Rachel leans into him. “I hope you like it, sweetie.”
“Honey, this is perfect.” Jake’s eyes light up as he pulls out a sleek smartwatch. He kisses Rachel on the cheek.
Rachel beams, appearing pleased with herself. “I know you’ve been eyeing it for months. Now you can track all those workouts you keep talking about starting.”
Jake smiles big, fiddling with the watch’s settings. The room fills with the tinny beeps as he presses buttons.
“Here, Jake.” Dad passes him another gift. “This one’s from your future in-laws.”
Jake sets his new watch aside and takes the package. The gold paper catches the light from the tree’s multicolored bulbs. He removes the wrapping, revealing a leather-bound book.
“It’s a first edition ofThe Great Gatsby.” Genuine excitement fills his voice. He gingerly opens the cover, inhaling deeply. “I love that old book smell. This is incredible. Thank you both so much.”
“We’re so glad you like it, dear.” Mom smiles warmly. “We remembered you mentioning it was your favorite book in college.”
Jake mentioned the book when I dated him. I can’t believe my parents went to the effort to find a first edition—that couldn’t be cheap—and not put any thought into what they gave me.
“Jake and I must be on the top of Santa’s nice list this year.” Rachel holds two designer purses—the second must be from Jake—on her lap. “Poor Abby is on the naughty list again. Or did John get her something special?”
My blood boils, and John places his hand on my arm with an almost imperceptible shake of his head. I blow out a breath,feeling the warmth of his touch through the soft fabric of my reindeer pajamas.
“I wasn’t planning on spending Christmas here, but Mother Nature had other plans.” John keeps his hand on me. “Abby will get her gift later, and I don’t want to spoil anything, but it is very special.”
Mom claps her hands together and stands. “Does anyone want more coffee?”
As we pick up wrapping paper and refill mugs, I focus on the positives in my life: Powerfluff, my job, my health, John. Well, John for as long as our charade lasts this morning.
He tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear again. The gesture feels so natural, so right. “Abby, I—”
“Mistletoe.” Rachel’s voice rings out, cutting through whatever he was about to say. We look up to see her dangling a sprig of the festive greenery over our heads, a mischievous glint in her eye. “You know the rules.”
We did this last night, so another time shouldn’t be a big deal, right? Except my heart pounds like a bass drum. This feels different. We’ve gotten to know each other and slept in the same bed, so maybe that’s why.
“Ready?” John asks.
No, but I smile anyway. “Always.”
His lips meet mine, and it’s not a chaste peck. He cups my face, drawing me closer, and I go willingly, eagerly. His lips are soft and warm and taste like coffee and syrup. I deepen the kiss, my hands sliding into his hair. Everything else disappears, and this kiss is the best Christmas present ever. So good I don’t want it to end.
When he finally backs away, I’m breathless and more than a little dazed. He looks equally affected, his eyes wide and searching as they meet mine. The room is silent, save for the soft strains of “White Christmas” playing in the background.
Powerfluff runs toward me with a ribbon from one of the presents in her mouth. She leaps onto the coffee table like she’s about to do one of her parkour routines, but she dives headfirst into the Christmas tree instead.
Ornaments jangle, and the tree wobbles before toppling over with a resounding crash.
Chaos erupts. Mom shrieks. Dad swears. Rachel jumps onto a chair for some reason. I’m standing frozen in John’s arms.
Our gazes meet, and we’re both laughing. The deep, full-bodied laugh shakes my shoulders and brings tears to my eyes. John’s, too. Because really, what else can you do when you kiss your fake-boyfriend-slash-boss senseless under the mistletoe in front of your family right before your cat destroys Christmas?
As John and Jake help Dad right the tree, I try to capture Powerfluff (who looks entirely too pleased with herself). I catch John’s eye, unable to stop myself from smiling at him. Our fake relationship might just be the realest thing I’ve ever had.
Merry Christmas indeed.
CHAPTER NINE
John
Powerfluff’s rampage left a mess in the Sinclairs’ living room. The tree is upright again, but garland lies on the floor and shattered ornaments crunch underfoot. The scent of pine from a candle mingles with burnt coffee—the pot forgotten in the chaos.
