Page 6 of My Dreamy Holidate

A love ballad pours out of my soul as my voice harmonizes with the guitar. My heart jumps as my stomach flutters, longing and devotion releasing from me.The second verse bellows from me.

My heart beat strong again,

When I saw your eyes in a dream.

Don’t know if it’s karma or a sign…

But I know you’re meant to be mine.

Take me with your charms, now I’m near.

Take me in your arms, honey, I’m here.

My heart is yours. My heart is yours.

I’ve never sung this song before, but it constantly plays out in my dreams. And I finally caught the magic and brought it to the real world, to life. The last note fades from my lips after the guitar string ends the note.

I slowly open my eyes and gaze down at my hands. This is the moment I know. I need to do this for myself. I need to sing again.

The doorbell rings, and I jump. Lindy walks in like she always does.

“Keep going! That was beautiful. Is it something popular?”

I shrug. “Not unless someone’s in my head.”

Someone is most certainly in my head. Twenty-four seven.

“Wait, that is yours?” She stills with only one arm out of her denim jacket.

It’s so much more than mine or another artist’s. It’s what poured out of me. But who else could claim it? I don’t think I’ve ever heard it before. I’ll check, but I’m pretty sure it’s original.

“I guess it is.”

A huge smile plays on my best friend’s perfectly sculpted painted lips. “Then, girl, you need to record that and get it out there. It’ll make a killing.”

I laugh at her enthusiasm.

“Okay, but some other time. I need to get dressed.”

“For?”

I coyly walk by her in the direction of my room. “Oh, just for a second date with Dr. Walker. That’s all.”

Even his name rolling off my lips has the zings and zaps pulsing through my body. As if he is touching me right now. I shiver.

I’m in so much trouble.

Lindy jumps and screams out, “Yes, let’s get you dressed! Stat!”

I chuckle. She’s watched one too many medical shows.

4

Riggs

I finish the dishes and clean up the counters, so it doesn’t look like a cyclone invaded my kitchen.

Cooking isn’t my forte, but I can make a mean breakfast, so BFD–breakfast for dinner–it is.

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