Chapter Four
Owen
“I was thinking ’bout going up castle today,” Dad said as he spread marmalade thickly onto his toast, his words so casual I almost believed he didn’t have an ulterior motive.
Almost.
Dad had been working as a gardener at the castle for close to fifty years and getting him to down tools for his hip replacement, and the eight to twelve weeks of recovery he was on strict orders to take, was like trying to convince a fish to stop swimming.
And I got it, I did, it must have been bloody torture to be away from his beloved gardens for so long.
But if he didn’t do the recovery, he wasn’t going back to work for months.
Just because he felt fine, it didn’t mean he was ready to be back weeding or planting or pushing heavy wheelbarrows round while chatting to his roses and teaching the new under-gardeners about the proper way to do things. Which was always his way.
It was an exercise in patience, and I wondered if this was the universe’s way of giving me a taste of what my dad’d had to deal with when I was a teenager and desperate to be anywhere but here.
“Oh? Any reason?” I asked as I stirred my coffee and took a sip as I leant against the kitchen counter. It was my second of the morning, but not nearly as nice as Wendy’s.
“Roses should still be in bloom. And the lavender. And it’d be nice to see everyone.”
I hummed. I wasn’t falling for his tricks, because I knew these plays too well. After all, I’d learnt them from someone. “Just to see everyone?”
“Aye,” Dad said, not meeting my eyes as he picked up his enormous mug of tea.
His hands were tanned and weathered from all the years spent outside, the dirt under his nails practically ingrained there.
“Honestly, boy, it’s like you expect me to go skydiving or something.
I’m just going for a wander, nowt wrong with that. ”
“A wander would be awesome, just remember your stick, take plenty of breaks, and don’t get involved with any gardening. And that includes giving the roses a casual once-over.”
“I can look, can’t I? That only involves me eyes.”
“Aye, you can look, but I know you. You’re not just going to look.”
He glanced up at me from his seat at the worn kitchen table and smiled, his eyes crinkling and dancing with mischief. “I might.”
“You won’t,” I said, raising my eyebrows and trying not to grin. It was like arguing with myself in thirty years.
“Yer a right pain, y’know?”
“Takes one to know one,” I said, holding out my mug and raising it in cheers. Dad laughed and shook his head before picking up his toast.
“I should’ve moved in with your brother, he wouldn’t have noticed.”
“That’s because he’s got two kids under three. And he would’ve noticed, then come to drag you out by the ear. Who’d you’d rather deal with?”
“You, but only just,” he said. “Yer brother’s too responsible now. I’d get a right bollocking.”
“You’ll get one from me too if you’re not careful.” I put my coffee down and began to make myself some breakfast, grabbing a bowl out of the cupboard in front of me for some homemade granola, and a few bags of various dried fruits, and chocolate chips, to add to it.
I’d gotten the granola recipe from a guy I’d met in California several years ago, when I’d stopped there for a few weeks between destinations to surf and hike and explore. It’d been a fun diversion, and I’d seen some beautiful sights, and it was on my long list of places to go back to one day.
Along with half the rest of the world.
There were so many things out there I wanted to see, and never enough time to get to them.
Just thinking about it was making my fingers itch and my soul restless, the desire to go somewhere, anywhere, pulling at something deep inside me.
I hadn’t planned where I might go after my dad was fully recovered and I was relieved of my care duties, because it would only make my fidgetiness worse.
On the other hand, would it be bad of me to make a list of places I fancied? Do a cheeky little bit of research on visas and jobs and what I’d need to do to get there. It wouldn’t do any harm.
“How’s that boss of yours doing?” Dad asked as he picked up his other piece of toast. “Saw an advert for the shop in here.” He gestured at the local magazine resting on the table alongside a stack of gardening titles, because he seemed to subscribe to all of them.
“Didn’t think you needed any more business. ”
“I think they placed the ad ages ago,” I said, adding alternating handfuls of dried banana and chocolate chips to my bowl. Because you could never have too much of either. “It’s probably aimed at tourists. Like people who stay in holiday cottages.”
Dad hummed and nodded. “Aye, that makes sense. There’s enough of them.” He looked at me shrewdly. “You’re still worried about him, aren’t you?”
“Yeah.” I walked over to the fridge to grab some Greek yoghurt, trying to put my thoughts into words. “I know this is, like, his dream but I’m worried he’s taking on too much, y’know? He’s so bloody stressed all the time, and I don’t think he knows how to switch off.”
“The running not helping then?”
“I don’t know, maybe?” I’d told Dad about bumping into Darcy by the beach and his aims to reduce his stress, because I’d wanted a sounding board to make sure I wasn’t being too interfering.
Most of the time, I was a pretty relaxed guy who tended to let people be unless they wanted my input, but there was something about Darcy that niggled at the back of my mind because I wasn’t convinced he’d ask for help until it was too late.
It was kind of ironic too, considering they’d all been on at Alfie for working too much, not sharing that he was struggling, and nearly breaking up with his boyfriend—who was the sweetest, quietest guy, and who had to have a constitution of steel considering he was still wearing black suits in the middle of summer.
I had to assume Darcy thought he was different. Like that “do as I say, not as I do” kind of friend. The one who’d be there for you through everything but chose to actively ignore their own problems. Although, since he’d taken up running, I kind of had to assume he was vaguely self-aware.
I still wanted to help him though. I just hadn’t thought of a way to suggest it outside of work.
Maybe it would have to be in the kitchen instead…
I could work with that. The strawberry-basil cheesecake ice cream test had been so much fun, and I couldn’t wait to get back into the kitchen today to finish churning it.
I already knew it was going to taste awesome, but I wanted to watch Darcy realise that for himself.
He’d been so much more relaxed yesterday when he’d been working on perfecting the flavour and rolling out the balls of biscuit base we were going to throw in, and I’d loved watching him doing his thing and vibing.
He’d even started singing along to Dolly.
We’d said we were going to test some flavours this summer, and I was more convinced than ever we needed to start sooner rather than later. Before my brain went back to other forms of stress relief I could offer him.
The ones I wasn’t supposed to be thinking about.
“I still think he should try swimming with me,” I said, only half watching as I spooned yoghurt into my bowl. I wasn’t fussy about the amount. “Being in the water is so good for helping you switch off.”
“Not at six in the bloody morning.”
“Why does everyone say that? It’s not that bad.”
“Are yer telling me it’s not cold?”
“Yeah, it is, but it’s not freezing. It’s refreshing! You told me you used to swim in the bay all the time when you were younger.”
“After work,” Dad said with a wry smile. “When I was sweaty and dirty. Then it was nice.”
“Yes, but you were always up and working with the sun anyway,” I said, returning his smile as I stuck the spoon in my bowl and put the tub of yoghurt back in the fridge.
“Best time of the day.” There was a soft look in Dad’s eyes as he gazed out of the kitchen window to his beloved garden.
It was small, but his pride and joy, and I’d done my best to help look after it while he supervised from a garden chair.
It hadn’t changed much over the years, although the lawn was neater now without my brother and me churning it up.
He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.
“I miss my gardens, Owen. I’ve never been away from ’em this long,” he said quietly.
“I know they’ll be doing a good job of looking after ’em—after all, I trained most of ’em—but I want to see it for myself.
Just sit with me roses for a while, watch the bees on the lavender, see the delphiniums and check they’re being cut back properly so they can bloom again. ”
I nodded, knowing I couldn’t deprive him of this.
And maybe if he went, he’d remember the recovery would all be worth it in the end.
“Then go. Just take it steady, okay? You put all the benches in for a reason. Get a cup of tea and a scone from the café and relax. Do you want me to drop you off before I go? Then you can see if Matthew can come and get you later.”
“I can find someone to give me a lift home,” he said. “Don’t worry, even I know I can’t walk all that way right now.”
“Awesome, sounds like a plan!”
Dad beamed and my heart lit up like a neon sign in the dark.
Making people happy had always been something that brought me joy.
It was why, wherever I was in the world, I loved working with food.
It brought people together in a way nothing else did, and over the years I’d collected people’s recipes and the stories that went with them, so I could take a little bit of that love with me and carry it forward.
Now I just had to figure out how to make Darcy happy.
Without sex.
Although… I was pretty sure I’d seen him looking at me when he thought I was busy. And not just in a casual, friendly, watching what I was doing sort of way.
Obviously, there was a chance I could be wrong but, like, I didn’t think he’d be staring at my arse that much if he wasn’t a little bit interested. He didn’t seem to just be looking at my shorts.
I’d been looking at him too. It was impossible not to.
Darcy was fucking stunning, kind of classically European handsome.
Like he should be sitting in a restaurant on the French Rivera in linen trousers and a striped shirt, sipping champagne.
In truth, he wasn’t the sort of guy I was usually attracted to, but there was something more about Darcy that stopped me in my tracks.
I think it was his smile. His real smile. The one he wore when he was focused on work and enjoying every second of the process, when the stress slipped away for a second and I got to see who he was underneath it.
It was a smile I wanted to see every day.
Maybe I needed to try flirting a bit, see what his reaction was, and take it from there. If he turned me down then that was that, no hard feelings. And if he was interested, maybe we could have some fun for the rest of the summer. It wasn’t like we had to get married or anything.
I’d made that mistake before.
And I wasn’t going to make it again.
I grinned to myself as I shoved a spoonful of granola into my mouth. That was another plan sorted.
All I had to do was get him alone in the kitchen for some recipe testing—which was simple, we could do that any day—flirt, and, if he didn’t run screaming, suggest we hook up for the rest of the summer so he could work his stress out through orgasms.
Simple.