Angi forced her chin to tip up and met his gaze, hoping that none of the rioting emotions swirling through her could be seen in her eyes. Of course he would walk away with Sara. It was the perfect revenge for the way Angi had turned on him all those years ago.

The amusement was gone from his storm-cloud eyes, replaced by a bone-deep knowledge of what this moment meant.

The worst part was she couldn’t even blame him. She deserved to be left behind with a whole crowd to witness her humiliation. This would be the perfect and most believable way to end their fake attachment, because there was no way—for all the Christmas magic at the North Pole—Angi could pretend after Gabe danced with Sara.

She lifted her brows ever so slightly in silent challenge. Do it, she wanted to scream. Turn on me the way I turned on you.

His broad shoulders rose and fell in a slow breath, and then he flicked a glance at Sara and her outstretched hand before offering his to Angi.

“I believe this dance is ours,” he said, his voice a low rumble. As if everyone around them wasn’t listening. As if she was the only person who mattered.

Angi only realized she’d been holding her breath when it blew out on a shaky exhalation. She barely registered the gasp of disbelief and subsequent whispered cruelty that Sara dispensed. It was as if she’d been plugging a dam of emotions and Gabe’s words and actions had yanked her finger out of the hole.

Love poured through Angi like a wave, and she placed her trembling fingers in his hand. “Every dance is ours,” she told him.

Right then she decided to hell with pretend. She had fallen for this man with her entire heart, and she wasn’t going to let him go.

As he led her onto the dance floor, the music shifted to “I’ll Be Home for Christmas,” crooned by the female vocalist’s smooth alto.

The past few weeks had changed Angi and her idea of home, what it could mean to her. To a woman who’d learned a hard lesson about not being able to count on a man, Gabe and his steady presence in her life—in Andrew’s life—had been a revelation. She could count on him in the most important way possible. She could count on him with her heart.

“Thank you,” she said as she wrapped her arms around Gabe’s neck.

He pulled her close, and they swayed to the music along with dozens of other couples. The scene with the two other women was ostensibly forgotten by the onlookers since it afforded no juicy town gossip.

Angi would always remember that Gabe had chosen her.

“It would put a damper on the festive mood if the creative genius behind the event got in a fistfight as the main attraction. Can’t have you hogging all the attention.”

She leaned back enough to look into his eyes. They were once again bright with amusement, but Angi wasn’t going to let him make light of what was between them.