two mulled wines?’
‘Two each please,’ said Blythe, and Jassi raised an eyebrow. ‘They’re not all for us.’
‘I believe you,’ she said, swapping the warm mugs for the cash they both handed over. ‘Don’t forget to bring the mugs back,’ Jassi reminded them.
They made their way through the crowd to where Owen was bidding furiously on the six-foot trees. Sam tried to pass him his mulled wine but he was too engrossed. ‘Does he realise that he’ll still get one if he stops pushing the price up?’ Sam asked Blythe.
‘Possibly not.’ She tried to see who he was bidding against as they sipped their drinks and enjoyed the drama. Greg was looking over by the elf hut and the bidder was the other side. ‘Owen, let it go. There’s plenty of trees.’
‘But I want that one,’ he said to Blythe. ‘One more pound!’ he shouted at Greg.
Vicky appeared, looking fraught. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Getting a Christmas tree. This is ace.’
‘No, it’s not. The idea is it’s a bit of fun. You’re pushing the price too high.’
‘But I thought that was the whole idea?’ Owen looked confused.
‘Sold!’ shouted Greg. He gave a firm nod towards the elf hut but none of his usual insightful banter regarding the winning bidder.
‘Awww,’ said Owen. ‘I lost my tree.’
‘Come on, let’s get you an equally good one,’ said Blythe, towing Owen off to the truck.
After rejecting four others he settled on a fabulous-looking tree that was barely being held in place by the mesh. ‘That’s a bushy one for sure,’ said Blythe.
Owen happily handed over the money and tried to lift the tree. ‘Blimey, that weighs a bit,’ he said, lifting it onto his shoulder and almost knocking off Norman’s bobble hat. Sam and Vicky strode over carrying their drinks.
‘What are you going to do with it now?’ Vicky asked.
Owen looked puzzled. ‘Take it home and decorate it. I’ve not had a real tree before.’ He grinned at her.
‘How exactly are you getting it home?’
