Page 14 of Barefoot Dreams
He’ll come around when he needs to.
Maybe I’ll bring him some plants in the meantime. Lavender! Yes, I’ll do that! Plants always make everything so much better.
“How did the work out go?” I ask, distracting myself.
“Invigorating.” Fanny Lovsil, the owner of Tough Love gym and one of the most loyal members of the Love Hive organization, answers instead of Jacob. “I do love to start my mornings by exercising my eyes.” She winks at my friend who always plays along with grandmas trying to go all cougar on him.
“Fanny, when are you finally going to relent and just say yes to me?” Jacob sighs theatrically.
“Psh, you might be a big boy, but I’m a lot of woman to love. You won’t be able to handle me.” She winks and saunters over to the counter for her usual order of tonic.
Jacob throws his arms up, calling after her. “There you go, breaking my fragile heart all over again.”
“This will never get old for you, will it?” I lift an eyebrow at my giant friend.
“Never,” he answers adamantly. “I’ll wear her down one of these days.”
“You are ridiculous.” I chuckle, smacking his chest. “Go, get in line for your fix.”
Jacob fake groans. “All these years, and I still don’t get preferential treatment here. What good is it being your best friend?”
“I have no idea. You are my first and only, and mind you, you came all by yourself.”
“Talk dirty to me, baby.” Jacob flashes us all with his twelve-year-old sense of humor.
“So ridiculous,” I holler, but there’s no mistaking the smile in my voice. There’s no one like this guy and I cannot wait for the day someone manages to steal his heart. The girl might get a monument for such achievement over here.
A few customers later Jacob appears in front of me again, holding out his card. “Surprise me.” I take his payment and decide today he’ll have my new ruby chocolate matcha recipe infused with lavender. The guy never orders the same two things in a row, and he always prefers for me to do it for him. I don’t mind one bit since he serves as my tester more often than not.
“Are you coming out to bonfire tonight?” he asks, and I let out a small sigh.
“I wish, but I already have plans.”
“Is it an appointment with a proctologist?”
“What? No! I have a date.”
Jacob shrugs. “The level of your enthusiasm reached something along the lines of proctologist appointment.”
“I promise I want to go out. It’s just…does it have to be a car show in Santa Cruz?”
“That’swhere he’s taking you?” Jacob deadpans, a small furrow creasing his forehead. “Ew.”
“I know,” I whisper-shout. “But I promised I’ll give it a try after he did yoga with me.”
“Yeah, fine. I guess that’s fair,” Jacob relents, taking his drink from my outstretched hands and leans over to kiss my cheek. “Thanks, friend. Have fun tonight.”
“I’ll try my best,” I mutter, not feeling an ounce of excitement that I felt just last night when I agreed to it.
The morning rush has dwindled, leaving my employee, Lia, to serve whoever wanders in before lunch. I slip to the back, pushing the old, wooden door that opened up to a beautiful—almost Mediterranean looking—stone staircase that leads to my apartment above the shop. Naturally, I painted every step in different, vibrant colors.
My little place is all I’ve ever dreamed of. It’s a small one bedroom with a tiny bathroom but has the quaintest kitchen with a floor to ceiling window that led to a tiny patio, overlooking the mighty ocean, stretching for miles and miles across the mountain shores more than makes up for it. Plus, I’ve never needed much, it’s something Jacob and I have in common since he lives in an actual tiny house himself. So, when the time came to remodeling, he helped me make this space very functional yet magical with all the hanging plants in every spare corner and shelves made of reclaimed wood.
After all, that was my promise to Mrs. Lovzel all those years ago.
One day, I hoped I’d have a house somewhere with lots of land around me to plant all the vegetables, fruits, and flowers my heart desired. I’ve always imagined it as a place for a family. One of my own, with a loving husband and wild untamed kids running around barefoot. Only that dream seemed to be farther and farther away each day.
I prop the kitchen window open, letting some ocean air in as I take out a handmade cup—product of yours truly—and pour myself a dose of a new brew I’ve been trying out. I jump up onto my butcher block-style island that also serves as my dining room table and, more often than not, my chair.
