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 LickIt! 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 presenceand 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.
