Second Chances at the Log Fire Cabin: A Christmas holiday romance for 2018 from the ebook bestseller. Catherine Ferguson

reply makes me feel cold inside. The fact that Jackson hasn’t even told his closest friends about our relationship makes me feel even smaller than I already did. Which is saying something.

      ‘It’s probably difficult for him, though, with Sophie here,’ Alex points out.Tears well up but I blink them away quickly and force a smile. ‘That’s true.’

      We stand there, rather awkwardly, for a moment. Then Alex murmurs, ‘Listen, if you ever feel the need to get away – from anything – remember I’m on hand to give you a skating lesson.’

      He gives me a sly, sideways grin and, against all the odds, laughter bubbles up inside me. ‘God, I can’t imagine ever being that desperate. But I’ll bear it in mind.’

      ‘You do that. Poppy’s upstairs, by the way. She said to tell you to go straight up.’

      We turn at the sound of footsteps from behind us.

      It’s Jackson and my heart swoops.

      In the second our eyes meet, before I look away, I take in his long legs in the faded jeans, his bare feet that he hated but I loved, and the blue checked shirt I bought him for his birthday back in October.

      ‘Hi Roxy. Good to see you again.’ He gives me one of his dazzling million-watt smiles that always turns my knees to jelly. Today is no exception.

      I mutter a hello, feeling awkward as hell, in total contrast to Jackson, who seems to be taking my sudden appearance at the cabin completely in his stride. He does actually look genuinely pleased to see me.

      ‘Poppy will be glad you’re here,’ he says smoothly.

      I catch a waft of his familiar cologne and it almost floors me.

      ‘Hope you’re not monopolising her, Al,’ he comments jokily to his friend. ‘Roxy’s got work to do.’

      I’m not sure what Alex’s response is because I’m already fleeing past him up the stairs. If I have to keep dodging out of Jackson’s way like this, it’s going to be one very long fortnight …

       Chapter 8

      Poppy is in bed, propped up on her pillows, looking pale. She groans when she sees me.

      ‘I should have known eating two-day-old kedgeree would give me a gippy tummy. I’m so sorry about this, Roxy.’

      ‘Hey, it’s fine. Are you feeling any better?’

      She nods. ‘A bit, thanks. The symptoms have worn off at least. But I think I should stay away from the kitchen for a while, just in case any germs get transmitted.’

      ‘Well, no problem, that’s what I’m here for.’ I sound far more confident than I’m feeling. ‘You can direct proceedings from the comfort of your bed.’

      She smiles. ‘Thank goodness I had a meltdown over that burst bag of flour. If I hadn’t, we’d never have met – and then what would I have done? At least we already made a start on the next order of mince pies yesterday.’

      ‘True. We made a hundred and eighty.’

      ‘Well remembered.’

      I screw my eyes up, calculating. ‘So that’s just another … three hundred and twenty to make today?’ I smile brightly to conceal the panic that’s surging up at the very thought. We haven’t even discussed the gingerbread Santas!

      Poppy grimaces. ‘I guess that’s about the size of it. Look, just do your best, Roxy, but don’t feel pressured. I can always get up very early tomorrow morning to make the rest.’

      ‘Can I bring you anything before I start?’

      ‘No, thanks. Jed’s been really sweet, actually. He keeps popping in to make sure I’m still alive.’ She smiles fondly. ‘He’s nipped out but he said he’d bring me back some magazines to relieve my boredom.’

      I grin. ‘Not content with The People’s Friend from the skating rink kiosk, then?’

      ‘Oh, God, no!’ she says in a plummy voice, doing a fairly impressive impersonation of Sophie. ‘It has to be Harper’s Bazaar or nothing!’ She attempts a laugh then clutches her stomach miserably. ‘Jed and I were supposed to be taking part in a pairs skating contest at the rink on Tuesday night, but I’m not going to be able to do it.’

      ‘You might be feeling better by then.’

      She sighs. ‘Hopefully. But I’d already decided I’m far too busy to take part, even though it would have been fun. I’ve asked Jackson and Sophie to fill in for us.’

      I swallow miserably. They’ll make a very glamorous pair on the ice. Jackson seems to be good at everything he turns his hand to, so it wouldn’t surprise me if they were to win.

      ‘We’ll all go down there and watch. Sylvia’s closing the rink to the public for a couple of hours on Tuesday evening so the contest can go ahead.’

      ‘Sounds great,’ I lie.

      She shrugs. ‘It’s Sylvia’s way of getting a bit of publicity for the local businesses involved in her ice rink venture, including Truly Scrumptious, of course. Every business has nominated a couple to represent them – so for us, that will be Jackson and Sophie.’