Yes, they did, she thought. More than she would have liked.

“I was honored to help.” She squeezed Iris’s hands once more and stepped to the side, aware of everyone’s attention on her. Should she move closer to Gabe or keep her distance? She had to remind herself that they had a pretend relationship to maintain and her feelings weren’t supposed to be real.

Heat crept into her cheeks as she smiled at Gabe and moved closer to him. He studied her for a long moment, like he was as unsure as she was about how they should handle this very public moment. Then he took her hand and linked their fingers together. The touch both energized and grounded her.

“You’re under the mistletoe,” Iris said as she pointed toward the ceiling.

Angi glanced up to see a sprig of mistletoe dangling above the two of them. She should have realized it was there. After all, she’d helped to hang it and she’d delivered similar boughs to other stores along Main Street, spreading a bit of holiday cheer from In Bloom.

It had been nearly a week since he’d kissed her. All that time they’d spent together decorating, and he hadn’t made one move to draw her close.

The worst part was she’d wanted him to. Oh, how she’d wanted that. Even though it was stupid and pointless and would only lead to complications down the road. At least one of them was mindful of keeping their relationship on a level where it was only on display when it mattered. When they had something to prove.

Which Gabe apparently did now because he released her hand and lifted both of his to cup her face. His gaze was the color of an angry sea tonight, proof that his mood was just as stormy.

“You can’t argue with mistletoe,” he said with a secret half smile, and then he pressed his lips to hers. It was as if the people in the store disappeared in an instant and only the two of them remained. Angi couldn’t have focused on anything else if she’d tried. Gabe took over—his touch an assault on her senses. His mouth was warm and gentle. He didn’t go overboard with the kiss, but it was more than a simple peck. It was a kiss that gave a message, and the message was clear enough in Angi’s mind.

Mine.

He ended the kiss too soon—it was just for show, after all—and Angi locked her jelly knees before she did something stupid like stumble into him.

“Blame it on the mistletoe,” someone called out, and Gabe offered a smile that looked suspiciously like one of a cat who’d just feasted on the canary.

Angi forced a breezy laugh, then turned away to talk to some of the locals she knew in the store. After a few minutes of fielding questions about her mom’s health and the plans for the holiday dance, which apparently was already generating great interest within the community, she excused herself and made her way to where Andrew still stood near the cookie table, Violet Atwell glued to his side.