“She’s fine,” Angi muttered.

“How’s it going?” Dylan asked as he approached their little trio along with the man who drove the Land Rover. “Do we have everything planned to turn this place into a holiday dance hall extravaganza?”

He colored slightly when they all stared at him. “Those were Carrie’s words,” he explained quickly. “She said I wasn’t allowed to ruin the vibe by being moody or awkward during this meeting.” He laughed. “As if.”

“Oh, we’re well past moody and awkward,” Avery told him, her blue eyes lit with humor.

“Then I’m missing all the fun.” Dylan flashed a mischievous smile, then introduced his companion as Alex Ralsten, the new CEO for The Fit Collective, an athletic wear company moving their corporate headquarters to Magnolia. “Alex is single-handedly going to put this town on the map.”

“We’re already on the map.” Avery gave him a playful swat on the arm. “Thanks to me and your wife.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Alex said. “The reason the company is moving to Magnolia is because I had such a great impression of the town when I was here over the summer.”

“Are you Brett Carmichael’s friend?” Angi studied the CEO. “I remember you from the wedding.”

Alex’s eyes suddenly lit with recognition. “You’re the chef who created the amazing menu for the reception. And the food we had during the planning weekend at the Wildflower Inn?”

Gabe tried not to react as Angi slipped her hand from his. “That was me.”

“I swear to God, I’ve had dreams about your scallops and cream sauce. You are immensely talented.”

The transformation in Angi was once again nothing short of confusing as hell. She dipped her chin and looked at the ground like she was embarrassed or unworthy of the compliments. “Holly and Brett were easy to please. I enjoyed working with them. I’m glad your time in Magnolia left such a positive impression.”

“It did. I might need to schedule our company kickoff retreat at the inn just so I have an excuse to enjoy your fabulous culinary skills again.”

“Angi runs the Italian restaurant in town,” Avery told Alex, earning a glare from Angi. “What?” The blonde held up her hands. “You do run Il Rigatone.”

“But those aren’t my recipes,” Angi muttered.

“I’m sure anything you’re involved in is amazing.” Alex offered a wide grin that somehow didn’t sit well with Gabe.

Or maybe it was Angi’s reaction—a sweet smile, the kind she never gave to Gabe—that he didn’t like.

“What are we thinking for music?” Gabe asked suddenly. “A DJ can play more variety, but the energy of a live band would be festive and fun.”

Angi gaped at him. “Did you just use the words festive and fun?”

“Those are perfect descriptions.” Avery beamed at him, and he moved a few steps away from Angi. He had to get a little distance in order to tame his tumbling emotions.

“The acoustics of the space would work well for a band,” Dylan agreed. “And we’ve got the power to handle any of their AV needs.”