Snowflakes at Lavender Bay. Sarah Bennett

wink at Libby, Owen retreated to the door, clutching his drink and the large paper parcel. He didn’t go far, though. A lamppost hung above the railing running along the promenade directly opposite the shop window. Owen perched on the top rail beneath the bright light, unwrapped his meal and set it on his lap, and waited.

      The chips were hot, crispy on the outside, and fluffy on the inside. In other words, perfect. Picking his way through the mountain of food, he watched Libby puttering around behind the counter, serving the next few customers. All smiles, there wasn’t a hint of the animosity she showed him, not even towards a group of noisy lads who spilled through the door clearly a little worse for wear. As they staggered out, clutching their food and laughing, her gaze followed them as they crossed in front of Owen’s position. Any second now…

      Libby froze, jaw gaping and he couldn’t resist giving her a jaunty wave with the chip in his hand. He could almost see steam pouring from her ears as she very deliberately turned her back. Satisfied, he turned his attention to the melt-in-the-mouth fish and didn’t look up again until he’d finished every last morsel. It was enough that she knew he was out there. If he was a betting man, he would’ve taken any odds that she wouldn’t be able to resist watching him, and sure enough he caught a flurry of her white coat turning away the moment he raised his head.

      Having crumpled up his empty paper, he drained the last of his can of drink then hopped down from the railing. A bin sat outside the chip shop, so he crossed the promenade to deposit his rubbish. The shop was empty of customers, and there was no sign of Mick, only Libby making a huge performance of spraying and wiping down the front of the counter. Waiting until she glanced over her shoulder, Owen gave her a little wave then strolled back to retake his position on the top railing. A quick check of his watch told him last orders in the pub had come and gone. He scanned the prom in both directions. Apart from a couple walking their dog, it was pretty much deserted. Not much longer to wait.

      Resting his elbows on his knees, Owen watched as Libby flipped the closed sign and slid the top bolt home before disappearing out of view. The lights went out, and he waited, eyes straining for any hint of movement inside. After ten fruitless minutes, he slipped down from the railing with a sigh. He’d been so sure she wouldn’t be able to resist coming out to speak to him—even if it was only to tell him to sod off. Ah well, Rome wasn’t built in a day, and spiky, intriguing little pixies weren’t easily tamed which was probably just as well.

      Tucking his hands in his pockets, Owen glanced up and down the promenade. Other than security lights mounted high on their walls, the businesses were all dark. He supposed he should return to the pub, but he wasn’t the least bit tired. Maybe a walk would help to ease the restlessness inside him. He’d made it maybe half a dozen paces when a soft snick came from behind him. Not wanting her to catch him smiling, he made sure his face was in the shadows before he turned around. ‘I thought you were going to leave me out here like a stray cat.’

      ‘It was tempting, but then I was worried you’d start yowling underneath my window or scent marking the steps.’ She’d swapped her white coat for a black cardigan hanging loosely off one shoulder to reveal the spaghetti straps of her vest top. Tempted by the soft material, he hitched it up then smoothed his fingers down her arm to tangle with her own. She flinched back. ‘Hey, keep your hands to yourself!’ She hauled the two sides of her cardigan around her body like a shield. ‘Do you think I’m so desperate I’ll fall into bed with any man, even one who doesn’t fancy me? That you can flash your smile and splash your cash, and the poor little country mouse will swoon at your feet? I might be desperate, but I’m not that desperate.’

      Owen felt his temper rise in response to her outrageous accusations. ‘Christ, you’re full of assumptions about me, aren’t you? Shame you’re wrong on every single one of them.’

      ‘Wrong? Don’t make me laugh. What was that all about in the shop earlier, making sure everyone heard that you’re investing in two different projects in the bay other than you showing off to all us poor locals? And then spending an hour hanging around outside my door pretending to flirt with me. What are you even doing here? Did you figure out I’ve got a stupid crush on you and decide to grit your teeth and make the best of it? It’s all the same in the dark, I suppose.’

      Moving before he knew what he was going to do, he grabbed her around the waist and hauled her against him. ‘Can’t you just be quiet for one minute?’ He mashed his lips down upon hers before she could spew forth any more accusations.

      Hands braced upon his chest, she shoved hard against his hold for a couple of seconds before her fingers curled up and over his shoulders to pull him closer. The stubborn moue of her lips softened beneath his to release a little gasp. Shifting his grip from her waist to her hips, her raised her higher up against his body until she hooked her legs around him, the weight of her boots thudding against the back of his thighs. His mouth still locked on hers, he took a couple of staggering steps until he had her pinned against the shadowed wall of a nearby shop.

      The scent, feel and taste of her swam through his senses until nothing else existed. When he tested the seam of her lips with his tongue and she yielded for him with a hungry little noise, he feared his knees might give out from the desire spearing through him, and he kissed her like his life depended upon it. Her nails pricked his skin through the cotton of his T-shirt for a long moment before she released her grip to press once more against his chest. This time he let her ease him away.

      Gasping for breath, they stared at each other through the gloom. ‘But…but you don’t like me,’ Libby said, her tone full of bewilderment.

      ‘I don’t know what gave you that idea, but you’re wrong.’ He shifted his body where it notched between her thighs to prove just how wrong. ‘I like you plenty, Libby Stone.’

       Chapter 6

      Had it not been for Owen’s firm grip upon her waist, Libby might have melted into a puddle of goo right there on the promenade. Perhaps the town council would erect one of those little blue plaques on the wall to record the moment? It was here in the summer of 2018 that Libby Stone was relieved of her senses by a single kiss. Confusion wasn’t a comfortable state of mind. She liked things straightforward, to know where she stood in life. The sun rose in the east and set in the west, the tides followed the cycles of the moon, a seagull would always try and steal your chips, Owen Coburn was bad news wrapped in a very sexy package. All incontrovertible truths. Or so she’d thought. When he was being brash, she could tell herself she’d dodged a bullet, that her bruised feelings would heal soon enough. And then he showed up, flirted with her, kissed her until her head swam, even told her that he liked her.

      She couldn’t think straight, and it wasn’t just from his kisses which had been even better than all those fantasies she’d spun about him. Gripped with the sudden panic that perhaps she’d fallen asleep slumped over the counter in the chippy, she unhooked her arms from around his neck and gave herself a pinch. Nope, not asleep.

      ‘What on earth are you doing?’ Owen asked.

      ‘Just checking.’

      He laughed. The low rich sound vibrated through her threatening to turn her already liquid insides to mush. ‘You really aren’t like any other woman I’ve ever met.’ She stiffened and would’ve wriggled free of his hold had his mouth not grazed softly across her own. ‘Damn, you’re spikier than a hedgehog. That was a compliment, by the way,’ he murmured against her lips.

      She let herself melt against him once more as he traced his way from her lips to her throat in a series of butterfly soft kisses. ‘You really aren’t like any other man I’ve met either,’ she confessed.

      Owen raised his head and she found herself straining to read his expression in the near dark. ‘I’m not what you think I am, Libby. Everything I’ve got in life has been earned through my own sweat and determination. No one gave me a hand up, along the way. It’s taken me eighteen years to get from being a jobbing labourer to having my name above the door of