Claude’s Christmas Adventure: The must-read Christmas dog book of 2018!. Sophie Pembroke

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      Thirty-three hours and fourteen minutes until Christmas Day. Holly totted up the time left in her head, and ignored the small voice at the back of her brain that added that in that case there were only fifty-seven hours until the whole thing was over for another year, and she could go back to her ordinary life, instead of the excessively jolly, Pinterest worthy, craft and baking haze of caster sugar and spray glue she’d been living in for the last month.

      She didn’t want Christmas to be over. Of course she didn’t. She loved Christmas – always had, ever since she was tiny. She hadn’t lost that festive feeling even when she was a sulky teenager, or declared that ‘Christmas isn’t as fun as it used to be’ when she became a cynical twenty-something. Nothing had ever dimmed her love of Christmas in the last twenty-seven years, and she wasn’t about to let Sebastian bloody Reynolds ruin this one, even if it meant she had to make every single cake, biscuit, decoration and gift she had pinned on her ‘Creative Christmas!’ Pinterest board.

      Okay, so this wasn’t exactly how she’d expected to spend the first Christmas in her new home, here on Maple Drive. Back in February, when Sebastian proposed, she’d expected to be hosting family and friends for Christmas nibbles and drinks, not to mention her parents and in-laws for the big day lunch itself. She’d imagined her whole house decorated in tasteful red-and-white Scandi style, with hints of silver here and there for a little sparkle. There’d be perfectly coordinated wrapped presents under the tree. She, Sebastian and Perdita would each have their stocking hanging by the fireplace, and there’d be a personally painted family plate on the hearth ready to hold Santa’s mince pie and sherry. Greenery would twine up the bannisters, twinkling with tiny fairy lights. And she and Sebastian would curl up on the sofa to watch It’s A Wonderful Life, or The Muppet’s Christmas Carol, and sip nice wines and eat fancy finger food and be ecstatically happy and, oh yes, married.

      Instead, her home looked like an explosion in a kids’ craft room. In a desperate effort to regain her Christmas spirit, even if she was single and alone this December, she’d thrown herself into crafting a homemade Christmas. Sebastian had always hated her hobbies – he far preferred to spend his money on the most expensive, most talked about items, and couldn’t understand why Holly would even want to make things herself. Sometimes, she suspected that Sebastian had never understood her.

      Holly smashed the staple gun against the ‘Santa Stop Here!’ sign she was making, so hard that the staple buckled and went pinging across the kitchen. She sighed. She’d have to go and retrieve it before Perdita stabbed her paw on it. Her precious – but admittedly rather entitled – cat would never forgive her.

      Perdita had never really liked Sebastian. Turned out, Perdita had a point.

      A knock on the door distracted her from her staple retrieval and, brushing glitter from her festively red skirt, Holly headed through to the hall to answer it, pausing only briefly to enjoy the fairy lights in the green garland on the stairs, and the tiny red felt stockings hanging from it in lieu of berries. She didn’t need a husband to have a perfectly decorated Christmas, anyway. It might not be minimalist, or magazine-worthy Scandi style, but her decorations were definitely unique. And all hers.

      It was, of course, the postman. Holly couldn’t remember the last time anyone other than her parents and the postman had knocked on her door. And since her parents were currently cruising their way around the Caribbean, that only left one option. And as the postman was kind of hot, in a broad, dark and brooding way, she didn’t mind nearly as much as she might otherwise have done.

      ‘Another parcel for you, Miss Starr.’ The postman gave her a warm smile, so at odds with the slight shadows Holly always saw in his eyes. Maybe she was imagining them. Sebastian had always said she made up stories, imagined things that weren’t there. Like him being in love with her.

      Except he’d proposed. She hadn’t imagined that. He’d just changed his mind, four months later.

      ‘Thanks.’ She took the parcel from his hands and tried not to blush. Not because he was gorgeous, but because he’d been lugging at least one parcel a day to her front door for over a month now. He probably thought she was ordering them just to give her an excuse to see him. Mind you, she could think of worse reasons. Like, I’m trying to craft the perfect Christmas to avoid thinking about how alone I am. Yeah, she really didn’t want to share that one with the postman. Although if he got a glimpse of more than her hallway, there’d be no hiding it. ‘And please. It’s Holly.’

      ‘Holly,’ he repeated, and her name didn’t sound spiky and prickly in his mouth. It sounded warm and soft. She liked it that way. ‘I’m Jack.’

      Jack. A good, strong, reliable name. And he was very reliable – as a postman. Which suited Holly perfectly. An attractive man she could admire daily as he reliably delivered her craft supplies and Christmas decorations, without her ever needing to risk anything beyond a little doorstep flirting. No disappointment, no heartbreak. Just a gentle flirtation.

      Perfect.

      ‘Hi, Jack.’ Holly even risked a small smile. He’d certainly earned it. Especially after last week’s order of air drying clay. She’d only meant to order five small packets, but somehow ended up with five packs of twenty. They had been heavy.

      Of course, now she had no idea what to say next. They’d exchanged names, she’d got her parcel … what next? Did she just shut the door? Say, see you tomorrow? Make a flirty little joke? She’d never been good at this. Oh, good grief, she couldn’t even manage a tiny bit of flirting with the postman. СКАЧАТЬ