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

by Elizabeth Lynx

  "You have to stop Dad from doing that, Bea. Derrick isn't who everyone thinks he is. He's the devil."

  "Tell me something I don't know." I could hear Bea's snort and smiled.

  I glanced up to see Dr. Ferguson coming back.

  "I'll talk to you later about it. I have to go."

  "At least tell me where you're staying. Is it at The Lodge?"

  "No, it's in a cabin. A sheep farm."

  "Sheep? You've been with sheep?"

  "It's not like I sleep in the barn. I am sleeping in the cabin with the sheep farmer."

  "Oh. Ooh! I get it. Getting a little farmer action. No wonder I hadn't heard from you."

  "It's not like that. Bea, I really have to go. I'll call you tomorrow."

  Just before I slid the end call button, I heard Bea mention climbing a mountain. It was most likely a joke at my expense.

  "Talk to your sister?" The vet slid back into his chair.

  I handed over the phone. "Yes, thank you, Dr. Ferguson. I needed to speak with her."

  "Glad I could help. And please, call me Tyler. I was hoping the food would be here by the time I came back. I love when that happens."

  I nodded but turned my head toward the window, the realization that Derrick didn't need me to follow through on his plans left a knot in my stomach. I was a stepping stone and now that I was out of the way, he wormed his way into my father's heart.

  I would look like that selfish, spoiled daughter and he would be the bright potential son-in-law my father never had.

  "Here you go. Egg white omelet, whole wheat toast with peanut butter, and a fruit cup. Oh, and black coffee."

  Fascination had my eyes admire the man about to consume the healthy meal.

  "That's your usual?" I couldn't help the surprise in my voice.

  He nodded, placing his paper napkin on his lap. "Yes. I know it's doesn't sound good, but I love it. It's better to eat some boring food so I can be healthy and have a chance at a long life, than constantly indulge, knowing life will only go downhill for me. Physically, I mean."

  "Yeah, physically."

  Thoughts of Carter and his arm popped in my head. Unlike Tyler, Carter ate the opposite of healthy. Everything was fried in a pan. Carter was like my dad when it came to food. Both men liked to indulge on a regular basis in all the things that should only be eaten in moderation. For my dad it’s cakes and desserts. For Carter it’s anything salty, fatty and fried.

  It made me worry about what would happen to Carter over time. While the arm was temporary, if he kept eating that way and was all alone, who would take care of him as he got older?

  At least my father had people around him and could afford the best doctors, but Carter didn’t have that.

  "Is there a grocery store close by?"

  Tyler nodded, putting down his fork and wiping his mouth with a napkin. He pointed out the window. "When you leave here, make a right and two blocks down, across the street is a small grocery store, Town Grocery. Not the cleverest of names, but no one ever got confused as to what the shop sold."

  I made a mental note to go there after breakfast to pick up some fruits and vegetables to bring back to the cabin. Perhaps eating better might make Carter less grumpy . . . though, he'd been in a better mood since I'd helped out.

  "You never said what was wrong with Carter?" Tyler's lips curled as if he could read my mind.

  "It's how he's been acting. Usual. But I've only known him for a little over two weeks. Maybe you would know better than me. How long have you known Carter?"

  Tyler sat back and rubbed his chin. There was a bit of brown scruff as if he hadn't shaved in a few days. I began to notice the lines on his face. The pretty boy doctor that I met several days ago didn't have the same gleam he once did.

  "I'd say over twenty years. I was born and raised here, but Carter moved here from DC"

  My smile faded. I shook my head, wondering if I was hearing things. "You mean Washington, DC?"

  "Yes. I remember because my dad recognized his father immediately. Went up to Carter's dad when they first moved here. But after that meeting, my father took me aside and told me to never mention who Carter or Carter's dad were to anyone. That I was to explain to anyone who asked that Carter and his dad were regular folk who moved here from down south."

  I tried to swallow but it stuck in my throat. Faint pieces to an unsolved puzzle from my youth were falling into place. Pieces I wanted to solve, that everyone I knew wanted to figure out. But from what I'd seen the past few weeks, I was beginning to realize that some puzzles were best left unsolved.

  "I'm sure he's told you about moving here. What happened to his mother and sister . . . Tragic."

  We both stared at the table. Both of us knew the truth. Only Tyler knew one half of the puzzle, as did I, with Carter being the only person who could fill in the other half.

  "Yes, tragic."

  But was Tyler thinking of the same person I was? As I thought about Carter and what he might have been like as a little boy, I came to a decision. I didn't want to know the answer. That it wasn't Tyler's answer to give, and I knew if I brought the question up to Carter, he would never tell me.

  Therefore, I wasn't to know. Carter was just a farmer who moved up here with his dad from the south when he was young.

  I needed to change the subject. Something light, happy, and nothing involving the past.

  "Got a big day at the vet?"

  Not the savviest change of topic but it had to do.

  "Have to travel to the Daly's farm to check on their cows. I'm going to be overworked next week and might have to give up breakfast at the diner for a while. My assistant goes on maternity leave next week, and I haven't had time to find a temp to replace her."

  I bet I could learn about sheep from Tyler. If I helped him with whatever an assistant did, maybe he would teach me about sheep.

  "I could help you out. Most of the things I have to help Carter with are early in the morning. If you need someone, perhaps I could come in the afternoons to help."

  His eyes widened. "Really? You would be the answer to my prayers, Olivia. Are you sure Carter wouldn't mind?"

  Oh, he'd absolutely mind. I can almost hear him now, grumbling about how I could barely hack it as a sheep farmer, how was I supposed to help a vet. But I didn't care. I wanted to learn about sheep and animals and work toward my recently unearthed dream of becoming a sheep farmer.

  "I'm sure he'd be happy to be rid of me."

  FOURTEEN

  Carter

  "I'm sweating," Olivia said with a groan.

  "It's probably your body rejecting all those vegetables you ate," I said, remembering how my body had felt earlier.

  "A salad is good for you. It isn't my fault that your body rejects anything remotely healthy. How can some leafy greens and a few chopped carrots and celery cause a grown man to spend an hour in the bathroom? I had to open the back and front door to air the place out."

  I couldn't help the smug smile and rumble of laughter. It became my goal over the past few days to gross Olivia out as much as possible. Maybe that made me childish, but it's not like I had much of a childhood. I'm sure in some places my father would have been arrested for child labor. But he taught me a strong work ethic and the ability to survive on almost nothing if it came to it.

  "Man cannot live on salad alone."

  I was learning that Olivia couldn't just pick up one thing when she's out running an errand. When she went to pick up some coffee beans from the Fire and Ice diner today, she came home with a heap of vegetables. It got worse when she made a salad with dinner and expected me to eat the stuff. I did my best to force the salad down my throat but I'm a firm believer that if you can't cook a piece of food, it's not worth eating.

  I'm the evil villain to the raw food movement.

  I heard the sheets shift and turned my head to see Olivia sit up.

  "Then how do you explain vegans, Truck Butt?"

  "Do I have to? Why don't we wait until we
run into one? They usually explain it before they're even asked."

  I stared up from my mattress that was on the bedroom floor as Olivia's soft lips formed an O. Maybe that was why I taunted her so much—her expressions were the stuff of fantasies. Did she realize I savored watching her lips move, picturing my dick sliding in between them?

  "Not all vegans are bad. I once had a friend who was vegan. She was always nice."

  I sat up, turning toward her. "You had a friend. Had. When was the last time you talked to her?"

  Olivia's brow scrunched as she licked her bottom lip. See, total fantasy material.

  "It has been a long time. I would say three years ago."

  "And when did she turn vegan?"

  "Three years ago . . ."

  I lifted my finger that wasn't surrounded by a cast up in the air. "My point exactly."

  Since the hole in the roof wasn't completely fixed, I was sleeping on a mattress on the floor of the bedroom while Olivia slept in the bed. The past several nights hadn't been the most restful.

  I discovered something about my beautiful, helpful guest—she snored.

  "None of that helps the heat. I don't understand. A week ago, I couldn't get out of here because of all the snow, ice, and freezing temperatures. Now, it's midnight and I could walk outside in a light jacket and be fine. Is it spring?"

  Olivia lifted the hair from her back and fanned her neck. With my eyes adjusted to the dark and the faint glow of the moonlight from the window, I could see her skin glisten. I bet she tasted salty and sweet, just like caramel popcorn.

  "Spring is still several weeks away. Tomorrow is the first day of March."

  "Then why is it so hot? Is this normal?"

  "No. But there's the occasional warm winter day that happens every few years. It'll make dealing with the sheep tomorrow extra messy." I made a face to emphasise my point.

  There were a few things I'd learned about Olivia since living with her. Despite not understanding basic self-care until she came here, she was a hard worker. Olivia loved bacon and hot chocolate. But what she hated above all else were any gross messes. The slimier and grimier, the more she acted as if the world would end.

  "Ugh! And I was getting used to stepping on the frozen poop that doesn't stick to your boots. We need to think of something else or I'm going to be sick."

  "Aren't we supposed to be going to sleep? It's past midnight."

  "But I can't sleep. And, it seems you're not sleeping, either. Oh, I know. Let's play a game."

  I knew I was childish with my pranks and grumpy meltdowns, but I found Olivia was child-like with everything else. Every night with her in the bedroom was like a sixth-grade sleepover. Or, what I imagined a kid's sleepover would be, having never experienced one personally.

  "What game?"

  "Truth or dare," she said, and my heart started to beat faster.

  The last time I played that game, I ended up having sex with the other game player. Not that the same thing would happen with Olivia, but the thought was causing the blood to race to my thighs.

  "Okay. You start." I tried my best to sound relaxed as if the idea of playing this with her wasn't causing every muscle in my body to tighten.

  "Truth or dare?"

  Fearful of what she might dare me with to get me back for the days of teasing her, I picked truth.

  "Where were you born?"

  I shifted my gaze to the floor. Why would she ask that? Did she know? No, she couldn't. When I played the game before we started off with easy, light questions. Perhaps to Olivia, where a person was born was not that important.

  Just telling her the location of my birth wasn't going to affect her. I was overthinking this.

  "Georgetown University Hospital."

  She was from DC. I would be surprised if she hadn't heard of the hospital.

  I watched Olivia's face for surprise or shock or any realization of what that meant. But for the first time since she'd arrived, I found nothing. She was expressionless, if that was even possible. I couldn't tell if she was happy or sad or even gassy.

  "Your turn to ask me, Carter." There was a wobble in her voice. Maybe? Did I imagine that?

  I loved playing this game the first time, all those years ago. Also, in a bedroom. But this time, I wanted it to end. Perhaps Olivia had some things she didn't wish to discuss.

  "What other things did Derrick do that spooked you into running from your wedding?"

  An expression finally appeared on her face and it wasn't happy. "No, you have to ask me truth or dare."

  "Fine. Truth or dare?"

  She straightened her shoulders and sighed. "Dare."

  Of course, she was going to say that now that she knew the truth I was going to ask her. But what she didn't realize was that I could dare her with something that would cause her to immediately end the game.

  "I dare you to kiss me."

  Her surprise was my fantasy. Olivia's lips perfectly shaped to slip anything I wanted inside. Her eyes big and round were staring at me, growing darker by the second.

  I must have been imagining it. It was dark in the room . . . It was only my mind playing a trick on me. I wanted that to be true but knew she would object, and then the game would be no more.

  "Okay."

  If ever there was a word that could cause my heart to race, my skin to break out into a sweat, and my dick to harden in seconds, it was that word falling from Olivia's lips. It was also the way she said it that made my fantasies about her lips seem moronic in comparison.

  Her mouth curled in one corner and as if to stop it from going too far, she nibbled on her bottom lip. Even in the moonlight, I saw her chest rise and fall a little more rapidly than before.

  "I don't think it's a good idea for me to dare you to kiss me. That doesn't seem like a good idea . . .. Why don't I change it to something else?" The more I spoke, the closer she came.

  Why would she want to kiss me? She must be up to something. Maybe she would get right to my lips and then pull away as if it was all a joke.

  Olivia got up from her bed and, in my old long john top and silky bare legs, she sauntered over to my mattress. Her knees hit the blanket as she knelt before me.

  "I'll tell you what . . . Let's not play the game anymore." Her voice was deeper than usual, and she was staring at my lips.

  "Good idea. It's for kids anyway. Besides, it's getting late and we should really get to sleep."

  Olivia nodded. "I did want to ask you one more question before we go to bed."

  "Of course. Anything." I swallowed, desperately trying to focus on her eyes and not her nipples that were poking at the thick beige fabric of her top.

  "Do you want to kiss me?"

  Ugh, any question but that.

  "I plead the fifth."

  She got down on her hands and crawled toward me. She stalked me like a cat—a super sexy cat that my dick desperately strained to pet.

  "This is a bedroom, in a cabin, hidden in the woods. Not a court of law. There's no one to hear you scream." Her gaze was searing and said more than her words ever could.

  I had trouble swallowing.

  "Very funny. I don't think you could make me scream."

  That was meant to be light, but my voice went down an octave. I thought about backing away but the wood-burning stove was in my way. It needed to be cleaned and midnight was not the time to get it done. Unless I wanted my back covered in soot, I stayed put as Olivia crawled closer until those fantastic lips of hers were a mere inch from mine.

  "I don't know about that, Carter. Is that a dare? I have been trained in kickboxing and various other martial arts."

  I ignored her so-called training. I couldn't imagine that she spent much time fighting thugs at high-society parties.

  This wasn't a game anymore. Her eyes meant business. Her lips wanted to take control. And my body was begging to let her walk all over me.

  "I thought we weren't playing truth or dare anymore?"

  "We aren't."


  Her words hung in the air, muffling my voice. I wanted to speak. Tell her it wasn't a good idea. That she was my friend—the first friend I'd had since I was a kid. I didn't want to lose that.

  What if we took things too far and she went back to DC? She was from a city where lots of guys—guys who had more to offer than I ever could—could easily win Olivia over.

  Stuck in my cabin, of course, I looked good to her. I was the only thing around.

  I couldn't lose my only friend. My world would shatter if I lost Olivia. But I would never tell her that.

  "You never answered me, Carter. Do you want to kiss me?"

  For the first time since the day I fell from the roof, I saw a flicker of pain. I recognized that look from a mile away. My father wore it for years the day after my eighth birthday.

  "More than anything."

  It was the truth. I may not want to lose her, but I'd do anything to make Olivia happy.

  Her brow furrowed but the hurt that was there melted. I let out a puff of air in relief. A few strands of golden hair fluttered over her face, landing on her nose. I lifted my fingers and brushed the hair away but realized too late it was a mistake.

  Olivia, in my hormone-induced fog, took advantage and grabbed my hand. In a sexual hypnosis, I sat and watched as she began to do obscene things to my hand.

  "Is it okay if I lick your fingers?"

  I nodded, helpless in the moment.

  When she slipped one finger into her mouth, I gurgled as if I had indigestion. It was a half moan, half body seizure. I was no longer in control. Olivia had me and I never wanted it any other way.

  I never thought having my finger sucked would feel so incredible. I refused to look away and when her tongue swirled over my fingernail, I groaned.

  Olivia pulled my hand away and as she sat back, I thought the moment was over. I should be relieved—no complications to end our friendship. However, what I felt was worse—disappointment.

  She didn't want me. Olivia was testing the waters, and I was too cold for her liking.

  I had no idea what she wanted in a sexual relationship, but I was pretty sure it wasn't me. Her eyes examined me like a vet with a sick animal.

  I was broken, both inside and out. Maybe if I had been more social or didn't run the first time we did more than hug, I'd have her moaning against my touch right now. I shifted and leaned back against the wall, avoiding the wood-burning stove, deflating against the hard surface.