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The silly face emoji after her question made me laugh. I’d spent no more than an hour with Wrenley, yet I missed her like crazy. But it had been a great opportunity to get to know each other, something I was sure we would have done less of if she were in town. We’d have been spending most of our time with our mouths otherwise occupied…screaming, for example.
However, my question about her favorite color had been for more than just my need to know absolutely everything about her.
Me:For your dress.
Wife-to-be:Oh. That’s really sweet, Jordan, but don’t go to too much trouble. The color doesn’t matter.
Of course it did. I wanted her to love her dress, not only so she felt beautiful, but because it would always be a reminder of our first date. I also requested that the designer make the dress easy to come off. But Wrenley didn’t need to know that.
Me:That’s for me to decide, baby. Now, what color?
Wife-to-be:Purple.
Perfect.I shot an email off to the designer, then closed my laptop and stood from my desk. Clay was out, so I opened a drawer and pulled out a glossy magazine. If he knew I was hiding a copy ofSuits and Stilettos, he’d give me endless shit about it. But it wasn’t the book itself that was the reason for secreting it away. It was because I wasn’t ready to share. There was a spread on a new fashion line for curvy women, and Wrenley was one of the models. It didn’t matter that she was wearing suits, jeans, and sweaters, I didn’t want him ogling my girl.
Taking the magazine and my phone with me, I grabbed a beer from the fridge and wandered out to the living room. I plopped down on the couch and took a swig of my drink before setting it on the end table, then I swung my feet up and stretched out on the cushions.
I stared at my favorite picture of my girl for a few minutes before the need to talk to her had me picking up my phone and sending her a text.
Me:Favorite fruit?
Wife-to-be:Pineapple. You?
Me:Strawberries.
Me:Any tattoos?
Wife-to-be:No. I’ve thought about it, though.
Interesting…
Me:Favorite hobby?
Wife-to-be:I did a lot of photography in high school and really loved it. My parents even saved up to buy me a brand-new camera for graduation. But I’ve been too busy to keep up with it since then, so it’s been sitting on a shelf for the last year.
My fingers hovered over the keys as I absorbed what she’d said. Since Wrenley worked at Daniel, I had assumed she was at least in her early twenties. But technically, she could be under twenty-one since she was only a hostess. If I was reading her text right, the gap between our ages was a lot bigger than I’d assumed.
I decided not to beat around the bush.
Me:How old are you, Wrenley?
Three dots hovered, then disappeared, then hovered again.
Wife-to-be:I turned 19 a couple of months ago.
Well, shit.I was nine fucking years older than her. Was she too young for me? I dismissed the thought as soon as it flitted through my brain. I could be twice her age and still wouldn’t give her up.
Me:Favorite movie?
Neither of us brought our ages up again.
* * *
Three weeks.
Wrenley would be home in three damn weeks.
After spending the last couple of days getting to know her, I wanted to be with her more and more every day. Three weeks seemed like an eternity. We’d texted for a while, but then we’d graduated to phone calls, and I’d loved hearing her husky bedroom voice every day. Even if it did mean waking up every night with a rock-hard, aching cock and covered in sweat.
