Living Hell (Lost and Found Book 2)

by Elizabeth Lynx

  “Oh my God! Aren’t you I.D.? I have followed you ever since you had the What The Hell vlog. My sister and I thought you were hilarious.”

  Combing the mess of hair out of my face, I saw the beautiful blond sit in the booth and scoot closer. Her hair was perfect, pulled back in a thick French braid. I bet hers wasn’t a wig.

  I noticed Tyler remained standing.

  The rest of yesterday wasn’t fun. The only thing we had to eat were cookies and muffins my interior designer had left me in a welcome basket.

  Tyler tried to sneak out to run to the store, but he didn’t even get off the property before a photographer appeared.

  Thankfully, even the paps had to sleep, so I got out this morning. I assumed Tyler had a chance too since he was gone when I woke.

  Babette waved for him to take a seat and with a groan, he did.

  “Would you like a little help?” the woman asked, pointing to my head. “I have to fix my mom’s wigs all the time. Her hairdressers all joke that I should have been a stylist to the stars.”

  Normally, if a stranger asked to help me, I’d refuse as I would assume they wanted something from me. But the wig was trying my patience. I peeled the fake hair off, careful not to pull off my wig cap.

  “What happened to your eye?” Tyler asked louder than I would have wanted.

  Glancing around, I saw a few people turn our way. Putting my hand up to my forehead, I covered my face. “It’s makeup. I poked my eye with my glasses.” I held up the offensive eye dagger without raising my head.

  “You wear glasses? Since when? I had no idea.”

  “No, I don’t. If you haven’t noticed, there are photographers everywhere. I need to hide.”

  “All set,” the woman said.

  Pulling the hair from her hands, I carefully positioned it on my head. She helped me adjust, added a little wig glue, and I hoped I looked almost normal.

  “Wow, with that thing on, you really do look like a different person. If it wasn’t tangled before, I never would have recognized you.”

  “Thank you for helping me.”

  “I’m Olivia by the way. Olivia Love. I work with Tyler. He’s the town vet.”

  I gazed over to his sparkling blue eyes. They were studying me but stopped at my hair.

  “That was another dream of yours, wasn’t it, Tyler?” I asked as I studied him right back.

  “Yes, and I almost gave it up.”

  I didn’t know that. I was about to ask him about it when Babette cut in.

  “Dr. Ferguson, I’m Babette Gotti, the other owner of the house.”

  “I’d say it was nice to meet you, but I don’t really like to share.”

  “That’s why I’m here. To discuss the house. It’s all yours, if you still want it,” Babette said to my amazement.

  EIGHT

  Tyler

  “ARE YOU SERIOUS—” IONA said before I reached over and covered her mouth with my hand.

  “Wonderful.” I felt bad I had to pin back Olivia in order to shut Iona up before she ruined this for me. “I guess this is goodbye, Babette. It’s been nice almost getting to know you.” I began to scoot out of the booth after removing my hand from Iona’s mouth.

  “Just a minute. You haven’t heard my conditions yet. Why don’t you order something and we can discuss this over lunch?”

  I froze. I may not know this woman, but I had a good idea she was smart. And intelligent people don’t just plop loads of money on a property one day and give it away for free two days later.

  I eased back and stared into Babette’s gray eyes. “What, exactly, are your conditions?” Debbie picked that moment to sidle up next to me. “Hey, Tyler, want your usual?”

  She slid a cup of coffee across the table to Babette. Nodding to the waitress, she lifted the coffee to her lips and her eyes widened in surprise.

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “Really? You not feeling well, darling?”

  I kept my eyes on Babette. “Yeah, something like that.” “And for you, Olivia?”

  “Hot chocolate, bacon, and a salad. Thank you, Debbie.”

  “Your apple fritters will be right up.” Debbie winked at Iona.

  Silence stretched across our table once Debbie left. It was the kind of quiet that set my nerves ablaze. When I woke this morning, for a fraction of a second, I was happy. Memories of buying the house had me giddy, but then I remembered that Iona was in the guest bedroom. She had tried to claim the master, but that wasn’t going to happen.

  The movers never showed yesterday and that added the cherry to the dumpster fire sundae that was my current state of being. I called the moving company and the two guys they sent had disappeared.

  “What a pleasant homecoming.” Iona didn’t bother to keep the sarcastic tone from her lips.

  “Oh, you’re from here? I had no idea. I moved here this year. I’m originally from Washington, DC.” Olivia smiled and did her best to break the tension. She was probably used to awkward silence since she was dating the grumpiest man to ever live—the sheep farmer, Carter Fitzwilliam.

  Babette turned her focus to Olivia. “How is your father since his heart attack?”

  “How did you know my father had a heart attack?”

  “Babette is my agent. The woman knows everyone.”

  “That’s not true, I.D., I’m not that familiar with the guy over there.” Babette lifted her hand and pointed to the guy sitting at the counter.

  “I am. That’s the guy who makes the coffee,” I added.

  “Well, I should go over and thank him. This is the best cup of coffee I have ever tasted outside of Morocco.” Her gray eyes slid back to me, sending another upsetting chill down my back.

  “He didn’t pour the coffee, he makes the coffee. Micaden is part owner of Fire Lake Coffee. A locally owned coffee company.”

  “Is that him? I’d never met him or his sister before. When Bea comes to visit next time, I’ll have to introduce her. She can’t get enough of that coffee,” Olivia said.

  “Uh, that’d be a waste of time. He doesn’t speak to anyone, except for Debbie and his sister, Chloe.”

  “I got Carter to be more social, I’m sure I can get him to—”

  I put my hand on Olivia’s shoulder to stop her. “Carter is like a social butterfly compared to Micaden. You can try, but I don’t think you’ll be happy with the results.”

  “Speaking of being happy with results . . . I think you will be quite pleased with my idea for giving you my home.”

  “My home. And I wasn’t talking about being pleased with the results; I was saying she wouldn’t . . . oh never mind. What are your conditions?”

  Every eye at the table turned to Babette. It seemed I wasn’t the only one concerned with her plan. I could only hope it was better than Iona’s plan of pretending we were in love. That was unbelievably bad. How could I fall for a woman in a day?

  “My conditions are that you two are planning to get married.”

  It was worse than Iona’s plan. No wonder Babette was her agent, they thought alike.

  “After one day, I fall in love and propose to her? You do realize how insane that sounds, right? Hate to state the obvious, Ms. Gotti, but this isn’t a Hollywood movie. That doesn’t happen in real life and it certainly doesn’t happen in a small town on the side of a mountain in Maine.”

  Hollywood was like a parasite. Whoever went there got infected and they believed fantastical ideas would fool people.

  “Not one day. Years.”

  “Are you drunk? Is there alcohol in that coffee? I want no part of this.” I held up my hands and stood. “I’ll meet you back at the office, Olivia. Enjoy your hot chocolate.”

  Olivia frowned but nodded. I felt an ache in my heart as I glanced at Iona. Even with that silly wig on, she was striking. More so than Olivia? My heart thought so, but that didn’t mean I wanted to live with her or fake marry her. I was so confused and angry and the best thing for everyone at the table was for me to leave.
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  That’s exactly what I did. I turned and marched out the door. Part of me expected—no, that’s not the right word . . . hoped—I hoped Iona would run after me. But as I glanced back on the sidewalk, there was no woman in a ghastly wig following me.

  I shook my head and kept on walking. It was best she didn’t follow. I knew the smallest thing would set me off, and I didn’t want Iona to see that.

  I heard a gasp and turned to see a woman pushing a stroller.

  She stared at me and shook her head.

  I did something that I normally never did. Instead of winking at the woman and going about my day, I decided to speak with her.

  “Do you ever think the world is out to destroy you?”

  “What?” She eyed her baby and I couldn’t help but notice her grip tighten on the handle of the stroller.

  “Never mind. Just having a bad day. Sorry to bother you.”

  I turned but stopped before walking away when she said, “We all have bad days. The old saying of sticks and stones is a load of crock. Other people’s words and actions can hurt us.”

  I looked back at her and noticed the sadness in her eyes.

  “But how do you get over that? Especially if it’s someone you care about?”

  I had no idea why I was pouring my heart out to this stranger. A woman who probably thought I was crazy. But I felt better letting it out to someone who didn’t know me at all, which was rare in this town. Most people knew everyone who lived here. She must be new to town.

  “You talk to them, like you’re talking to me. It’s not easy and you can’t assume they will react how you want, but I find that communication is the key to solving most problems.”

  I smiled. “Thank you.” I glanced at her hand and noticed the grip had loosened on the stroller. I saw the ring and said, “The person who gave you that ring is lucky to have you.”

  “I guess. Maybe he’ll realize that one day. I hope your day improves.”

  “I’m Tyler, by the way.”

  “Trisha. It was nice to meet you, Tyler.” She pushed off and strolled down the block.

  “It’s beautiful weather for a walk. Nice to meet you, too,” I called and waved after her.

  She was a reminder that not everyone was selfish and greedy. There was kindness on this planet, despite what I had experienced the past day.

  Enjoying the weather and the surge of hope, I continued toward the office. But just as I turned the corner, I noticed close to ten people hanging out in front. And most of them had cameras.

  The damn paparazzi.

  Why do they care so much about me?

  I turned and ran back to the diner. When I entered, I saw that Iona, Olivia, and Babette were still occupying the back booth. Marching over, I said, “Make the reporters go away.”

  “What reporters?” Olivia asked.

  I pointed to the large glass window which gave a view of the sidewalk. “The ones outside the office.”

  Olivia’s eyes widened. “Is it me? Do they want Carter?”

  Carter Fitzwilliam had his own issues with journalists. I always thought he was crazy avoiding people but now I was getting a taste as to why he hid away in his cabin. Now I understood the grumpy sheep farmer.

  “No. They wish to speak with Dr. Ferguson,” Babette said and removed something black from her purse. Folding it open, it produced a small tablet which instantly came to life.

  “That is so cool.” Olivia reached for it, but Babette swatted her hand away.

  “It’s not here to entertain. I brought it out to show Dr. Ferguson why the paps won’t leave him alone.”

  She tapped it a few times and then I saw my face everywhere. She handed it to me, and I read headlines that said, “Killer Vet. Highest rate of euthanized animals in the state.” “Hollywood Actress kicked out of her own home by Killer Vet.”

  “This makes me into some kind of monster.” I couldn’t keep from reading each post. Some had even quoted my clients—even the mayor had a comment.

  That man hated me.

  “Unfortunately, it’s not much better for I.D. A pap took a picture of you on set grabbing Cara and made it out to be that you were going to hurt her.”

  “I would never hurt Cara! She’s the best,” Iona said.

  Babette plucked the tablet from me and put it back into her bag. “You know that. And I’m sure the good doctor here isn’t really a killer, either.”

  “No, I would never purposely hurt or, worse, kill an animal.”

  My head felt cloudy, unable to clear my brain. I tried to think of anything that would make people believe I would unnecessarily kill animals, but nothing came to mind.

  “The paparazzi can turn anything into something bad. Trust me. My family’s been dealing with this sort of thing my whole life. If people think you have money or fame or power, they will turn the smallest thing into a total nightmare,” Olivia said as she lifted the cocoa to her mouth.

  Debbie had given them their food while I was walking to the office. Looking at their plates, my stomach rumbled, and I wished I had ordered food.

  “My practice. Has anyone canceled their appointments?” I looked over to Olivia as she frowned.

  “Yes, a lot actually. I thought it was weird this morning that so many had canceled and refused to reschedule, but I thought maybe there was a fair going on that I didn’t know about. This explains a lot.”

  I pulled at the collar of my white button-up shirt. The room was hot, and I looked around for Debbie to tell her to turn up the air-conditioning. She was nowhere to be found.

  As the ringing in my ears increased, I just hoped I wouldn’t pass out.

  Babette cleared her throat, causing me to give her my attention as I finally sat. “This can be cleared up, but it’s going to take some time and a bit of effort on both your parts.” Babette waved her hands at Iona and me.

  “By pretending to get married to Iona? No thank you.” I tried not to sound bitter, but there was no masking my irritation.

  Iona sighed, and I noticed she was more sad than angry.

  “Not getting married. Having an engagement.”

  It wasn’t the thought of marrying Iona that made me want to run away. It was the lie.

  I watched my parents lie and cheat and even steal if they had to. Anyone was fair game. I knew my dad and he would have been eager to take part in this scheme, as long as there was a big payout on the other side.

  My father was as far from earnest as could be, and I vowed never to be like him. My brother disliked what our parents did, too. He worked in security in Chicago to keep people like my parents away.

  Once they passed

  “Here’s the thing . . . You can either go along with this little plan for a month or two. At least until everything has died down and I.D. can head back to the West Coast. Or, you can hope the slander to your reputation as a veterinarian magically disappears. All while we find the realtor and former owner of our house that did a runner with both our money.”

  Her words hit me hard. I reached for the first cup in front of me and discovered too late it was Olivia’s hot chocolate. Warm, creamy drinks weren’t a good choice when parched.

  “And how would a fake engagement to Iona make all this go away?” I asked as I pushed the cup back to Olivia.

  “It was my masseuse, I mean, I.D. who gave me the idea, funny enough,” Babette said with a smile.

  NINE

  Iona

  “FOR THE TENTH TIME, I did not give her that idea,” I yelled to the door.

  “Those were her exact words. She said, and I quote, ‘Iona gave me the idea for the fake engagement.’” Tyler’s voice was muffled.

  We were on day eight of the I.T. Scheme—that’s the nickname Babette came up with and had her assistant refer to us as I.T. to the press. It was better than the blended names that usually occurred with celebrity couplings.

  “That’s not what she said.”

  We had this fight every morning and every evening. Forced to be in the sa
me house with him wasn’t as sexy as I thought it might be once I accepted the idea. Yes, I had originally thought of it, but never told Babette, and that was the truth. I was just as shocked as Tyler was when she said I gave her the idea.

  But once she explained it to us, it made sense. I still had no idea why the press went after Tyler with a vengeance. Usually, if a celebrity dates a non-celebrity, the paps would dig up a few factoids but nothing extreme. With Tyler, they twisted anything he did to make him appear to be a monster.

  “Yes, she did.”

  “She never calls me Iona. I’m always I.D. to her. So she wouldn’t have said Iona gave me the idea.”

  His bedroom door opened, and my mouth dried up. Tyler stood there in only his fitted khakis—no socks, no shoes, no shirt. My eyes had to soak him in. They trailed the muscles of his body with purpose.

  Material for later when I break out my vibrator.

  “My eyes are up here,” he said.

  “I know where they are.” I still stared at his abs. “How did you get those?” I pointed to where my eyes wouldn’t budge from.

  “Eating healthy and exercise. I assume you have some sort of trainer you pay a ridiculous amount of money to. Probably an expensive nutritionist as well. It’s amazing how I can do what they are paid to do, for free.”

  The folding of his arms over his chest caused my gaze to flicker. Which arm to drool over first? Maybe if I went cross-eyed, I could look at both at once.

  “Can you stop ogling my body and focus on what’s important for a minute?”

  With much regret, I pulled my focus from his creamy, tight body to his face. Which wasn’t bad to look at either, but I saw it every day so it didn’t have the illicit factor that made things extra appealing.

  “The argument isn’t important. I don’t know how many times I can tell you this. I never said a word to Babette about the fake engagement idea. She came up with it on her own. It was the emails that gave her the idea.”

  Tyler looked at me like I was trying to sell him the latest fad diet which included eating nothing but potato chips and snack cakes yet caused people to lose a hundred pounds in a month.