Chapter Three
Darcy
“You know what you need,” Milo said as he walked into Lick It!’s kitchen, bag slung over his shoulder, sunglasses on his head, obnoxiously patterned shirt half-unbuttoned, and moustache curling slightly at the end like a Victorian strongman.
I supposed it was better than the seventies porn-stache he’d been sporting in May. Although, with the sunglasses he looked as if he should be starring in an old detective show set in Miami, complete with a very cheesy catchphrase.
“I’m not sure I want to know,” I said, pausing for a second from breaking up digestive biscuits with a rolling pin to look at him witheringly.
“A sausage sandwich and a good wank. Perfect stress relief. And don’t lie and tell me you’re fine, you’ve looked thirty seconds away from imploding for the last six weeks.”
“With good reason! We’ve just opened a new business, and we’re in the middle of our first summer season.”
“True, but your stress goes beyond that.”
“No, I have very normal, regular levels of stress.”
Milo raised an eyebrow. “Then why did you go to the doctor two weeks ago?”
“Because I had an appointment,” I said, very unimpressed with this line of questioning. I put my rolling pin down and tried to lean casually against the counter, like I had better things to do. Which technically I did if we wanted to have stock for the weekend.
“About what?”
“Why is it any of your business?”
“Because I’m one of your best friends and business partners,” Milo said with a shrug. “But you’re right, Alfie should know too. Alfie!”
“No, that’s—”
“What’s going on?” Alfie asked, stepping through the doorway from the shop into the kitchen.
He had the iPad from behind the counter in hand, and I assumed he was doing either a stock take for the weekend or something for our financial records.
I’d learned to leave the finances to him, because they were in much better hands with him than me.
Although Alfie was just as bad for getting stressed, so much so that he’d nearly lost his adorably sweet gothic boyfriend, Jonathan, recently because he struggled to balance work and everything else.
I’d tried to shield Alfie from my own worries, because the last thing he needed was another burden to bear.
But now Milo was trying to stir shit.
Didn’t he have anything better to do?
If he kept this up, I’d find a reason for him to deep clean the chiller. Which would be very petty of me, but I didn’t need him poking around. Even if it did come from a genuine place of love and concern.
I couldn’t have sounded more like an arsehole if I’d tried.
“Darcy won’t tell me why he went to the doctor two weeks ago—you know, the day Theo and Laurie turned up to threaten you—and I think it’s because he’s stressed but angel face here won’t admit it,” Milo said, pointing an accusatory finger at me as he strolled across the kitchen to put his bag down.
“And I told you, it’s personal.”
“It’s not serious, is it?” Alfie asked with a worried frown.
“No, it’s not serious. I just…” What did I say to get them to stop asking? Did I lie to them? Would that be easier? “I had a UTI and I needed some antibiotics.”
Yes, it turned out I would rather lie and give myself a UTI. Although why the fuck I picked that, I had no idea.
Milo stared at me as he tried to read my expression. “Really?”
“Yes! Why would I lie about that?”
“To get out of telling the truth because you don’t want to worry us,” Milo said. “It’s a classic Darcy move.”
“Diversions and distractions are one thing, but lying is another,” Alfie said.
“And I really don’t think Darcy would lie about this.
” He smiled encouragingly at me, and it made me feel worse.
I hated the fact I was digging myself a hole, but I didn’t know how to stop.
They’d give me a ladder if I asked, but Milo would also give me shit for months.
And the pair of them would be paranoid as fuck about me.
“I suppose,” Milo said slowly. He thought for a second and when he opened his mouth to add more thoughts, I cut him off and said,
“By the way, we’ve had some complaints about the presence of seagulls and a reminder from the local council that nobody should be feeding them.
” I fixed Milo with a long, hard look and, for once, he had the good grace to look sheepish.
“They are pests and they’re getting an attitude.
Apparently one walked into the sandwich shop on the front last week and took a cheese butty off the counter. Madge was furious!”
“Fucking hell,” Milo said. “Now that is brazen.”
“Which is why we should be discouraging them,” Alfie said. He’d never approved of Milo’s attempts to build a seagull army to enact petty vengeance on our next-door neighbour, Rupert, for some imagined slight.
I’d long since decided against getting involved, because I had better things to focus on, but Alfie seemed determined to attempt to instil sense in Milo.
I didn’t think it was working.
“I have never encouraged them in my life!” Milo exclaimed.
“Really? That’s what you’re going with?” I asked as Alfie sighed exasperatedly.
“Yeah, for today.” He shrugged. “Madge is terrifying, I’m not telling her I like the winged bastards.
” Milo turned and strolled towards the front of the shop, whistling nonchalantly and throwing in a few scattered lines of song here or there before suddenly shouting, “Alfie, come and help me get the boards out.”
Alfie shook his head but didn’t move. “You promise you’re okay? You know you can tell us if you’re not.”
“I know, but I’m fine. Honestly. We’re just a little busier than I anticipated, but it’s not a bad thing.
” I smiled, hoping it didn’t look forced.
“Oh, I meant to say, we should revisit the idea of loyalty cards. I know it was mentioned, but I don’t know if we ever got anywhere with it.
And I’m sure it wouldn’t be too difficult to get Milo to put something together. ”
“Sounds good. Maybe we can talk about it next week? I can look at some pricing options over the weekend then, as well as some ideas of what we could offer.”
“Perfect,” I said, picking up my rolling pin again and glancing down at the large plastic bag full of biscuits I’d been in the middle of smashing. Alfie turned to head back out front, and I tried to ignore the anxiety gnawing in my chest by bringing the rolling pin down, hard, on the bag.
Lying to my friends was a new low for me and I didn’t like it. It hadn’t made me feel any better either.
If anything, I felt worse.
But I’d lied for the right reasons, if that was even a thing, and it would be worth it in the end, whenever that was. I simply had to get through this rough patch first, like one of those tankers sailing across the treacherous waves of the North Sea.
As long as I didn’t fall overboard in the process.
“You know, if you keep going like that, we’ll need to think of a new way to use biscuits,” Owen said, his voice casually cutting through my spiralling thoughts like a beam of sunlight pushing through thick rain clouds, creating a bright patch of stillness on the surface of rough water.
My eyes focused on the bag of biscuits on the counter, rolling pin hovering in mid-air. I’d only meant to break them up into small chunks to mix into our tea and biscuit flavour, but instead I’d turned them into crumbs. “Bollocks,” I said, irritated at myself for getting so wrapped up.
“Don’t worry about it,” Owen said. “We’ve got plenty of biscuits.”
“I know, I just… it’s such a waste.”
“Nah, man, we can do something with them. Maybe we could try a cheesecake flavour? Use this as little balls of biscuit base. Or I could just make us a cheesecake.” With every calm word he spoke, I felt myself starting to relax.
And instantly my mind began to explode with ideas, each one sparking like a firework.
Strawberry was the obvious choice for a cheesecake flavour, especially since they were in season, but I wanted something more.
We already did a strawberries and cream ice cream, so contrasting that would be good.
Maybe with something bright and fresh… a herb perhaps.
Mint was a classic since it provided a sharp, refreshing complement to the sweetness of strawberries.
It was why you often saw them in summer drinks together, like a lemonade or mojito.
Basil was another option, and it was the one I was leaning towards since it was a beautiful balance of sweet and savoury, with hints of mint, pepper, and even anise. It would cut through some of the richness of the ice cream, which we made with local milk, without being too overpowering.
“Strawberry and basil cheesecake,” I murmured as my mind wandered, already mentally gathering up what I’d need to make it a reality.
“Hell yeah, that’d be awesome! I love that. Sweet but not overly so.”
“That’s what I thought. I don’t know if we have any basil though.”
“No worries, I can go out and grab some. It’ll only take me a few minutes,” he said and I realised he hadn’t even put his bag down.
He must have literally walked in and seen me lost in thought.
Had it been that obvious something was wrong?
Or was it just the fact he’d seen me pulverising biscuits to dust and realised I wasn’t concentrating?
“Do you mind?”
“Of course not. It’s not a big deal.”
“Thank you,” I said with a smile. “I really appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I’ll, er, I’ll start on another bag of biscuits while you’re gone. But I promise to concentrate this time.”
He grinned. “If you don’t, I guess we’ll have to make more cheesecake.”
“That’s true. I was thinking, we could mix the crumbs with butter and leave it to chill, then roll it into little balls and set them again. There’s probably a more efficient way to do it, but it will do for a test batch.”
“Sounds awesome. I can give you a hand when I get back, then I’ll finish up the batches of masala chai and cinder toffee,” he said, and I realised he’d used a hairband to push his hair back out of his eyes, the waves brushing his shoulders.
It showed off the square line of his jaw and drew my eyes instantly to his face.
The longer I looked at him, the more I found to look at—from the little scar on his temple to the bump in his nose to the depth of his cupid’s bow and the length of his eyelashes. And his eyes… a green-brown that reminded me of a forest in summertime, so beautiful I could get lost in them.
Shit! No! I wasn’t supposed to be thinking about how stunning Owen was.
I was supposed to be thinking about ice cream. And crushing biscuits.
And strawberries and basil with little pockets of cheesecake; rich and sweet and fresh and creamy.
I hoped Owen would like it. I wanted to make sure he tried it first, because without him, I’d be stood here cursing myself.
“Thank you,” I said, hoping he knew it was for more than his plans for the masala chai and cinder toffee.
“You’re welcome,” he said with another smile, one that made my stomach drop out of my feet and my knees wobble. “I can’t wait to see how it turns out!”
“Me too.”
“Awesome. Okay, back in five.” He turned and strolled towards the kitchen door while I stared, rolling pin still in hand.
For someone who wasn’t supposed to be focusing on how gorgeous his employee was, I was doing a pretty piss-poor job. But I wasn’t sure I could bring myself to stop.
Mostly because I didn’t know how.