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

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СКАЧАТЬ to applying mascara, which is proving a challenge because my hand is trembling so much.

      The truth is, it’s not the TV show that’s making me jumpy. It’s the thought that, tomorrow, I’ll be moving in with Jackson. It’s only natural to be nervous about something like that, I suppose – it’s a bit like pre-wedding nerves. It’s a big commitment, after all.

      And actually, the more I think about it, the more certain I feel that living with Jackson is absolutely the right thing to do …

      At ten o’clock tomorrow, a van will arrive to transport all my belongings to his gorgeous house in a gated community twenty miles from here, in the heart of the Surrey countryside.

      Flo seems more excited about the cutting-edge design of his house than anything, although since she’s really into architecture, I suppose that’s understandable.

      But to be honest, I’d live in a caravan as long as I was with Jackson.

      And I think he feels the same, judging by what he said to me the other day before he flew off to Spain.

      He was heading abroad to negotiate a property deal. I drove him to the airport, parked at the drop-off point and asked him if he’d miss me while he was away – and his reply was so lovely, I find myself still thinking about it days later.

      He unbuckled his seat belt and turned to look deep into my eyes. ‘Roxy,’ he murmured, ‘just the thought of spending even a couple of days without you is unbearable. What’s the bee supposed to do without the honey?’ He shrugged with a wistful smile, looking so cute and vulnerable that tears sprung to my eyes.

      When I told Mum I was moving in with Jackson, she burst out, ‘And about time, too!’ She didn’t mean it was time I moved in with Jackson – we’d only been together a couple of months – but that it was time I finally let a man get close to me.

      Now that it’s actually happening, I can’t help feeling nervous. But I’m really excited, thinking about our future together.

      ‘How on earth did Jackson get tickets for this TV show?’ Flo asks now, looking green with envy.

      ‘Oh, you know Jackson.’ I can’t help saying it with a touch of pride. ‘He’s got contacts everywhere.’

      It’s true. He’s always networking, dashing off to some event or other to ‘press the flesh’. Flo once joked that he’d attend the opening of an envelope if it meant widening his business circle, and there’s more than a grain of truth in what she said. But I think it just shows how much drive Jackson has to succeed. He’s got an entrepreneurial mind with a keen eye for a new business opportunity. He puts it down to growing up in a single-parent household with his mum, Maureen, who was utterly devoted to him but had very little money. She held down three jobs, cleaning and working as a waitress, to keep their heads above water.

      Last year, Jackson bought Maureen a modern three-bedroom house in a lovely area of Guildford. It makes me feel warm inside just to think of it.

      I finish my make-up and spin round on the stool to face Flo. ‘Do I look all right?’

      ‘You look fab.’

      I frown. ‘Are you sure?’

      She shakes her head. ‘I wish you’d believe in yourself more, Roxy. Honestly, you look fantastic. And once you’ve got that dress on, Jackson will think he’s the luckiest man alive, I promise you.’

      She crosses her hands over her heart and smiles goofily at me. ‘By this time tomorrow you’ll have moved in with him. Are you excited?’

      ‘Of course I am.’

      I spin back round to face the mirror, catching the trace of anxiety on my face. I am excited. Of course I am. It’s just that, living together, I’ll have no more excuses not to let my barriers down …

      Jackson is picking me up in ten minutes. He flew back from Spain only this afternoon. The plane was late landing and I texted him to say I’d be just as happy with a quiet night in. But I knew he’d still want to go to the show tonight. That’s one of the things I love about him. His incredible energy. He routinely works late into the night then has to be up for a seven o’clock breakfast meeting. It’s the kind of schedule that would kill most people, but for Jackson, business is like a labour of love. His enthusiasm for what he does carries him through.

      The doorbell rings and Flo dashes to the front door, returning – after some giggling in the hallway – with Fergus. They’re so loved-up, it can be pretty gruesome at times, to be honest.

      But I’m really happy for her.

      She’s a shining example that relationships can work out perfectly. She and Fergus had known each other for only three months when she proposed to him – and he said yes right away. Which I knew he would because they’re both absolutely smitten and totally right for each other. Everyone can see that. As I joked in my speech at their engagement party last month, no one else would have them, what with their mutual passions for battle re-enactments and liver and onions.

      I’m in awe of Flo’s ability to wear her heart on her sleeve.

      Five minutes later, the doorbell signals Jackson’s arrival and I grab my winter coat and bag, and totter to the door in the pale green dress, cream shrug and shoes that are much too high to actually walk in. Because I stand at five foot eleven, I’ve tended to stick mainly to flat shoes, so it’s a bit like learning to walk all over again. Jackson bought these beauties for me – nude skyscrapers with their distinctive red sole – to go with the dress. He believes a woman can never have too much glamorous footwear. He’s six foot four, which means I’m as tall as he is when I’m wearing the shoes.

      ‘Have fun,’ calls Flo. She catches me up in the hallway. ‘And just relax, hun. The fact that Jackson’s asked you to move in with him means he thinks you’re pretty special, okay? So stop acting as if you think he’s doing you a favour!’

      I grin. ‘Yes, boss. Trouble is, no one can be as happy as you and Fergus. It’s just not possible. I mean, that proposal on the battlefield as he lay wounded will go down in history as the most romantic ever. Especially the bit where the fake blood spurted all over your face.’

      She gives me a look. She’s used to me glossing over awkward moments with humour.

      ‘You know what I mean, Roxy. Stop holding back because you think you’re not good enough or something.’ She shrugs. ‘If I’d held back from proposing to Fergus, I wouldn’t be planning my wedding now, would I? And feeling the happiest I’ve ever been in my life.’

      I laugh. ‘Er, you’re not suggesting I propose to Jackson, are you?’

      ‘No, of course not.’ She grins. ‘That’s just idiot me, rushing headlong in. You have to be true to yourself. And that just wouldn’t be you.’

      ‘I’ll stick to being boringly un-spontaneous, then, shall I?’

      Before going to the TV studios, we head to an elegant bar Jackson knows for cocktails.

      Although it’s only the first week in December, Christmas has arrived in style on the high street. The shops, bars and restaurants glimmer with fairy lights and a huge Christmas tree takes pride of place in the town square.

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