Page 12 of This Time Around (The Can’t Have Hearts Club #3)

A llie stared into the cardboard box, hardly believing her eyes. She started to reach inside, then yanked her hand back. Did she really want to touch it?

“Allie? What is it?”

She turned and looked at Jack, then shook her head. “Nothing. Just some old clothes my grandma wore when I was a little girl. I hadn’t seen them for years, so it caught me by surprise.”

Good, that was a good lie. Close enough to the truth that he wouldn’t feel the need to investigate.

Either her lying skills had slipped over the years or Jack had gotten better at recognizing them, because the next thing she knew, he was striding across the attic toward her.

Allie hurried to push the box flaps closed.

Maybe she’d get lucky and he’d slip off the rafter he was balancing on and go crashing through the ceiling below.

She didn’t want him hurt. Just distracted enough not to ask more questions.

Allie pivoted and pointed to the old steamer trunk near the window.

“Let’s see if we can get into that trunk.

It looks pretty old.” She kept her back to the pile of boxes, feeling the contents burning through her spine.

“You know, I think that’s the same trunk I hit my head on when I was six or seven.

Bled all over the place. It used to be in one of the bedrooms downstairs, so maybe the keys are still?—”

“Allie.”

“What?”

“What’s in that box?”

“What box?”

“The one behind you.”

She tossed her hair, doing her best to look casual. “Like I said, just some old clothes I remember Grandma wearing when?—”

“You’re full of it.”

He was close enough now to touch her, close enough that she saw flecks of silver in those pale blue eyes. Obviously she wasn’t fooling him, so she dropped her hands to her sides with a sigh. She turned around and peered at the box.

The flaps had sprung open again like the world’s most terrifying jack-in-the-box. They both stared into it for a good long time before either of them spoke.

It was Jack who broke the silence. “Old clothes your grandma used to wear, huh?”

“Right.”

He reached into the box and pulled out the first item. “Funny, I don’t remember your grandmother wearing a crotchless mesh bodysuit at Thanksgiving dinner.”

Allie felt the heat creep into her cheeks. “I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation.”

“Sure there is.” He set the bodysuit down and reached into the box again, this time pulling out a froth of black and white satin and lace. “It gave her something to wear when the French maid costume was being cleaned.”

“I really don’t think?—”

“Hey, check this out.” He’d pried the box all the way open and was poking around, not picking anything up this time, thank God. “Looks like Grandma liked ball gags. And anal beads. And leather paddles with embedded spikes. And?—”

“Please stop touching things.” Allie swatted his hand off the edge of the box, but Jack reached in with the other and picked up something that looked like a riding crop. He turned it over in his hands with a look of fascination mixed with amusement.

Allie cringed. “I’m sure it couldn’t belong to my grandmother.”

“Was her middle name Elizabeth?”

“No, it was Elena. Why?”

Jack flipped the riding crop over and held it out so she could read the VER monogram on the end. “Either this belonged to her, or she was in the habit of storing sex toys for guests who shared her initials.”

“It was a very busy bed and breakfast at one time. I’m sure?—”

“Allie.”

“Yeah?”

“Cut the crap.”

She sighed and grabbed the riding crop out of his hand. “Good Lord.” She tried shoving it back in the box, but she must’ve had the angle wrong, because the flaps wouldn’t close. She gave up, letting the top spring open again. “I can’t believe this.”

“Believe it, babe. Grandma was kinky.”

She grimaced and closed her eyes. “Pardon me while I jot that down so I can include it in her obituary.”

Jack laughed. “I never would have guessed the woman who lectured us on living together before marriage had a treasure trove of BDSM gear in her attic.”

“Well, she always was very ... vivacious.”

“That’s one word for it.”

“She had this prim and proper side to her, but inside—” Allie shook her head, not sure whether to laugh or cry. “Did you know she married my grandfather on a bet?”

“I don’t think I heard that.”

Allie nodded, keeping her eyes averted from the box of sex toys. “She walked past a shop where he was working as an auto mechanic. He had a car torn up in a million pieces and she bet him he couldn’t have it put back together and running by the end of the week.”

“And he did it?”

“Yep. So she married him. They were together fifty-two years.”

Jack gave a low whistle. “So that’s the secret to a long, happy marriage, huh?”

“You mean a total lack of foresight and planning?”

He laughed. “Something like that.”

Allie glanced back at the box of sex toys. God, what was she going to do with all this?

Jack pointed at the mannequin behind her. “I thought that was for scuba diving,” he said. “Who knew they made crotchless latex bodysuits with a full hood?”

Allie was almost afraid to look, but she turned and stared at it anyway. Yep . The nipple tassels were a nice touch. She turned back to Jack. “You can’t tell anyone about this.”

He quirked an eyebrow at her. “There go my plans to invite CNN for a tour of your grandma’s attic.”

“I’m serious, Jack. She’d die if—” She stopped there, closing her eyes. “I can’t believe I just said that.” She opened her eyes again and took in the mannequin, the box, the dozens of other boxes she was afraid to open now. “This is so—so?—”

“Enlightening?”

“Not the word I was looking for.” She chewed on her bottom lip. “I just never imagined this side of my grandmother.”

“It’s not a big deal, Al. Everyone has sex. Some just have different tastes.” He took a step closer and lowered his voice. “As I recall, you used to like me tying you to the headboard with silk scarves.”

Allie felt the heat creeping into her cheeks. “That’s different. My grandma?—”

“Was a sexual person, too. When did your grandpa die?”

“Eight years ago. A few years after that, Grandma introduced us to her special friend, a man named Albert.”

“Albert?”

“He asked us to call him Axl. His family owns a vineyard near Newberg, I think.”

“Good planning on your grandma’s part. She did love her wine.”

Allie glanced back at the boxes and grimaced. “We thought they were just playing mah-jongg together.”

“I don’t know what mah-jongg is, but if it requires anal beads, you were right.”

“Ugh.” She covered her face with her hands. “I can’t unsee this.”

Jack laughed and pried her fingers away from her eyes.

He didn’t let go of her left hand right away, and Allie felt his touch like a brand.

“I know it’s not the image you had in your mind for your grandma,” he said, “but I think it’s kind of cool.

Isn’t it at least a little exciting to know she had a happy, healthy sex life? ”

Allie frowned at him, but said nothing. He probably had a point, but she’d prefer not to think about it.

“Maybe it needs to sink in a little more.” Jack glanced at the mannequin, then looked away quickly. “On second thought, maybe you’re better off not giving this too much thought.”

Allie waved a defeated hand around the attic. “I was planning to go through all these boxes to see what I might be able to sell to pay the back taxes on this place. Now I’m afraid to open anything else.”

“Just a hunch, but I don’t think the going rate on used bondage equipment is all that high.”

She rolled her eyes. “Seriously, what am I going to do?”

“Look, odds are pretty slim she had two hundred boxes of sex toys. Just pick another one. You’re bound to find something useful. Just keep poking around.”

“Poking around,” she muttered, trying not to think about any poking around her grandmother’s gentlemen callers might have done. “Okay.”

Jack let go of her hand, and Allie tried not to feel disappointed. She stepped away from the stack of boxes, relieved to put a little distance between herself and the creepy bondage mannequin.

And Jack, come to think of it. Having him this close, this big and strong and solid beside her kept reminding her how long it had been since anyone besides prison guards had run their hands over her body.

He still smelled good, dammit. He’d never worn cologne, and she didn’t think he was wearing any now.

But he’d always had a certain aura about him.

God, that sounded so cheesy when she thought of it like that, but it was true.

He smelled like the Oregon desert after a thunderstorm, earthy ozone and damp sage, and if she kept standing next to him, she’d probably say or do something stupid.

He was already pawing through another stack of boxes on the other side of the mannequin, so Allie used the chance to slip over toward the steamer trunk.

“This one’s not so bad,” he called. “Looks like a bunch of old magazines. Home and garden stuff, not porn, in case you’re wondering.”

“Thanks for the report.”

She knelt in front of the trunk. It was definitely the same one her grandma used to keep in the blue bedroom on the south side of the house.

She remembered trailing her hand over the top of it as a little girl, the bumps and ridges like a topographical map under her fingers.

She’d never paid attention to the lock on it before, and had just assumed it required a key.

Studying it now, she realized it was a combination lock.

She thought about asking Jack if he had a lock-picking kit in his tool belt, but right now she needed a little space between her hormones and Jack’s tool belt.