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

He introduces me simply as ‘Roxy’ – no mention of the word ‘girlfriend’, which I try not to mind about. We’ve only been going out a couple of months, after all, and maybe Jackson didn’t want to be presumptuous. We join them at their table for a drink.

‘Just one,’ murmurs Jackson in my ear. ‘Is that okay?’

I smile at him, feeling deliciously mellow. ‘Of course.’

Naturally, the talk is mostly about business, so I smile and drift off, only half listening, just happy that Jackson is happy. He seems to be having a lot of chat with the woman in the stunning dress, who’s called Lara. She keeps laughing and flicking her hair and touching his arm. But watching them, I just feel proud that he’s with me. I know how important business is to Jackson and that any opportunity he has to mingle, he’s right there.

After a while, I glance at my watch and realise the time is getting on. If we’re not careful, we’ll be late to the studios. But I’m happy to leave it in Jackson’s hands – and the champagne cocktails that keep arriving are going down wonderfully well.

A little too well, I realise, when we finally make a move.

I stand up a bit too quickly, and have to cling onto Jackson because everything is spinning as if I’m on a ride at the fairground.

‘Have a great time!’ sings the girl in the sequinned dress, as we leave, giving Jackson a ‘call me’ sign.

I give her a thumbs-up because I can’t make my mouth work and I nearly fall over. Jackson grabs me just in time and I smile up at him.

Where are we going again?

Through a haze of alcohol, I vaguely recall something about the TV.

Are we going to be interviewed on the telly? God, I hope not. On the other hand, maybe being three sheets to the wind will loosen me up a bit and turn me into a reality TV star overnight! But it actually doesn’t matter where we’re going as long as my gorgeous man is here to cling onto. Jackson will look after me! Jackson Cooper loves me, not that girl in the naff, sparkly dress he was talking to for ages!

At the TV studios, Jackson asks me if I need the bathroom, which makes me giggle and tell him I’m not ten. Then he takes my arm quite firmly and steers me up the steps to our seats. It seems to take quite a long time because I can’t stop giggling and trying to make him stop and kiss me.

We finally arrive at our seats and I slump down happily and snuggle into Jackson.

Being with Jackson is making me fizz with happiness inside. My cheeks feel nicely flushed and my banter with him is rather witty (if I say so myself). I can’t stop laughing at a man sitting further along the row in front. He’s wearing a Christmas tree on his head – quite a tacky one, at that – and the person behind him taps him on the shoulder and asks him to remove it, which he does.

‘Bah humbug!’ I say, getting thoroughly into the Christmas spirit.

The woman in front of me turns and glares, and I make a shamed face at Jackson, but he just grins and squeezes my hand, which makes me even more in love with him than ever.

Feeling full of the joys, I lean my head on his shoulder and smile goofily to myself, drifting away from what’s happening on stage and into the world of my imagination. I’m moving in with lovely Jackson tomorrow! The woman sitting in front is probably just jealous because she doesn’t have a gorgeous, handsome, funny, intelligent man to make her life sparkle! And Flo is right. I need to have more confidence in myself. I should tell Jackson exactly how I feel about him …

‘Ah, do we have a pair of lovebirds here?’

The man who had been on the stage talking to the audience has suddenly appeared in the aisle next to us. He’s leaning over me, thrusting a microphone at Jackson.

‘So how long have you two been together?’ he asks.

Jackson, cool and laid-back as ever, smiles and says, ‘Not long enough for my liking.’ I smile and snuggle closer, and there’s a big ‘aaah!’ from the people around us.

Jackson kisses the top of my head, and in my cocktail haze, I feel quite weepy. I really am the luckiest girl in the world!

The TV host is looking at me now. ‘Are you enjoying yourself tonight?’ he asks.

The microphone veers towards me and my hazy brain takes in the fact that millions of people are probably watching the show at home and every one of them is waiting for me to answer. So I throw a big smile to the camera and announce, ‘I’m having a fabulous time, thank you very much. I’m the luckiest girl in the world!’

‘That’s wonderful.’ The TV host’s eyebrows rise. ‘And why’s that?’

I attempt to get my tongue around the words, Because I’m here with Jackson. But it emerges as, ‘Because I’m jeer with Hackson.’

The host nods. ‘And is there anything you want to say to – erm, your man – on this date night to beat all date nights?’

My head spins woozily as Jackson smiles down at me, and the microphone hovers expectantly in front of my nose. ‘There is, acshully.’

For some reason, an image of Flo drifts into my head.

Flo thinks I can’t be spontaneous. She thinks it’s just not who I am. But maybe, with Jackson, I can become a braver person – the person I’ve always wanted to be!

I turn to Jackson, trying my hardest to focus. And there are two of him!

Lovely Jackson. He’s been so patient with me and I really want to show him how much he means to me. And this lovely audience and the TV host are looking at me, waiting for me to speak, expecting something amazing.

I swallow hard. And then the words just tumble out of my mouth.

‘Hackson Jooper, I love you. Will you marry me?’

There’s a second’s silence then the whole studio gasps with delight.

You could hear a pin drop as Jackson clears his throat. And I wait, misty-eyed, to hear the words we’ll tell our grandchildren in years to come …

He’s staring at me, with a frozen look on his face, as if he’s never seen me before and I find myself drawn to his Adam’s apple, which keeps bobbing up and down.

Finally, he leans towards the microphone and murmurs:

‘Er,no?’

Chapter 3 (#uece8da7f-d405-5c39-8ed0-2bfce88fd7b3)

It’s amazing how quickly you sober up after your proposal of marriage is flatly turned down.

It’s also amazing how fast you can locate an exit and flee the studio – even with double vision and two left feet.

Blundering down the front steps of the building, I’m praying for some form of transport to arrive and get me out of here. The last thing I want is to hang around here, waiting for a bus or a taxi, and risk Jackson catching up with me.

If he followed me out, that is.

Did he follow me out?

I glance back, not sure if I desperately want to see him or desperately don’t.

I might get over the shame of it all – in about twenty years – if Jackson hotfooted it after me and told me he froze when I asked him to marry me and said the first thing that came into his head. And that really, now he’d had a chance to think about it, the marriage thing wasn’t such a bad idea.

But there’s no sign at all of Jackson, which hurts almost as much as the original rejection.

A bus lurches to a stop in front of me, so I jump on and sink into the nearest seat – before realising it’s going in entirely the wrong direction. Stumbling off at the next stop, I vaguely recognise an important landmark – our local kebab shop – at which point I realise I’d been on the right bus after all. The bus that is now disappearing into the distance.