Wren
Only one photo this time,but it was a doozy. Wren from the waist up, lying back against a pile of pillows, lazy smile on her face, eyes at half-mast. She wore a gauzy top that plainly showed a lacy bra underneath, the same emerald color as the panties.
And again, at the bottom of the envelope he found a tissue paper-wrapped bundle. Elias admired the bra before placing it on his dresser beside the pair of panties.
Then he got to work on a reply.
Dear Clothesnapper,
I have received the second hostage and taken it into custody. They are resting comfortably in an undisclosed location until
“Until I can get you back into them,” he said out loud.
an agreement is met tomorrow. Unless you’re busy stealing someone else’s clothing (and I hope you aren’t) feel free to come earlier than 10:00. Breakfast is at 8:00, just saying.
Yours. Just yours,
Elias
FIFTEEN
Wren bounced on the balls of her feet with anticipation as she read Elias’ email on her phone for the hundredth time.
Yours. Just yours.
Every time she thought the words, her heart thumped extra hard and her tummy grew warm. Over the past few days she’d had so much fun setting up and photographing his clothes—and even more fun photographing herself. Each time she stood in her makeshift darkroom—the spare bedroom in the townhome she was renting—developing the photos, she imagined the look on his face when he pulled them out of the envelopes.
I’m head over heels. Not even two weeks, and I’m absolutely smitten.
I love him.
Wren bit her lower lip, fighting back the anxiety that shouted it was too soon for love, that she was heading for one more heartbreak, one more good thing that wouldn’t last.
She glanced at the time on her phone. 7:40 AM, time to go if she wanted to get to Elias’ for breakfast. She took a deep breath.
“All right, you mean little voice. I don’t care if it’s been eleven days, or eleven months, or eleven years—I do love him. I don’t know if he loves me back, but it doesn’t matter. I’m taking thechance.” She wrapped her arms around her torso. “He’s worth it. He’s worth the broken heart if I lose him, as long as I can have just a little more time with him.”
Her phone buzzed with an incoming text, making her jump.
She looked at the screen.
You at the Lion’s Lair yet?
Wren grinned at Barbie’s message. Last night, she’d filled her bestie in on everything that had happened since the last time they talked. She hit Barbie’s contact button.
“I’m on my way out the door,” she said as soon as Barbie picked up. She grabbed her tote and dug out her key ring.
“Truth, or are you just saying that?”
“Truth.” She held up her phone with one hand and jangled her keys with the other. “Hear that? That’s my car keys.” She tucked her phone in the crook of her neck.
“I was afraid you were going to play it like you always do and back off.”
“Not this time.” Wren opened the door from her kitchen to her garage.
“Good! I’m proud of you, Wrenbird.”
Wren got into her car. “I’m proud of me, too.” She hit the garage door button to open it, started her car, and backed out.
