I was still a bit surprised I’d managed to pluck up the courage to ask him out. After all, this wasn’t meant to be anything more than a working relationship with added sex. But I liked Owen, and we got on well, so I didn’t see why we couldn’t also be friends. Which again, we kind of were already.
I just wanted to spend a bit more time with him outside of the kitchen. Talk to him without the pressure of getting things made or figuring out what we needed to order. It felt like I spent half my time at Lick It! answering questions about stock, marketing, budgets, and while I’d gotten good at responding while cooking, it often felt like I was being pulled in two directions. It was part of the reason I was so stressed, because it seemed like everything landed on my shoulders.
And maybe it should, as the primary owner, but maybe I also needed to find a way to ask Alfie and Milo to take more off my plate. Or at least, feel confident in doing things without double-checking with me first—more of an ask for forgiveness than permission situation. I trusted them, and they knew what they were doing. I simply had to let go.
If I did, I’d be able to breathe a little easier and focus on the fun things, like developing delicious new ice cream flavours.
And getting to know Owen.
“We should finish getting clean,” Owen said, his lips half-pressed against mine, our breath mingling between us.
“Mmm, we should.”
“Problem is, I like kissing you too much.”
I smiled and nudged his nose with mine as my heart bounced. “I have the same problem.”
We kept kissing as the water ran over us, our hands slowly roaming across each other. There wasn’t any urgency, we were simply kissing for the sake of it. I could have done it for hours.
Eventually, Owen did pull back and insist we get out, and I agreed because I was starting to get hungry. We washed together, giggling as we tried to squeeze past each other in the bath so we could fit under the water. It definitely wasn’t big enough for two grown men, but somehow, we made it work.
We got dressed in my room, Owen pulling some clean underwear, shorts, and a T-shirt out of his backpack while I found my normal shirt and jeans. I’d half buttoned the shirt up when I paused and looked down at myself. The shirts always looked nice, but it wasn’t the most practical piece of clothing for the kitchen.
Maybe it was time for a change.
I unbuttoned it and slid it over my shoulders, putting it back on the hanger before reaching for a loose, white T-shirt.
“What do you think?” I asked Owen as I looked at myself in the mirror. It looked good—casual but still nice.
Classic.
Timeless.
Sexy.
None of which were necessary for my job, but fuck it, I wanted to look good.
“I like it,” he said, putting his arm around my waist and kissing the side of my head. “It suits you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Looks sexy too.” He winked at me and I laughed. But I couldn’t disagree. Because I wanted him to think that.
“Like you in your shorts,” I said, gesturing to the cargo shorts he was wearing. Owen grinned and put one hand in a pocket.
“Exactly. And now you can’t ban my shorts, or I’ll have to ban that T-shirt.”
“Just this one?”
“Maybe all of them. How many have you got?”
I thought for a second. “Probably not enough. If I want to wear them more often, I might need to get some extras.” I tended to prefer more of a capsule wardrobe for practicality, so I didn’t have a lot of T-shirts. Especially not ones I’d be happy wearing in the kitchen.
There were a few places in town I could get more, or there was a big Tesco Extra on the edge of town, which had a large clothing section I could raid for some cheap ones. If not, I could order some online.
Maybe it would finally be worth looking into getting some branded T-shirts for the shop. Then we’d all match and it would save everyone a lot of hassle and money, since nobody would have to buy their own work clothes. And we could probably get tank tops for Owen, and hoodies for the winter too. We might even be able to get ridiculous shirts for Milo, although maybe this would be an opportunity to finally move him away from them.
“What’re you thinking?” Owen asked, kissing me again.
