ierra is playing old ’80s tunes, and both of us have no trouble singing along. I'm sure it's one of the telltale signs of being raised by a single parent, and I think we both have happy memories associated with the previous generation's music. I'm searching the Internet for a breakfast place past New York City other than what we can find at a rest stop.
"Hey, this place looks good. Julie's Diner, and it's only a couple miles out of our way." I click on the menu.
"I want a huge stack of pancakes and a pot full of coffee." Sierra's purple fingernails are tapping on the wheel to the beat of a Queen song.
"Not me, I'm craving an omelet and lots of bacon." My mouth salivates. "According to the menu, they have all we need. Get off at exit 38 in Connecticut and wake me then. I'm going to try to nap."
Sierra turns the music down. "Want me to plug in?"
"Naw, these songs make me think of my dad. I shouldn't have any trouble sleeping. Thanks, though." Plastic creaks as I lower the back of my seat and snuggle in to doze off.
----
T he water is cool , but I don't mind. Hot, sweaty, and dusty, I couldn't wait to strip off my clothes and dive in. My hair feels like silk swirling around my shoulders, and the sensation of nothing but liquid against my skin is titillating. So much so I'm a little turned on, and it's a shame I'm alone.
As if my thoughts conjured him, I notice the green-eyed guy standing on the shore. In a tight tee and jeans, he looks as filthy as I was. He's hot too. And I mean that in every sense of the word. His dark blond hair is in need of a good cut. A couple days’ worth of stubble is on his face, and those ruby-red lips beg to be bitten.
Treading water, I stare at him as if I'm daring him to join me. I kind of am, but I’m not brazen enough to speak my thoughts. I don't have to because he's pulling his shirt over his head. Muscles ripple along his chest and arms, and I resist the urge to reach between my legs and touch myself.
I almost hear his button pop open from the strain of his huge erection when he begins to take off his jeans. His deep laugh booms across the quarry to me when he realizes his boots are still on and he can't remove his pants after all.
He bends down to unlace them, and I wish he wasn't facing me so I could ogle his perfect ass. He says, "Carly, love, I'll be there in a moment."
I lick my lips because if he's getting naked to swim with me, then I'm in for a treat. I'm also flattered by the nickname. Being called love makes me feel special.
I call back to him, "I've been waiting for you all my life. What's a few more seconds?"
"Carly." Sierra's voice wakes me.
I snarl at the intrusion. Whoa, it was only a dream. “What?"
"I just pulled off the highway and need to know where to go for breakfast."
"Oh." I blink in the bright morning light and focus on figuring out what she's asking. Directions. My phone. I reach in my back pocket and push a button to turn it on. The map comes up when I tap the Internet icon. "A mile on this road and then turn right on Main Street. It's another mile or so down on the left."
"Good, I'm so hungry."
Yeah, me too, but not for food. I rack my brain trying to remember my dream. The only thing I can recall is the desire to touch the fine body of the Amazon-sized man who stripped for me. I let out a big sigh.
"What's the matter?" Sierra has flipped the blinker, and it ticks steadily.
"Nothing. I had another dream, and I was trying to place where I was. Unfortunately the star of said dream was stripping off his clothes, and my focus was on him."
She chuckles. "I hate it when that happens."
I grin. "Yeah, I shouldn't complain."
Sierra turns the car smoothly, and the engine whines as she accelerates. "I don't think we need to worry. It's clear someone, or something, wants us in Maine, and I think they'll make sure we know how to get there."
"I suppose, but not knowing is driving me crazy." I finger-comb my hair in an effort to be presentable.
“What