The Right Bed?: Your Bed or Mine?

But when Caley opened the trunk, she found it filled with bundles of letters and greeting cards, old gramophone records and books. She pulled out one of the books and flipped through it. “It’s a journal,” she said. She grabbed a bigger book and found photographs inside. Caley handed it to Jake, then glanced around the attic. “Is there a gramophone up here?”

Jake scanned the room with the flashlight, letting it come to rest on a covered silhouette on a table. “I think that’s it. Can we look for my doors?”

“This is more interesting than your doors,” she said. Caley pointed to the far wall. “Is that them?”

Jake grinned. “I think so. Come on, let’s see if we can get them downstairs.”

“Forget the doors right now.” She walked around the chest. “If you pick up that end, I bet we could get it downstairs.”

They wrestled the trunk to the stairway and maneuvered it around the old wooden banister. But as they began to take it down the steep stairs, Caley lost her grip. The leather handle had deteriorated with age and it broke; the trunk slammed down on her toes.

“Ow! Oh, that hurts. Pull it down.”

Jake let the trunk slide to the bottom of the stairs, then climbed up to where she stood. “What’s wrong?”

“It smashed my toe. Ow.” Her eyes watered and she wriggled on her good foot, afraid to put weight on the other.

Jake stared at the toe of her boot with the flashlight, then cursed softly. “Come on. I think I have some first-aid stuff in the kitchen.”

He helped her down the stairs, Caley limping and wincing against the pain. Then Jake scooped her up in his arms and carried her the rest of the way, setting her down on the counter in the kitchen. “I’d forgotten what a klutz you could be.”

“I’m not,” she said. “I’m very graceful.”

“I remember the time you were walking down the dock in that little flowered dress and those high-heeled shoes.” He pulled off her boot and tossed it aside. “You got your heel caught in between the boards and went over the edge into the water. I had to jump in and fish you out.”

“I was mortified,” Caley said. “I wanted you to look at me and think I was hot. Instead, I looked like a drowned rat.”

“Maybe so, but when that dress got wet, you could see right through it. And you weren’t wearing a bra. I did think you looked really hot.”

She pulled her foot out of his hand and tugged off her sock. Her toenail had already begun to turn black. “Kiss it,” she said, wiggling her toes in front of him.

Jake smiled, taking her foot in his hand and slowly massaging it. “Will that make it feel better?”

“Maybe. I’ve always wanted you to kiss my feet,” she said, daring him to do as she asked.

Jake knelt down in front of her and pressed his lips to her ankle. It didn’t take long for Caley to realize that he was turning her little game into a full-out seduction. He kissed each toe, then ran his tongue along her instep.

When he began to suck on her toes, Caley closed her eyes and leaned back. No man had ever done this for her. She hadn’t realized that the foot was an erogenous zone. “Oh,” she said.

“Do you like that?” he asked.

“Yes,” she murmured.

“Does it feel better?”

Caley nodded. “Much.”

Jake stood and ran his thumb along her lower lip. He bent close and kissed her. “Is there anything else that hurts?”

“Are you trying to seduce me?” she asked.

“Maybe. Do you want to be seduced?”

“Yes,” Caley said with a smile. “See, isn’t that easy? Just think of what might have happened if you’d said yes the first time I asked.”

“I was tempted,” he said, pulling her hand up to kiss her palm. “So tempted. You looked so beautiful that night. You were wearing that little lace blouse with blue flowers on the collar.”

“You remember that?”

“I remember everything about that night. For the next five years, I’d sit on that spot on the beach and wonder if I’d ever get a chance again.”

“I guess you did,” Caley said.

“I just assumed you’d always be around. When you didn’t come back that next summer, I thought I’d messed up bad. Now that I have you again, it’s going to be hard to let you go.”

It was as close to a profession of love as Jake had ever come and the sentiment made her heart ache. When she was young, she used to read all sorts of meanings into the words he spoke to her. But his meaning was clear now. The only problem was, Caley wasn’t sure what she could do about it.

“I’ve got a sleeping bag in the back of my truck. We could put it in front of the fireplace. It’s almost as good as a bed.”

“I’ll meet you there,” Caley said. As he walked out of the room, she drew a deep breath. “I’m not going to be able to let you go, either,” she murmured.

JAKE STOOD IN THE DOORWAY of the great room, his hands braced on the doorjamb. Caley sat in front of a crackling fire, her naked body wrapped in the sleeping bag. They’d made love twice in front of the fire, first with a frantic passion and then later slowly and playfully, the two of them teasing each other to completion.

The day was entirely theirs now that the wedding had been put on hold. Jake had felt so bad about her toe that he’d gone upstairs to retrieve the photo album and a few packets of letters from the trunk.

Though they’d enjoyed the sexual chemistry between them, the connection that afternoon had been more emotional than physical. Every time he looked at her, Jake realized how special she was. She was smart and funny. And she challenged him, forcing him to see her in a different light. She’d stolen a piece of his heart a long time ago and now Jake was certain that he never wanted it back. As long as Caley cared for him, he’d be a happy man.

“Are you warm enough?” he asked.

She turned and smiled, the light from the fire illuminating her pretty features. “I am. Come and look at this. I found a photo of the summer kitchen.”

Jake crossed the room and squatted down next to her, taking the photo from her fingers. “Look at that stove. No wonder they had to put the kitchen in a separate building. One spark from that and this whole place would have been kindling.” He stared at the ceiling. “I should probably put some kind of sprinkler system in here. I wouldn’t want this place to burn down before I had a chance to pay for it.”

“You should really send this stuff back to the family,” she said.

“I don’t think the owner realized there was anything left in the attic. I think I’ll make an inventory and then see what she wants me to send back to her.”

“What is her first name?” Caley asked. “Is it Arlene?”

“Yeah,” Jake said.

“I’ve been reading these letters. They’re from a boy she met at a summer dance. They had a romance. He was from town. And she lived in Chicago. It looks like they wrote to each other for years.” Caley frowned. “There are some here from when he was in the war. And then they just stop. Are there more letters in the trunk?”

“I can go look,” Jake said.

“You don’t think he died, do you?”

“No,” Jake said. “They’re probably still in the trunk. I’ll go get them.”