Lavinia Bennett’s face was as dark as burnt toast. She shoved Claire Camp off her and scrambled to her feet, brushing crumbs and embarrassment from her dress.
The push jolted Claire Camp out of her daze, too. Glancing around at the crowd that had quickly formed a circle around them, her face cycled through every color imaginable—pale, then red, then almost purple—like somebody had hit the “randomize” button on a Christmas light display. She covered her face and got up as well.
When she looked up, she saw Olivia Bennett standing there, perfectly calm, as if the chaos around her was just background noise at a boring office meeting. The contrast between Olivia’s composure and her own messiness stung.
The whispers and stares around her made Claire’s blood boil. She’d already lost face, so why should Olivia get off easy? With a flash of reckless resolve, Claire’s hand shot up again, aiming to slap Olivia.
But this time, before she could even swing, her wrist was caught in an iron grip.
It wasn’t Olivia. It was Carlson Baker, his frown so cold you’d think he’d practiced it in front of a freezer. “What do you think you’re doing?” he snapped.
Claire froze under his icy glare.
She didn’t even get a word out before her mother’s voice cut through the crowd. “Claire, what on earth is going on?”
Claire wrenched her hand free and shot Alice Austin a pitiful look. “Mom, Olivia Bennett shoved me!”
Alice Austin took a long, appraising look at her daughter, then frowned and repeated, “Olivia Bennett?”
“Yeah, Lavinia’s Olivia,” Claire clarified.
With a huff, Alice followed Claire’s pointing finger—only to lock eyes with Carlson Baker, whose expression could have soured milk.
Carlson gave the mother and daughter duo a withering look before turning back to Olivia, concern softening his features just a touch. “Are you alright?”


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