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

by Elizabeth Lynx

  I swatted at his shoulder. "Let me guess, you're a big flirt."

  "Something like that."

  We chuckled before our amusement was cut off.

  "I'm right here," Carter said from his hospital bed.

  Mr. Grumpington struck again.

  I glared at Carter. "We know."

  "I should get back to my patients," Dr. Ferguson said as he threw his thumb over his shoulder.

  "What patients?" Carter narrowed his eyes at the doctor. "This is a hospital for humans. You're a veterinarian."

  "Carter, don't be rude. Dr. Ferguson was nice enough to help me get here. If he hadn't shown up to check on your sheep, I would probably be dead in a ditch trying to drive your truck here after the ambulance showed up. I never knew there were ambulances with plows on the front. Learn something new every day."

  Dr. Ferguson showed up as I attempted to help Carter down from the loft. Thankfully, the vet had a cell phone to call the ambulance. Then he was nice enough to assist me with getting to the hospital.

  "You tried to drive my truck? Just last week you didn't even know how to turn it on."

  "That was last week. I know lots of things now."

  Which was the absolute truth. I learned you don't put your hand in a sheep's mouth as they might accidentally bite you but since they have no upper teeth it doesn’t hurt. I discovered potatoes don't just cook themselves if left in a hot pan. And today, I learned I couldn't pull a two-hundred-pound male down a ladder from a loft while he had a broken arm.

  As my father always said, "The best learning is discovering by doing." I thought he meant going to the tailor to get his suits fitted, but it turned out his words applied to so much more than just clothing.

  "Hope you feel better soon, Carter. I'll stop by later this week to check the sheep."

  "How will you get back since we took Carter's truck? If you want, I can drive you somewhere."

  Dr. Ferguson's eyes widened, and he held up his hands as if I was pointing a gun at his chest.

  "Oh, no. You take care of Carter. I'll take a cab."

  Carter grunted while turning his head. Dr. Ferguson obviously knew him as he took that as his cue to leave.

  "I was hoping the fall would knock some kindness into you, but I was very much mistaken. In fact, I think it made your grumpiness worse. Since we're here in the hospital, maybe they could check for grouchy hermit disease."

  "You can go now, too."

  I could tell Carter wanted to fold his arms, but with his newly fitted cast on his arm, it made it difficult. That was entertaining. I felt popcorn should be made as I watched Carter struggle with his limited dexterity, and how he was forced to stay put instead of running off to hide in a bathroom.

  "Are you in pain? Do you need me to call the nurse?"

  "No. I didn't even want what they gave me. That's what the pharmaceutical companies want. They want you to get all the drugs at the hospital for pain and then before you know it, boom, you're hooked. We will not be filling any prescription they give me. Besides, a little discomfort will remind me not to argue with a woman while fixing a roof."

  As tired as I was of Carter's attitude, I felt guilty about his fall. I distracted him when he was in a dangerous situation. The more time I spent here on this mountain, the more I realized I let my emotions dictate everything in my life.

  If something was difficult and made me unhappy, I wouldn't do it. If something made me happy, I indulged. And not one of my friends or my family—except for Bea—would call me on it. I was beginning to discover I was a spoiled little rich girl . . . Just like Derrick had said to my cousin.

  "When I make a mistake, Carter, I own up to it. I am sorry for saying all those bad things about you and calling you mad."

  He glanced up with reluctance, but it faded as he stared at me. "It's fine. Thank you for attempting to help me after the fall. And, especially, for stopping your attempt to carry me down from the loft. I'm more thankful for that than anything, actually."

  "I thought after working on the farm all this time that I was stronger than I turned out to be."

  "You weren't. You really, really weren't."

  "Hi, Mr. Fitzwilliam, I'm your afternoon nurse, Molly. I'm taking over for Delila. How are you feeling?" A cheerful woman pushed aside the blue curtain that separated Carter's bed from the other patient's.

  There wasn't a lot of privacy here. I was used to large hospital rooms with leather couches and big screen televisions. My mother often had work done, and Bea and I would visit when she came out of surgery. Her room looked like something from the Astoria compared to this place.

  And the color scheme left much to be desired. I don't know who was in charge of decor for this hospital, but they should be fired. The pastel blues and greens with a creamy white wall looked like they were going for a 1980s themed beach party held in a bathroom—complete with an aroma of disinfectant, occasional urine odor, and something that smelled like decay. Nothing about this place felt like it invoked healing.

  "I'm ready to leave," Carter ground out as his eyes glared at Molly.

  "Then it's a good thing I got the release papers right here." She walked over and rolled the movable bed table over. She slid a few papers toward Carter and handed him a pen. He quickly signed.

  "Here are the care instructions. Do not attempt to do anything with your arm until you come back to visit the doctor. Luckily, it was only a slight fracture and doesn't require surgery. When Dr. Semego sees you, she'll most likely give you a prescription for physical therapy. But, until then, you are not to use that arm."

  "But I'm a sheep farmer. I use both of my arms every day. What am I going to do with one arm?"

  For the first time since Carter had arrived, he appeared worried. Even when I set fire to the blanket, he couldn't stop talking about, he didn't appear this scared. Now I felt worse than before. Not only did I cause physical damage to his body, but now I was affecting his living.

  "I'm afraid you will have to get some help. Most patients with broken arms think up clever ways to work around it, but something like farming . . . well, you'll be limited. I'm sure you can ask a family member or a friend to help."

  Molly gathered the papers from the table. "Looks like everything is in order. You're all set to leave. Have a pleasant day."

  "Of course," Carter grumbled, though his usual irritated expression was more worried than angry.

  She smiled at the both of us before she closed the curtain behind her.

  Carter turned his attention from the closed curtain to me. "Did you pack up and hide the stuff at the cabin before you left?"

  "Oh, I didn't think to do that. Sorry."

  His jaw tightened. "We need to leave. Now."

  I grabbed Carter's good arm and began to pull.

  "Is there anyone I can call for you, Carter? I'm sure one of your friends will help."

  Would any of my friends help if something like this happened to me? I thought about it and remembered the time I had some dental surgery and was too drugged up on pain medicine to do anything for two days. The only one, other than the servants, that volunteered to help me was Bea. Not even my good friend, Mandi, reached out to me, not a text or phone call. It was as if I fell off the planet until I was well enough to go shopping or to parties again.

  "What are you doing?" He tried to escape my grasp and purposely dodged my question.

  "Helping you out of here. I'm going to take you home."

  "You're going to drive? But you said yourself Dr. Ferguson had to help you drive here. How are you going to drive me?"

  My lips flapped as I blew air out of them. "You'll be there. If I am not stopping in time, you can do what the doctor did . . . scream. I knew when that happened it was time for me to act."

  Carter's mouth opened and his rosy cheeks faded until I thought I needed to call Molly again. He shook his head and with a whimper, let me help him out of bed.

  The doctor had cut away his shirt and coat when he got to the hospital. Dr. F
erguson had mentioned for me to bring some extra clothing just in case, and I was thankful he had. I helped Carter wrestle the sweater over his cast, but we gave up.

  After getting a pair of scissors from the nurses' station, I set about cutting out the arm from the sweater he partially had on.

  "Whatever you do, Olivia, do not nick a vein."

  I rolled my eyes. "I'll be careful."

  And he thought I was over dramatic.

  The sleeve was removed with only two jabs to his skin and not a drop of blood was shed. That's what I call success.

  He moved slowly out of the building and into the parking lot, occasionally looking back at the hospital with longing. How could anyone want to spend more time in that interior designers' nightmare? I chalked it up to the pain affecting his senses.

  I opened the truck door and helped him inside before running over to the driver's side. "Ready for some excitement?"

  With a grin I turned the key to the vehicle, but nothing happened.

  "Maybe I should drive."

  "No, you are in pain. Your need to rest."

  I bit my nail trying to figure out why the truck wouldn't start.

  "I still think it would be safer if I drove."

  Taking a breath, I shifted in my seat to look at Carter. "You don't trust I can do this, do you?"

  "I believe you think you can drive . . ." His mouth thinned and it appeared as if he was holding in a fart.

  That's the attitude that led me to being spoiled. When I came here last week, I didn't even know how to make my own plate of food, expecting him to serve me. But that was the old Olivia. The new Olivia not only tried to do things herself, she mastered them with ease.

  "I may have only been taught how to drive a truck for the first time today . . . Which, I am learning isn't always like driving a car. Or maybe it is, I don't know. I haven't driven a car in about twelve years when I got my license, but I'm a quick learner. I'll have you know that I got straight As in high school. I'm not stupid, Carter."

  "I'm not saying you're dumb, Olivia. I already had one near-death experience today. Well, two, if you count when you tried to drag me down the ladder from the loft after I fell. I really don't want another one."

  I gave him my winning smile. It was an actual award-winning grin—I won best smile in the Washington, DC Socialite magazine two years in a row.

  Reaching over, I patted his knee. "Not to worry. Just remember to scream if I'm about to hit something." I tapped my head with my finger. "Remember, Carter, I'm a super quick learner."

  I started the truck, realizing I hadn't had my foot on the break before. As I backed out of the parking space, I heard Carter whimper again.

  TEN

  Carter

  "Oh my God . . . uh, golly goodness, food. I'm stopping." Olivia jerked the vehicle toward an empty parking space just outside the Fire and Ice diner. I held my breath, covered my eyes, and grasped at hope with a death grip.

  In the fifteen minutes it took to get from the hospital to here, I had easily lost five years of my life and shredded my voice. I screamed, loudly and more than I care to admit.

  The door creaked open, followed by a blast of chilled air. Still frozen in place from three almost perilous accidents, I sat refusing to lower my hand from my eyes.

  "Is this hell? Are we dead?"

  A playful tap warmed my leg, and the heat trailed up to the apex between my thighs. How could my body mess with me like that? One minute I'm frightened that I'd never see Kitty or the sheep again, and the next, Olivia's touch had me remembering when I almost kissed her.

  I did everything but kiss her. I felt her up and nuzzled her neck. It felt so good. She was so warm but I wouldn't be surprised if it was our physical attraction that caused the crack in the branch that fell on the cabin. I know it happened after the branch fell, but nature anticipated it. Our bodies were never meant to touch. We created an unsettling disruption in Mother Nature that chipped away at its balance. It made sense.

  A woman as beautiful and soft as Olivia, who had never seen a washing machine in her life, did not belong with me. I had lived alone for the past two years, without a soul needed—okay, except for the occasional question at the grocery store or for someone to tell me what I owned when I bought my coffee in town.

  The point was, she needed people; I didn't.

  "You can stop cowering, we're here."

  I lowered my hand and blinked. We were alive. I'd hug her but the last time I did that a roof caved in.

  "Yes," I whispered.

  For the first time in years, it felt good to be alive.

  I hopped out of the car, closed the door, and practically skipped to the front door. Olivia stared at me as I held the front door to the diner open for her. With a grin.

  "I don't understand you, Carter. Once minute you're Mr. Grumpington and the next, you act like a kid."

  "So, I'm adorable and childlike?" With a quizzical stare, I followed her into the diner as she glanced around for a table.

  "No. After all we've been through today—"

  "You mean what I've been through today. I'm the one that had to go to the emergency room."

  My eyes zeroed in on her butt as she bounced on her tiptoes and pointed to a booth by the window. The woman exuded happiness at all times. It was cute and as much as I learned about her from our time together, her reactions still brought a smile to my face.

  Except for today when I told her to go away while I was on the roof.

  It was the first time I had seen her heartbroken. I knew it wasn't me she was upset about. Olivia wouldn't have feelings for a scruffy farmer that would rather spend his time with dirty animals than with humans.

  She wanted to help, and I did nothing but yell at her whenever she tried. It wasn't right of me. She loved to learn, and that's something that should never be squashed.

  Olivia slid into the booth and I lifted my broken arm, pushing myself into the other side.

  "It doesn't matter. What's important is that I'm being honest. I called you Mr. Grumpington because you're not exactly a ray of sunshine every day."

  I shrugged and glanced out the window. "That's true. But you shouldn't call people names."

  Why did I feel like I was eight years old again defending my father?

  The warmth of her hand as she placed hers on mine brought my attention back to Olivia. As the light from the window fell on her wavy locks, it appeared as if glitter floated around her head. That's where she belonged—surrounded by light and warmth and everything that's golden. Not restricted by old wood, mud, and sheep poop.

  "It was wrong of me. I'm sorry. But you have to admit, you do love to complain about me."

  No, I didn't . . . did I?

  I thought back over the past eleven days when she attempted to help with chores and ended up dying all the sheets pink. Her eyes wide with hope and when I saw the beds, instead of thanking her for trying, I yelled and told Olivia never to do a load of laundry again.

  "It's not—"

  "Here are your menus." The waitress with a head full of graying curls handed over a large plastic menu. "Hey! I know you. You're the coffee guy. Never seen you sit down for food before."

  "I guess there's a first time for everything," I grumbled and raised the taupe-colored menu up to my face.

  "This is where you buy that amazing coffee? Let's get a big bag of it. I want to bring it back to DC when I leave."

  I swallowed, suddenly uncomfortable at the thought of Olivia leaving. Must be the pain I'm in that's causing me to be overly emotional. Olivia just mentioned how my temper had been fluctuating up and down.

  "You're from DC? We had a young woman last week in here from DC, too. Maybe you know her?"

  I shook my head. That was one of the reasons why I didn't go around having conversations with people, or being social as Olivia put it. People had the most ridiculous ideas. Because someone was from a certain place, they must know everyone from there.

  I'm from DC, but I had never met
Olivia before last week.

  "Did she have short brown hair that dusted her chin?"

  I lowered my menu enough to stare at Olivia.

  "Yes. And the most beautiful brown eyes. Just like yours. Hey, are you related to her?"

  Olivia nodded. "That must have been Bea, my sister. Was she asking about me? I'm Olivia, by the way." She reached out her hand to the waitress. "Olivia Love."

  "Yes! Love. I thought it was such an adorable name. It must have been your sister. She left a letter here for you." The waitress began to step away but stopped and turned back. "I'm Debbie. I own the diner with my hubby, Jack, who is in the back cooking."

  "Nice to meet you, Debbie. It's so refreshing to talk to another person after over a week."

  "Hey," I said setting my menu on the table.

  "You know what I mean. It's nice to have a conversation with someone who likes to be social." Olivia nodded as if that explained everything.

  "I'll go get that letter. You two take your time deciding." Debbie walked off with a smirk.

  "It's not like I had much choice in the matter."

  "Choice in what? Having me as a temporary roommate?" Olivia said absently as she gazed at the menu.

  I leaned toward her. "That, yes, but also in how I was raised. No one has a choice in that. Living out here with only sheep to keep me company . . . how do you expect a man to act?"

  Olivia raised her head from the menu and rubbed her lips together. It dawned on me what I meant and what I said were two very different things. "I didn't mean that. I don't . . . uh, being with a . . ."

  "A what, Carter?" Her mouth twitched.

  "It doesn't matter. Looks like your family was searching for you after all. That's good. You'll be home before you know it." I raised the menu again, hoping she'd be tempted enough to talk about her sister so as to never bring up what I said again.

  The waitress came back over, handing an envelope to Olivia. "Here you go, darling. It must have been your sister. The letter is addressed to you. Have you two decided yet?"

  "Yes, we will both have large cups of your highest quality hot chocolate. And, I'll have a large salad and a fruit cup. After almost two weeks of meat and potatoes, I need my vitamins." She handed back the menu.