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.
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.
