Inside, the cabin was alive with activity. There were some delicious smells and a lot of clatter coming from the kitchen, and male voices coming from the front room talked over a crooning Michael Bublé. Lucy could hear the cousins upstairs and a shower running. She sighed. A shower seemed like the perfect way to wash away the less enjoyable parts of the day—Christmas Day. Her white Christmas.

It had been far from perfect, but was she actually disappointed? She pulled off her gloves and touched her fingertips to her lips, remembering the feel of Will’s lips against hers.

“Everything okay?” Of course, he’d seen her do that. He must have thought she was the type of woman who read romance novels and watched those silly Hallmark films. Well, she did watch those, but only at Christmastime.

“Yes, sorry, a little lost in thought.”

“I could see that,” he teased. He shrugged out of his coat and hung it on a hook by the door, while she unwrapped her scarf. “Here,” he prompted, returning to her and unzipping her coat. He slid it down her shoulders, his gaze unwavering, and Lucy’s breath caught. They were fully clothed, standing in a brightly lit foyer in a house full of people. How was this an erotically charged moment? Yet it was because it held the promise of what they both wanted.

Will glanced around then tilted up her chin with one finger and landed a peck on her lips. They were smiling at each other when Steph walked into the foyer from the kitchen wiping her hands on a tea towel. “Hi, you two. Have fun?”

Will dropped his hand and adopted a casual tone. “Oh, yeah, for sure.” Lucy knew he wasn’t fooling anyone, let alone his mum. “Uh, I’ve got a call to make,” he said to excuse himself. He took the stairs two at a time and Lucy watched him go.

When she looked back at Steph, Will’s mum wore a knowing smile. Lucy shook her head and smirked at her own expense, and Steph grinned at her—clearly no secrets in that house. “Come into the kitchen. We’ve got wine open and you can keep us company,” said Steph as she headed back the way she’d come.

Lucy followed. “Us” was Steph and Jackie, and Lucy saw immediately that they needed more than company. The kitchen was a disaster area. “Oh, don’t look like that,” said Steph, laughing. “It may seem like chaos, but, really, we have everything under control.”

“We do this every year,” added Jackie, who was whisking an orange substance in a glass bowl, splashing it all over the counter.

Lucy, dubious about the “everything’s under control” part, took a seat on one of the stools at the breakfast bar. “Here,” said Steph as she poured Lucy a glass of red wine—a Californian zinfandel, she saw on the bottle.

“Oh, thank you.” She eyed the glass; it was an overly-generous pour, like a pub pour back in the UK.