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.
