Cabin Fever (Lost and Found Book 1)

by Elizabeth Lynx

  This time she knew I wanted her. This time, as my lips brushed hers, causing me to moan at their softness, Olivia had the power to leave me undone.

  Her tongue darted out. Only the tip, but it was enough to curl my fingers into her messy blond hair and deepen our kiss. She tasted like mint and smelled of some sweet flower I didn't know the name of until I hunt it down to gather a bouquet so I could give it to her. One day.

  Olivia's head pulled away, and I noticed her swollen lips. I leaned forward for more but instead of another kiss, she shifted onto my lap, straddling me. Her breasts pushed against my chest and the stiffness of her nipples grazed a line across my chest as I grasped the tiny shred of control I had left.

  I wanted to push and grind her body over mine. I wanted to live out my fantasy, the one where I grip her hair and she rides me, unable to stop from screaming my name. It was as if she saw inside my head and was willing to play it all out here, tonight.

  But just before I lifted her breast so I could wrap my lips around her aching nipple, Kitty ruined everything.

  She barked. And then Kitty kept on barking.

  Olivia froze, turning her head toward the bedroom door.

  "Kitty's probably having a dream. Ignore her."

  But when we heard a bang and Kitty's howling ended suddenly, I knew that it wasn't a dream anymore, but a nightmare.

  FIFTEEN

  Olivia

  "FUDGE POCKET," CARTER ground out the ridiculous phrase.

  I was horny, sweating, and now I was worried.

  "What was that?" I asked as I brought my fingers to my tested lips.

  Damn it. I wanted to enjoy our night of kissing and perhaps, more than kissing. It was obvious Carter was a virgin. The man wanted to kiss me but made every excuse as to why we shouldn't, even when I told him we should.

  I believed I was obvious in my pursuit of him. At no point had I pretended I didn't want the man. Carter wasn't like any man I had dated or met before. His body was like that of an athlete, thick with muscles. Or, if I added his personality into the mix, he was more like a caveman.

  He was gruff, hard, a prankster, and surprisingly fragile. All the men I knew cared more about their appearance and money than enjoying life. Carter was the opposite of them. The opposite of Derrick.

  "Stay here and be quiet. I think it's someone breaking in."

  Carter lifted me one-handed from his lap and scurried to the door. My eyes widened as I worried he would get hurt. I put my top back on and raced over to him and grabbed his shoulder before he opened the door.

  "Where's your rifle?" I whispered. I still remembered that image of him holding it the night he found me eating his beans. Whoever was out there would take one look at my mountain of a man with his rifle and run.

  "It's up in the loft. Since I had been sleeping there, I kept it nearby. I hadn't moved it yet. Don't worry, I got this." He held up his cast.

  I gasped. "You must be insane!" I whisper-screamed. "You'll do more damage to your arm. What if you can never farm sheep again?"

  I was sure there were one-armed farmers in the world, but I didn't want him to know that. He was going to get hurt trying to beat someone with a broken arm.

  Carter turned, cupping his hand to my cheek. "Olivia, please stay here. If things get bad, run to the farm. There's a large ax hanging by the sheep shears. I don't want you to get hurt."

  He should run, too. We needed to hide in the barn, surrounded by sheep poop. A robber wasn't going to go after anyone through a minefield of crap.

  Taking his hand from my cheek, I placed it on my left tit. "Do you feel this?"

  His emerald eyes darkened, and he made the same sound he did when I first took my top off. It was weird yet sexy, and I knew he was listening.

  "This is the boob of a woman who knows karate, tae kwon do, and kickboxing. I have been kicked, punched, and grabbed in this tit more times than you've shorn sheep. If anyone is going out to face the intruder, it's me."

  My words sunk in. The glassy, startled gaze in his eyes disappeared. He straightened to his full height and lowered his arm.

  "You're the insane one if you think I'm letting you go out there. I'm sure your fancy instructors spent years in the Far East studying ancient text involving martial arts so your rich parents could teach their precious daughter, but in real life, you could get killed. This isn't the first time someone has broken into the cabin, and it probably won't be the last. That's the thing about isolation . . . it attracts the crazies."

  "Tell me about it," I mumbled as my eyes darted to the floor.

  A rush of air fluttered over me as Carter opened the bedroom door, stepped outside, and closed it before I could stop him.

  Ugh. Men.

  I waved my hands in the air mimicking him. "I'm a big man beast. You stay here, small woman. I go beat up bad guy."

  Once my immature rage had settled, I pushed my ear to the door.

  "Get out of my house," I heard Carter yell. I didn't know if it was because his voice was muffled or if he did it on purpose, but he deepened his voice and I found that super sexy.

  "Where's the money?" Another male voice slipped through the door.

  "I have no money. Leave. The only thing of value I have is my dishes. Feel free to run through the woods carrying a stack of plates, dum-dum."

  I grimaced. It was times like this that I wished Carter cursed. I understood it was best not to use foul language but when you're trying to scare a robber; you need to use everything you got.

  The intruder laughed. "Shut up, Fitzwilliam. I know who you are. You can hide all you want up here, but you owe our family money. We were ruined because of your stupid family."

  Did Carter know this guy? This would make a really cool show on Netflix that I would totally binge-watch but being in the middle of it didn't make it seem so awesome. It was horrible and scary, and I might have permanently put pit stains on Carter's top.

  There was a bang which sounded like something falling over. I heard a bark and felt relief that Kitty was still alive. I was worried the bad guy had hurt her.

  Carter cried out, and I didn't hesitate. My hand was on the doorknob, pulling the door open before I even knew what I would do once I left the bedroom. Everyone always had a plan—in movies, in shows . . . even my father had a plan when dealing with stubborn clients.

  I stood in the hallway, watching the guy I had grown to care about over the past two weeks get thrashed around his kitchen. I tried to remember what my instructors had told me, but the only thing that came to mind was to be in the moment.

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath before cementing my gaze on the men. What I noticed was neither of them knew I was standing about twenty-five feet from them. The hall was dark with no windows to light me. I was a shadow.

  Both men were struggling. There wasn't much hitting going on, more like wrestling. It would be hot if they were both wearing tight uniforms and greased up, but this was real life as Carter pointed out. Real life wrestling involved a man in flannel pj's and a worn gray T-shirt fighting another man in jeans and a leather jacket.

  I waited for Carter to turn before I crept toward them. Kitty was the only one in the room to notice me. She began to wag her tail and came forward. Carter had shown me a few hand gestures over the past week to instruct Kitty. I held my hand up to tell her to stop, which she did. Then I lifted my palm up informing her to sit. Again, she listened.

  These hand gestures were amazing. Now if I could only teach Carter to sit and stay . . .

  I crept and cursed under my breath that everything in the house was made of wood. The floorboards creaked but thankfully, the men were too enthralled in their wrestling match to notice. It made it easier to get behind the robber and assess his weak points.

  Getting into position, I leaned back on one foot and put all my strength into my kick. The guy arched back as my foot landed on his side. He screamed in pain. I stood, a bit stunned but proud that my years of training had paid off. I kicked a bad guy
and it actually hurt him.

  For some reason, I stared at my hands in awe as if they did the kicking. Until I was knocked back and fell to the floor.

  "Bitch! That fucking hurt." The guy with a long, sharp nose and almond-shaped eyes stood over me.

  He was panting like a deranged animal. I swear I saw foam at the corners of his mouth. He lifted his foot back, and I knew what was to come—a kick. I had been trained for this eventuality. I knew how to grab his foot and twist it before he could land his blow.

  But I never had to implement my training as his foot stayed behind him. I watched the dum-dum hop on one leg, his beady eyes straining to widen. Carter had the guy's foot, but he only had use of one hand to hold him in place. He needed help.

  I jumped to my feet and landed my final blow. Did I know it was going to be the kick that would take the jerk down? No. Everything was happening in the moment. But then my heel hit his face, and I watched his lips ripple as his head flew to the side like something out of a movie. I knew one thing for absolute certainty—I was a certified badass.

  He crumpled to the floor breathing, but unconscious. I looked up at Carter and he held up his hand. I slapped it because that's what bad motherfuckers do. They high-fived after knocking out a bad guy.

  Flushed, Carter was breathing hard, but with a wide grin on his face.

  "Yeah! I want to go find more baddies and beat them up." I hopped in the air as the adrenaline pulsed through my veins.

  "How about we call the police instead?"

  Carter ruined the moment by bringing logic into it.

  "Fine. But I feel we should use our powers for good. Maybe take our ass-kicking skills on the road."

  His laughter burst forth like a warm breeze. I wanted to rush into his arms, thankful he was alive. That I was alive. And then I wanted to grill him about why he wouldn't let me help from the beginning.

  My hand shook as I stepped forward and placed it on his chest. "You okay?"

  Carter grabbed my hand and brought it to his lips. With a sigh, he kissed my palm. "Yes. And you? How are your boobs?"

  "What?" I said with a puff of laughter.

  "I wanted to make sure . . . You know, since they had been beaten up so many times in the past. Should I massage them? Would that make them feel better?"

  "Yes. Very much." I pulled away, placing my hand on my tit. "This one right here had a long day. See how stiff it is." I slid my finger over the tip of my nipples.

  Carter's head fell to mine. "I really want to work out the kinks on your breasts, but I should call the sheriff first."

  He stared at my chest and nodded, making that strange sexy sound again.

  "I really hate when you start acting logically. Fine, but after this deadbeat is dragged off to jail, I expect a full rub down." My grin grew as his eye lifted to meet mine. "Front to back."

  The guy on the floor moaned, breaking us out of our thoughts of deep breast massage.

  Kitty barked and then burped. I noticed something fall from Kitty's mouth.

  "Eww. What was that?"

  Carter walked over and lifted the white glob from the floor. He brought it to his nose to sniff. Then Carter did something that had me questioning my attraction to him. He was handsome, rugged, and I never had a dull moment with him, but when he stuck his tongue out to get a taste of the thing he picked up off the floor, I contemplated calling the police on Carter and not the intruder.

  "Oh no! Ugh. That was disgusting." I brought my hand to my mouth and mumbled, "I think I'm going to be sick."

  It seemed Carter relished in my misery. He lifted his head, smiling, and held out the half-eaten Kitty grossness. "You want some?"

  I turned and waved him back. "For the love of God, Carter, throw that away. You have issues. Some sick food issues."

  "It's fat from meat. That's how the intruder got Kitty to stop barking—he fed her raw meat." Carter bent down and rubbed the dog's head as if she helped defend the home from the intruder instead of succumbing to his food charms.

  "I thought you said Kitty helped you take down wolves? Yet, she did nothing to the dum-dum on the floor."

  Cater stood and shrugged. "What can I do? It's not the first time Kitty failed to guard the place. If I remember correctly, she fell in love with you after you threw a can of beans at her."

  My heart warmed as Carter moved closer.

  "I wasn't aiming for Kitty."

  His arms slid around me. Carter was warm as the adrenaline wore off and I rested my head on his chest.

  "I know. I don't think my floor appreciates you throwing cans at it."

  I swatted at his arm. "I meant that I was aiming for you."

  "You were? I never would have guessed."

  I pulled back and pointed to my toes. "These are weapons. Be careful what you say. Don't you have a call to make?"

  "Yes, but it's so much fun teasing you. I tell you what, you go in and lie down. You've done enough for today. I'll call the police and wait for them to arrive."

  I tried to stifle the yawn, but it was too much. Nodding, I moved toward the bedroom. But I stopped just outside the door, remembering something. "How did that guy," I pointed at the lump of bugler on the floor, "know your last name?"

  His eyebrows rose before he looked down at the intruder. "You heard that, huh? I guess he must have poked in my mailbox at the end of the driveway."

  He kept staring at the guy on the floor and wouldn't look at me. I didn't believe him. Having grown up with a father who could sweet talk a thirsty man out of his last bit of water, I knew how to spot a lie. The only thing Carter could do that would make it more obvious that he was lying would be to have large neon signs pointing at him that read: I AM LYING.

  "Okay . . ." I nodded before moving back into the bedroom.

  Once I was back in bed, the warm blanket felt scratchy and I couldn't get comfortable on the soft mattress. I heard the muffled sounds of the police speaking with Carter. I knew we were safe now that the bad guy was being taken away. Yet I lie awake staring at the ceiling with thoughts of missing puzzle pieces floating in my head.

  I tried to think of my call with my sister. How wonderful it was to hear her voice, but that only reminded me of my discussion with Tyler about Carter's past. Then my mind wandered back even further to my elementary school. I was in first grade when a picture of a young boy who disappeared was permanently erected in the cafeteria. A dedication to his life that turned into whispers and finally succumbed to legend.

  SIXTEEN

  Carter

  "WHAT THE HOLY FUCK is this place? And how does it smell so amazing?" A strange female voice came from the front of the cabin.

  I put my toothbrush down before rinsing the toothpaste from around my mouth.

  "It's a cabin, Bea." Olivia's deadpan voice caused a smile to form on my face.

  After finishing in the bathroom, I opened the door and hesitantly walked out. I hadn't expected Olivia's sister to show up. Olivia mentioned yesterday that she had called her at the diner but said no more about it. I could tell Olivia didn't want to speak any more about the phone call. Since I'm a man who understood when to let things go, I never asked her another question.

  Perhaps I should have been nosy and pried further—then at least I'd have known to expect Bea. I would have made more coffee and a few extra slices of bacon at the very least.

  "Oh, this must be the sheep farmer." One of Bea's large brown eyes winked at Olivia.

  "Bea, stop. This is Carter. This is his cabin."

  Her sister stood straight, and I noticed they were the same height, both on the short side but not too small. Where Olivia had long blond hair, Bea's dark brown locks were short. But their eyes were the same color, the same shape.

  Bea strode toward me, confidence in her step as she held out her hand. "I'm Beatrice Love, Olivia's sister. It's a pleasure to meet you, Carter. I must say your cabin is adorable."

  I noticed the handshake was firm but not bone-crushingly so and the air in the room felt
electrified, almost like she was someone to know. I had the strange sensation that everything I would offer her wouldn't be good enough.

  Kitty sat rigidly on her bed by the door staring at Bea. Everyone in this room was waiting for Bea's instruction, including me.

  "Adorable? Thank you."

  The moment after I said that, I felt my cheeks flush. Why couldn't I imagine a better response? Tell her the last thing a sheep farmer in the mountains thought of while decorating his home was anything adorable. Practical, yes. Rugged, yes. Adorable, not so much—that was for magazines and soccer moms.

  Bea turned, obviously done with me and walked back to her sister. "I'm in desperate need for coffee. Based on your complexion, Ollie, you need to get out. Why don't we head to a café? I'll wait for you two to get ready."

  I gazed down at my flannel shirt and jeans that I had put on less than twenty minutes ago and wondered if I owned better clothing.

  "These are our clothes, Bea. It's not like I packed a suitcase before I ran from the wedding. Carter was nice enough to let me borrow his old clothes while I've been here."

  "But what about the credit card I left you at the diner in town? Did you get it?"

  Olivia frowned, her eyes flickered to me for a brief moment before returning to her sister's scrutiny. "Yes, but I don't have much use for nice clothes here at the farm."

  Beatrice's brow crinkled, and it seemed she rarely wore that expression. She appeared uncomfortable in her confusion. Pointing to me and then Olivia, Bea opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

  She went over to the kitchen table and pulled out a chair. Once seated, she spoke. "You've been here the whole time? No skiing or nights out or anything?"

  "Just about. I did have to go to the hospital a few days ago to pick up Carter." Olivia pointed to my arm. "That's when we stopped at the diner and I got your letter. I went out and bought one pair of jeans and a sweater, but that's all I had time to get. There's too much to do on the farm to be out shopping all day."