Dripped (Lick It! #2)

Chapter One

Darcy

Sometimes, I wondered how difficult it would be to run away from my problems.

The running would be the easy part, I could do that without thinking. But the rest of it? The leaving behind my friends and community and the dream I’d convinced myself would make me happy ever since I was six years old? That would be more complicated.

Maybe I just wanted to run away because the reality of my ice cream shop dream coming true was that it was so much harder than I could have ever imagined.

I’d known there would be late nights, early mornings, and constant stress over budgets and staffing and stock, but in my mind that had all felt manageable.

If anything, I’d considered it a fun challenge.

But now… I really wished I hadn’t manifested the idea of Lick It!

being a runaway success. Because while, deep down, I knew I should be bloody grateful for the way the shop had taken off in the two months since we’d opened, I couldn’t help but idly dream for things to be quieter.

Even if I knew I’d be just as stressed then, only for different reasons.

It was a damned either way kind of situation.

And I’d still probably be here, at six in the morning, pounding the pavements of Heather Bay in an attempt to lower my soaring blood pressure and clear my head.

The sun hadn’t long risen and there was still a thick strip of gold along the horizon, the morning light making the grey-blue water of the North Sea glitter and sparkle.

There were a few fishing boats heading out of the bay, their motors leaving fizzing white lines across the surface, and I paused for a moment to watch them, catching my breath as I leant on the metal railings that ran along the edge of the front.

It was already getting warm and I was out of practice after taking the last few months off from running.

I could already feel sweat running down my spine, sticking my shirt to my skin.

I took a deep breath as I pushed my damp hair off my face, wishing I’d thought to tie it back or get a hair band.

It was longer than I was used to, the result of not having any time to get it cut since May.

Milo kept saying I needed to find more time for self-care, but there were only so many hours in the day and what I didn’t spend sleeping needed to be used for work. I’d manage until the autumn and then deal with my hair.

Maybe next year I’d shave it all off before the summer began.

At least then I’d have one less thing to worry about.

A dog barked excitedly as it ran across the beach, its paws spraying dark sand as it chased a tennis ball into the waves.

I grinned as I watched it bounce around proudly, tail going a hundred miles an hour as it pranced over to its owner, dropping the ball onto the beach by their feet before dashing off in readiness, barking happily.

If my life was as simple as chasing tennis balls across the beach, I’d probably be that happy too.

My gaze roamed across the beach, pausing now and then to watch another of the early morning dog walkers or sea birds waddling across the sand in search of an easy meal.

In a few hours, the beach would start to teem with life as the holidaymakers arrived for the day and all the shops and food kiosks opened. But for now, it was almost peaceful.

As close as it could be at this time of year anyway.

Something in the water caught my eye and I squinted, raising my hand to shield my gaze from the dazzling light of the morning sun. There was someone swimming in the bay, cutting smoothly through the water as they made their way towards the shore.

Who the fuck wanted to go swimming off the North Yorkshire coast at six in the bloody morning?

I knew it’d been damn hot lately but that didn’t mean the sea was going to be warm! We weren’t exactly in Antigua. I doubted it was any more than fifteen degrees, especially at this time of day.

You couldn’t bloody pay me to get in.

I leant over the railing, trying to figure out if I knew who it was. Any thoughts of continuing my run faded as my curiosity took hold. I hadn’t been back in Heather Bay long enough to know who everyone was, so there was no telling if I’d even recognise them, but that didn’t dissuade me.

But when they emerged from the water, water dripping down their bronzed, tattooed skin and off their brown curls, which were now plastered to their scalp, I knew exactly who it was.

Fuck. Me. Sideways.

It was Owen.

Owen had joined the kitchen team at Lick It!

, my burgeoning artisan ice cream shop, a few weeks ago to help me keep up with the increasing demand.

He was a wonderfully calming presence and nothing seemed to faze him, not even hordes of tourists or my best friend, and co-owner, Milo’s attempts to tame the local seagull population.

Every time I stepped into the kitchen and saw his smile, I felt my stress start to leach away.

He’d said he’d worked in a variety of restaurant kitchens before, and his expertise was evident from the way he handled himself.

He didn’t need micro-managing, he didn’t need constant supervision, he just got on with the job while singing along to the radio and occasionally suggesting the most gorgeous flavour combinations for us to try.

He’d been perfecting a lemon, raspberry, and sea salt ice cream and I couldn’t wait to get it onto the menu.

Every time I tried some it felt like summer and the sea on my tongue.

One drip reminded me of beach picnics, family holidays, the raspberry canes in my mum’s garden, fresh summer puddings, and the lemon groves I’d once visited on the Amalfi coast.

It was pure heaven.

I stared as he waded to shore, his body glistening as sunlight danced off the water still clinging to him.

He was wearing some sort of wetsuit, only with shorts and half-sleeves, and I couldn’t stop myself from looking at the way it moulded itself to him.

His skin was a patchwork of tattoos and scars, from the years he’d spent travelling, and every time I looked at them, I wanted to know more.

To know everything.

There was a gorgeous, casual smile lighting up his face as he pushed his sopping curls out of his eyes, and it made my stomach twist awkwardly.

Which it shouldn’t have done. Owen was my employee, someone I paid to make ice cream, not to ogle like some creep.

And this whole situation was not some studio porn set-up where I got to fuck my hot co-worker.

Fuck. No. Not hot. Definitely not hot.

Attractive, yes, but in a general, aesthetic, I-had-eyes way. Not hot. There was a distinct line between the two and I was not going to cross it. Not even in my own head.

Otherwise, working together would quickly become hell on Earth, and I was not prepared to start popping random stiffies in the middle of the kitchen because I couldn’t keep my eyes to myself.

“No, no. You’re not doing this,” I muttered under my breath as I tried to push away from the railings so I could make a hasty escape before Owen saw me.

But stopping and standing still in the middle of my run had turned my legs to jelly and made my feet go numb.

I hissed and winced, stumbling sideways and nearly smacking my head against the railings as the soles of my feet started to tingle.

Fucking Christ, a drunken seagull would’ve been more graceful than me.

“Darcy?” Owen’s voice was bright and warm, but it still sent a chill running down my spine because it meant he’d spotted me. Crap! This was not supposed to happen. Maybe I could play it off as being out of breath? That might work, since it wasn’t a complete lie.

“Hey, Owen,” I said, turning to look down at the beach where Owen was waving to me, towel in hand. He looked even more gorgeous up close, and I knew the image of him striding out of the water was going to haunt me for years. “Did you have a nice swim?”

“Yeah, it’s a little colder than I’ve been used to but it’s refreshing. Good way to start the day!”

“I’ll take your word for it,” I said, smiling awkwardly.

“Not a swimmer?”

“Not at these temperatures.”

He laughed, the sound rolling through me like waves on the beach. “You never know, you might enjoy it.”

“I think I’ll stick to running thanks, even if it does turn my legs to jelly. I, er, I’m a little out of practice.” My fingers were still clinging on to the railing, like they expected my feet to betray me if I tried to take another step.

“You have been pretty busy, but it’s awesome you’re getting back to it.”

“Thanks. I’m trying at least.”

“Every step forward is a positive one,” he said with a smile, which apparently now possessed the ability to also turn my insides to jelly. I didn’t like that. Well, I did. But I shouldn’t have.

Owen clearly didn’t know what he was doing to me, but that was good because I didn’t want to make him feel awkward.

So instead of staring at him while he towelled off his curls, I turned my head to look along the front and realised they were opening the little coffee and ice cream hut at the other end.

Technically, they were my competition, but the reality was different.

We were in different locations with different products and serving the market in different ways.

I’d even gone and introduced myself to them before we’d opened and had a nice chat, and it was good to have someone in the same market to compare things with.

“Do you need to get back to your run?” Owen asked and I realised his gaze had followed mine, although I didn’t know how much he could see over the line of colourful beach huts which ran along the edge of the sand, pressed up against the concrete and railings of the front.

“Er, probably not,” I said. “My, um… I stopped for a quick breather and now my muscles have turned to jelly. So, I think I’m done for today, especially since we’ve got a full day in the kitchen ahead of us.”

“Cool. Well, since you’re not shooting off, do you want to grab some coffee? I think Wendy usually opens up pretty early for dog walkers.”

“I’d like that. Yes, er, that sounds great,” I said, stumbling over my words like I’d never had a friend ask if I wanted to grab a drink. Because that’s all we were: friends.

“Awesome. Want me to come up there or do you want to come down and walk along the beach with me?”

“I’ll come down to you.”

“Sweet, let me just grab my stuff.”

He jogged away down the line of beach huts as I tentatively made my way towards the stairs at the end of the front. My feet were less sore now and although my thighs ached, I didn’t feel like I was going to fall over.

I watched Owen grab a backpack from beside one of the huts and open it to pull out a giant, towelling hoodie, which he tugged over his head.

It was dark green, with a large pouch pocket across the front, and came all the way down to his knees.

It was the sort of thing that was practical, not stylish, but he managed to make it look effortlessly cool anyway.

The sleeves ended around his elbows, brushing the edge of one of his tattoos—a line of turtles swimming around his arm.

“Got that one in Sydney,” he said as we started walking slowly across the sand.

“Little shop near Bondi. Nearly killed me not going in the water while it healed, but it was worth it. Although, that was also when I tried taking up skateboarding and shredded my knee falling off trying to grind along a railing.”

“Weren’t you wearing knee pads?”

“I did afterwards,” he said with a carefree smile. “Learnt my lesson.”

“The only scar I’ve got with a vaguely interesting story is my ear.

” I pointed at my right lobe and the puckered scar in the middle of it.

“Milo tried to pierce it when we were thirteen and it got infected. Alfie always says he’d known it was a bad idea and we should’ve listened to him, but Milo says it’s fine because I didn’t lose my ear. ”

“Damn, even I know that’s a bad idea and I’ve done my fair share of stupid shit,” he said, chuckling. “But hey, you got a cool story and you’re all still friends. That’s a win to me.”

I smiled as I looked over at him, trying to let his relaxed aura wash over me.

I loved the way he seemed to be able to turn every negative into a positive, every disaster into something he could learn and move on from.

We were so opposite in that regard, where I worried and stewed over everything until I’d turned myself inside out, even if you couldn’t always tell from the outside.

But Owen seemed to roll with everything life threw at him, riding the waves until he landed in calmer waters.

Maybe, if I was lucky, it was something he’d be able to teach me to do over the summer.

After all, with the school holidays kicking off, we’d be busier than ever and I needed to keep my stress levels down, unless I wanted another lecture from the nurse about my blood pressure. If anyone needed to learn how to roll with the punches, it was me.

And if it meant I got to spend a little more time with Owen, I wouldn’t complain.