Page 10 of Barefoot Dreams
But now the building is no longer abandoned. It looks to be freshly painted in a bright yellow color with those crawling type of roses covering each side of the entrance and wrapping around the sign at the top. The one that reads, Sip of Love.
A coffee shop, maybe? I could definitely use some of that after the night I had. I cross the street and open the funky front door. It isn’t glass like I thought it was, looking across the street. The material seems to be like recycled plastic, but is thick and sturdy.
The windows off to each side of the entrance looks to be made of the same stuff, and underneath them more colorful flowers stick out from the overflowing boxes.
As soon as I enter, a sweet aroma fills my nose. It isn’t your usual scent of a coffee shop but somehow it smells even better. Slightly tart, fruity, and very fresh. It’s like an early summer day or a late spring day. And…cherries. It smells like cherries. The scent is infused into the walls here.
Speaking of which, they are covered in all kinds of flower art. And I mean actual dried flowers put together into elaborate art pieces that fit right in. The tables and booth are made from wood, but once again, it looks to be a recycled type of material.
It’s beautiful—stained in different shades of brown and each table carried a vase with fresh red and orange flowers in them. Those same vibrant colors I tend to steer clear off.
I’m so caught up gawking at the breathtaking interior, I don’t see how long the line to the counter is.
It looks like everyone who isn’t at the work out is here. And then I glance up at the black chalkboard menu on top and sigh.
I knew it was too good to be true.
Mushroom coffee, mud water, matcha, balance tonics, and a bunch of weird vitamin-protein-electrolyte shakes are written all over the board. The most normal option on there is herbal tea. Excuse me—handpicked with loveherbal tea.
I might be embracing my hometown now, but I’m not that far gone yet. Dejected, I’m about to turn around and head out when a flash of golden orange catches my eye. The painstakingly familiar shade of orange.
Is that—I take a step to the left out of line to get a better look, and sure enough—a young woman with a gorgeous deep shade of red hair stands behind the counter. Her back is to me as she’s making a drink and I can’t see her face, but the view from the back has my heart picking up its tempo.
She’s wearing her wavy hair half up-half down, the up part in a small braid sliding down the rest. A simple, skin-molding white T-shirt is visible beneath her light-colored denim short overallsthat somehow look sexy as hell. Especially with the way the bottom part sits very snugly around her ass.
She’s painfully, familiarly gorgeous from the back. Her figure with just enough to hold onto and I find myself standing there, unblinking with only two words on my mind.
Turn around. Turn around. Turn around.
I need to see her face.
It’s just a second…her body makes the move to turn…
I suck in a sharp breath…and then…fuck me.
“Birdy?”
2
Griffin
“To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves.” – Federico García Lorca
Her whole body freezes—the cup she’s passing to a customer hanging halfway in midair—while her eyes slowly, so very slowly, lift up to the sound of my voice and I feel like I’m back at training camp when one of the guys punched me in the stomach so hard I saw stars. And the sunrise, and the fire burning, and the birds flying freely across the blue, carefree skies.
I am seeing the stars again, only this time they are sparkling green, like the grass in the morning light. The early rays of sunshine glinting off the beads of clear dew.
I haven’t seen those fairy-like eyes in so long, I almost forgot how powerful they are. I almost forgot how warm and shiny every strand of her fiery hair is—like pure sunshine.
Almost. But not quite.
But everything else is different… From those more prominent curves to the air of adulthood around her.
When did Callum’s little sister stop being…well, little.
“Griffin?” she asks, her voice barely audible over the coffee shop chatter—or maybe it’s because my head is too busy buzzing with thoughts I shouldn’t be having. “Is that you?” Those pretty green eyes flare. Growing bigger and wider as recognition sets in them.
“Yeah, it’s—” The words come out a little scratchy, so I clear my throat as one of my hands rubbed the back of my neck. It’s a nervous habit I thought I got rid of but here we are. “It’s me.”
