Lost and Found (books 1-3): Small-Town Romantic Comedy

by Elizabeth Lynx

  Her head lowered and she lifted the oversized sweater, allowing for a brief, yet mesmerizing flash of her belly.

  Olivia tugged at the top until it molded to her shape before she turned. The more she groped at her clothing, the more pressure I felt against my jeans.

  It was in the single digits out here and I was sweating.

  "No. Is there a hole? I am sorry if I did something."

  Waving my hands, I kept my head down as I jogged up the steps. "Never mind. Just seems odd to see someone in my clothes."

  She moved aside and as I brushed past, I inhaled her intriguing scent. If I was confused before, the smell of my soap mixed with something uniquely Olivia had me utterly dumbfounded.

  She closed the door behind me, and I snapped my eyes shut for a moment as another blast of her surrounded me.

  "Want some cocoa?"

  I went over and sat at the kitchen table, focusing on removing my boots as I willed the scent away.

  "Cocoa? I don't have hot chocolate."

  Her brow wrinkled adorably. "You live in a winter paradise. This place," she waved her arms around the room, "looks like something from a Nestle commercial. And you’re telling me you don't have cocoa?"

  It was moments like this where Olivia became tolerable.

  I tried to keep a straight face at her dramatic response from my lack of chocolate drinks and swallowed a laugh. "No."

  She folded her arm and appeared in pain. "Why not? Are you allergic to chocolate? That would be the only logical explanation."

  Taking off my other boot, I got up and placed it by the door. This woman was a puzzle. She knew almost nothing about everyday life and self-maintenance, yet was shocked I didn't own cocoa.

  When she took a bath a few days ago, I had to show her how to plug up the bath so the water didn't escape. She explained someone always drew baths for her back home. I asked her what she did when she took a trip, like up here in Maine. Her response, "I bring my maid. Doesn't everyone?"

  She was confused, and it was a little like watching a kid being told there was no Santa as I explained that most people didn't have servants. This woman led a very sheltered and spoiled life. If she was going to be with me for a while, I'd make it my mission to break her of that lifestyle.

  "I'm not allergic. I never really thought about it when I go shopping."

  She clasped her hands over her chest and sighed. "Oh thank God, uh, I mean . . . goodness. I thought you lived so far from civilization that you had to have your food dropped by airplane. When we get out of here, I must take you out for cocoa. There's got to be a quaint little chocolate shop in town." Olivia suddenly developed a French accent as she said chocolate. Yeah, I got a lot of work ahead of me on bringing this woman back to Earth.

  "I'm obviously near people if you were able to walk here."

  Olivia moved to the lower kitchen cabinets which I had since restocked when she was unconscious the day she showed up. She pushed cans and boxes aside in search of something.

  "But I was walking for a long time. Most of the day. I'm sure I covered hundreds of miles."

  "Try three. You walked exactly three miles."

  Olivia halted her digging and stood. "No, it couldn't have been that small. I felt like I was going to die."

  "I admit, if we drove to The Lodge then it would take about thirty minutes to get around the mountain. But to walk straight here from one end of Fire Mountain to the other, it's only about three, maybe four miles." I shrugged. "I'm guessing you weaved up and down the mountain. Since you trekked through the snow and terrain, it took you longer and required more effort."

  I had the strange urge to hug her the more she frowned. "But, that can't be. Wouldn't we have heard helicopters and people searching the woods for me? I ran from The Lodge without telling anyone, not even my sister. I left all my things behind. Wouldn't that make people suspicious?"

  With a shrug, I stood from the chair. "I would assume. Maybe they're looking in the wrong area?"

  It did seem suspicious that we hadn't heard a search party, but I wasn't about to add to her worry by telling her that. I made my way over to Olivia and patted her shoulder. That wasn't enough for the overly affectionate woman. She flung herself at me and buried her face into my chest.

  I stilled but soon relaxed. Just having her here was softening some part of me that was never meant to be abated. My father had warned me against people like her. He explained that people don't become rich and powerful by luck. They had to give up pieces of their soul to gain their wealth.

  Was Olivia any different? I didn't have to ask as it was obvious that she came from money. Even if she didn't gain that wealth herself, she was raised by a family who lived that corrupted lifestyle.

  Perhaps they taught her the way to trick people was through affection. Make others believe they're sweet and caring. I wasn't so easily duped.

  With a gentle grip on her shoulders, I pulled Olivia from my body. "Maybe the phone line will be up tomorrow. You'll be out of here before you know it." And hopefully, before I lost my mind.

  FIVE

  Olivia

  "You'll sleep when you're dead," Carter, who I had now nicknamed Mr. Grumpington, said as he glared down at me.

  My fingers grasped at the covers and I held them to my neck as if I was a damsel being attacked by a marauder in bed.

  It was worse than that. At least I knew how to defend myself against an attacker. My father made sure all his children trained with black belts and prized fighters growing up so we would be able to protect ourselves. I may not have grown up in the streets, but you'd be surprised how many trust fund guys felt you owed them whatever they wanted to take.

  "Then kill me," I bit back as his eyes narrowed.

  "The sun has been up for an hour. I've been generous letting you rest, but since it seems like I'll never be rid of you, then you have to earn your keep." He held up my coat and boots.

  "I can't even have breakfast or get dressed or have a long soak in the tub? This is worse than being forced to do manual labor."

  He groaned. "This is manual labor."

  Carter dropped my things and rubbed his face. I knew he wouldn't last much longer. It was his habit to scratch some part of his head when he was at his limit. I never meant to push him that far but there was something about it that I enjoyed.

  It was wrong of me; I knew that but the way he clenched his jaw and his muscles tightened—especially in his arms—made my heart jump around my chest. I was raised better than to taunt someone. But Carter wasn't like anyone I had ever met.

  He was like a puzzle.

  The man was irritable most of the time, except when he was around his animals. There were twelve sheep, or ewes as he called them, and he coddled them as if they were his babies.

  I was given the barnyard tour the first time the truck wouldn't start—nine long days ago. He explained that if I was stuck here, I might as well help out. Which I didn't mind. It made sense.

  Not only did he love his sheep, but when it came to the hierarchy in this cabin, I was below Kitty. I loved dogs too but they're dogs. I would never treat a guest worse than my pet.

  Then there was me. Almost anything out of his mouth directed at me was a command or complaint. But that wasn't the puzzling part. I would catch him from time to time staring at me. The way he gazed at my body was confusing. His eyes sunk into my flesh as if he were a starving wolf, and I was one of his sheep.

  By my estimate, he rarely saw women. Being one of those hermit-type people, all by himself up here on the mountain, I suspected he might be a virgin. Which would explain his surly behavior and lack of understanding on how to treat his fellow humans.

  "You want breakfast? There's some on the table. I made your favorite . . . bacon."

  There was something about how he said bacon that had me suspicious. His wolfish grin was back, but he wasn't eyeing my ass this time. He stared at me as if he knew there was a killer right outside the bedroom door ready to get rid of his unwelcome g
uest.

  Maybe he was finally treating me with some respect. Maybe he just wanted me to enjoy his food. The man loved to cook, at least I think he loved it. Carter was good at cooking and took pride in his meals. He was always boasting to Kitty about trying new things with his potatoes.

  I learned quickly to serve myself and keep my own company. Whenever I asked about his life here at the cabin, he grew quiet. It was quickly obvious that Kitty was his conversation partner, not me.

  I pushed back the covers at the mention of meat candy but eyed him with suspicion. "Fine. After I eat, I'll get dressed and come out to the barn."

  His lips twitched as I stood and put on his old boots, which I used as make-shift slippers. The floor was cold and even the thick socks Carter let me use weren't warm enough to protect me from the chill.

  "How about I add some wood to the fire, would you like that, too?"

  Surprise stopped me at the door. I turned just outside the bedroom and stared. "Why are you being so nice? You hate talking to me."

  And as for the wood, he's like the Ebenezer Scrooge of heating.

  "You're my guest. I thought about it yesterday after the ninth failed attempt at starting the truck. You don't want to be here anymore than I want you here."

  I frowned, noticing he was keeping count. I was too, but I didn't live here. This wasn't my home. I had something to miss . . . he didn't.

  Not that I missed Washington, DC. It was home, but I traveled so much my whole life, I felt at home in most places. I did miss Bea though.

  Despite not knowing how to do much, I discovered I enjoyed helping out, even with the sheep. Carter took care of all the gross stuff, like cleaning the poop and old hay off the floor. I actually threw up a little in my mouth when I witnessed that the other day.

  What I liked was learning how to take care of the sheep, what they ate, when to let them graze, and how they had a hierarchy.

  The animals fascinated me.

  "At least it's not snowing. Maybe the cold snap will end soon and then the cleared roads won't be solid ice anymore. Then I can head back to The Lodge and buy a plane ticket back to Washington, DC. Back home." I tried my best to grin, but I could feel myself giving into the defeat Carter had felt from day one.

  I was ecstatic three days ago when it finally stopped snowing. The sun came out, and I thought for sure the next day the truck would start or the phone would work but nothing had happened. Now, it's colder than it was during the storm. According to his thermometer on the side of the house, it was well below zero.

  I won't ever have a destination wedding again during the winter at the tippy top of a mountain—unless that mountain was on a Caribbean island.

  "You're from DC?" Carter said with a sneer.

  I rolled my eyes. If he had anything resembling a conversation with me the past week and a half, he'd know where I was from by now. I guess I wasn't a charmer like Kitty.

  I nodded. "Yeah. You ever been to our nation's capital?"

  The way he reacted to my hometown made me suspect that he must have ridden the metro there on a vacation. I don't blame him. It's not a fun time.

  "None of your business." His jaw tightened before he ground out, "Enjoy your meal." Carter folded his arms as he watched me head toward the kitchen.

  Much as he promised, there was lots of bacon piled high on a plate in the middle of the table.

  "I see there's a little bit of potatoes, too. Thank you."

  "Anything for my guest." Carter waved his hand toward the stove where the bacon and potatoes were left to warm.

  Something was different. His tone. His smile. His attempt at being nice to me made him appear uncomfortable, but the odd part was that he was trying.

  Perhaps he was starting to thaw. Beginning to realize that the longer he stayed irritable, the worse it was for everyone.

  I filled my plate and sat. Within moments he placed a steaming mug of coffee on the table next to my plate. "For my guest."

  "You have coffee? I never saw you make coffee before."

  "I use it sparingly. It's Fire Lake Coffee, made locally by a brother and sister team. It's the best coffee you'll ever taste. I always pick up some at the Fire and Ice diner whenever I'm in town."

  I lifted the warm mug to my lips and hesitantly sipped the drink. While I prefer coffee with my breakfast, I'm not a coffee fanatic like my sister.

  My eyes widened when the hot drink touched my tongue. "My God, uh, goodness, this is amazing. Is it flavored coffee?"

  Carter sat at the table. "No. It tastes like it is, but it's their medium roast morning blend. Love the stuff."

  All I could do was hum my approval. It had hints of chocolate and smoke. I had never tasted anything like it. If this coffee went wide, it would blow every coffee maker away.

  Before I knew it, I had emptied my cup. "I usually put milk in my coffee to help ease the bitter aftertaste, but this didn't need it. No wonder you hide it away like gold."

  And that's when something happened that I never thought I would see . . . Carter laughed. It was devastating and my heart beat against my chest with cries for more. I didn't know which I was more in awe of, the coffee or Carter's heartbreaking grin.

  "I thought you were hungry?" He pointed to my plate, unsure as to why I wasn't eating.

  I was but I couldn't tell him why I couldn't take a bit of that delicious meat candy he made for me. How would I explain that watching his mouth shine with happiness was like seeing a rainbow for the first time? A rainbow that was capable of inducing an explosion of ovaries within a two-mile radius.

  "Just savoring the coffee." I licked my fingers like an idiot.

  Not a drop of coffee had spilled on them, yet I had to suck on something for fear of what other word might slip out of my mouth. Words like kissable or sexy or one I knew he wouldn't like, fuckable.

  Carter had a very fuckable mouth.

  "I think I made enough for another cup. Why don't I get that for you?" His lips twisted at the side and I was discovering it wasn't because he was plotting my demise, that was just his nice face. The smile he gave people when he wished to be kind.

  How would I survive the next day or days, depending when the phone line was fixed, if he kept being nice to me?

  A brief thought flew through my head. What if I had a fling with Carter?

  He's hot and I won't be here very long. It's obvious he's a virgin, I might be doing him a favor. Unless he's saving himself for a future wife. If that was true, there couldn't be anything between us. I was ready to stick it to Derrick by getting it on with a cranky, sexy mountain man, but I would never force anyone to do something they didn't want.

  I felt uneasy as I studied Carter and his winning smile. I realized I wasn't the one-night stand type of person.

  As much as I hated Carter treating me like a second-class citizen in his home, I couldn't use him as my rebound fling. What if he fell hard for me? It's not like I'm sticking around here. His cabin's cute and all, and it's nice to rough it every once in a while, but dating a sheep farmer wasn't on my list of priorities. In fact, dating, in general, was a no-go for me. I had to face it; I wasn't qualified to seek out men who would make favorable partners.

  I hadn't put much thought into the men I'd dated. If my mother approved, he was date-able. If my father liked the guy, then he was marriage material. But I never asked myself if I wanted more from the man. I needed to take some time and find out what I wanted in a partner. And based on Carter's personality and lack of charm, it definitely wasn't him.

  I had to keep our relationship the way it had been. Like he's the Lord of the manor and I'm some lonely peasant.

  "It's about time you began serving your guest." I hated breaking out the "rude" card but felt it necessary for fear of what I might do to his fuckable lips.

  I held up the mug and as he came near, I turned my attention to the bacon. Carter cleared his throat while taking the cup. Just as he turned, I held up my plate.

  "Do you have a microwave or s
omething? I fear the food has gone cold. And if there's one thing I hate, it's eating cold bacon. If it isn't warm it isn't worth it, that's my motto."

  Carter slowly turned back. I swore for a moment his green eyes flashed red as he glared at me. "No, I do not own a microwave. Maybe if you hadn't slept so long you could have enjoyed it fresh from the pan. Forgive me if this isn't the Four Seasons and I can't make everything to your specifications. The motto here is, if it's food and hasn't spoiled, you keep quiet and consider yourself lucky to have a meal."

  Wow, it's rather easy to push his buttons.

  "Kind of a long motto, don't you think? I thought mottoes were supposed to be short. Catchy. That has too much explanation—"

  He slammed the mug back onto the table with enough force that I thought it would break. "You know what's also short? My patience. You have exactly five minutes to eat your unsavory cold breakfast and meet me in the barn."

  Carter's footsteps were heavy against the floor as he walked away. Kitty, who had been drooling in her dog bed by the stove while staring at my food, flicked her gaze to Carter for a moment before settling it back on my plate.

  "He's not much of a people person, is he, Kitty? I don't want to be mean to him, but you've seen his mouth. That's not something I should be messing with. It's lethal. A woman could die of orgasms just from his lips. Imagine if his tongue were involved?"

  I chewed on the cool bacon that was delicious as always and thought about my dilemma. Living up here, secluded in a Hallmark-inspired cabin, surrounded by mother nature was all too tempting to want to hump the wild sheep farmer.

  There was a thrill when his body stiffened with anger.

  He had taken care of me since I arrived. Teaching me things when I asked. Willing to put up with my steep learning curve with what should have been obvious, like using a washing machine. While he was Mr. Grumpington through most of it, he did go out of his way to help.

  I finished the last bite of potatoes and brought my dish to the sink.

  After changing into another of Carter's old sweaters and jeans, I took off my house boots and slipped into the farm boots. The air was biting as I shrugged on my coat and stepped out back. I could feel my lashes form tiny icicles as I headed toward the barn.