“I don’t know.” I shoved my hands into the deep pockets of my dress. “I’ve never experienced anything like this before. I’ve had plenty of dreams involving murder or mayhem, but these…” Staring off into the distance, I recalled the dreams. “We’re in this field of wildflowers, and I’m dressed in a long, loose dress. Bees are flitting from flower to flower, and the sky’s scattered with white, puffy clouds. He’s waiting for me at the top of a rise, and it’s like I can’t wait to be with him.” Another blush began to creep up my neck and into my face, and I stopped.
“Go on,” she prodded with anticipation, “what happens next?”
“Never mind,” I said, waving the images away. “Let’s just say for a witch and a psychic, these are pretty good dreams.”
She tapped a foot on the hard, cracked ground in annoyance. “Okay, if you’re not going to give me the details, at least tell me what this guy looks like.”
“He’s dressed in a white shirt, with billowing sleeves…” I paused. “You know like the ones pirates wear?”
Darci rolled her eyes. “Maybe you’ve checked in one too many romance novels and the cover art seeped into your sub-conscious.”
“Listen,” I said in a curt voice. “Do you want to know what he looks like or not?”
“Okay, okay,” she mumbled. “Sorry.”
“He’s blond, tall with wide shoulders, and his eyes are blue—an incredibly deep blue. As dark as sapphires. Eyes that just pull you in…” A softness stole over me as I imagined the man in my dreams. The way he made me feel, the way his arms…I shook myself out of my revelry, banishing the gooiness I felt inside. “That’s about it,” I commented, trying to put a hard edge back in my voice.
“Does he say anything?”
“No, he just smiles a lot.”
“Humph, I bet,” she said with a knowing glance.
I felt my cheeks bloom bright red.
“Okay,” she said, her eyes scanning the crowd. “Tall, blond—”,
“Yes, but,” I interjected swiftly before she jumped to conclusions, “he wasn’t the man arguing with Clair.”
“Okay, so blue eyes, wide shoulders.” Her eyes stopped. “How about the guy surrounded by all the women? He’s tall, has wide shoulders and blond hair, but I can’t tell if his eyes are blue. He’s wearing sunglasses.”
I spun around and followed her gaze to where it rested on a stranger.
The man Darci referred to wore dark navy jeans and a bright, white sport shirt. From the side view, he fit Darci’s description—built exactly like the stranger from my dreams, but I wouldn’t know at this distance without seeing his eyes.
Feeling my stare, his head moved in my direction and he removed his sunglasses. A slow smile spread across his face, and, as our eyes locked, my heart almost stopped.
It was him—literally the man of my dreams.