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

by Elizabeth Lynx

  He did mention me going back with my sister. Maybe that's what Carter wanted?

  The bedroom door swung open and Carter stood there, Kitty at his feet, with a tray.

  "Breakfast in bed," he announced in the worst British accent I have ever heard.

  Shaking my head, I felt my cheeks warm. I should stop jumping to wild conclusions.

  I grabbed a tangled blue throw on top of the bedspread and wrapped it around my shoulders as I sat up.

  Carter stopped moving closer to the bed. "Don't cover up."

  His frown was ridiculous and adorable, and I couldn't help but laugh.

  "It's cold." I pulled the blanket closer to my body.

  With a groan, Carter finally came over, placing the tray across my lap.

  "Fine, but can I watch you take a bath?"

  "That sounds a bit creepy."

  His lips pursed and he nodded. "It did. I knew it as soon as I said it. I went too far."

  I reached up, cupping his cheek. "You're adorable."

  Taking my hand to his lips, Carter kissed the inside of my palm. "And you're sexy."

  With his broken arm, as if I wouldn't notice, he brushed back the blanket draped across my chest, exposing my nipple. Tilting his head, he unleashed the puppy dog eyes on me.

  "Fine, but I'll only expose one. Which boob do you want? Boob A or boob B?" I pointed to each breast accordingly while lifting the steaming mug of coffee to my lips.

  "How can I choose? If I pick boob A, with its cute little freckle just above your nipple and perfect upturn, then I miss out on boob B's instant attraction."

  "Instant attraction?"

  His answer came in a demonstration. Carter brushed aside the blanket and with one of the fingers protruding from his cast, he lightly brushed it across the tip of my nipple. I watched in fascination as it quickly puckered.

  Then he did the same to boob A, only that nipple started to tighten but changed its mind halfway.

  "You only get to choose one despite each boob's unique qualities."

  He groaned and rubbed his face as if I asked him to choose between his sheep and Kitty.

  "You're a farmer, Carter. You knew there would be days when you'd have to make tough decisions."

  I tried to keep the grin from rising but when he pulled at his hair, struggling to decide, laughter bubbled up from my throat.

  "You laugh, but what if I made you choose between my butt cheeks?"

  I rolled my top lip between my teeth and nodded. "I don't know. I think the butt is a much different animal than the breasts. The backside needs to be viewed together rather than separately to be truly appreciated. Whereas one boob is much more appealing than one butt cheek."

  Carter covered his butt with his cast, mouth wide in shock. He had flannel pj's on, so it wasn't as if I could see anything. I rolled my eyes.

  "I thought you liked my butt. But you obviously think it can't ever be as sexy as your high and mighty chest."

  "I've never had anyone call my boobs high and mighty, but I guess there's a first time for everything," I said with a giggle.

  I reached toward him but Carter turned away, "No. My butt is no laughing matter."

  I wondered for a moment if he was serious. Did I hurt him by comparing his butt to my boobs?

  "Carter, I'm sorry. The last thing I would ever think is that any part of your body was unattractive. Even when I first came here—that first morning—I couldn't help but stare at your butt. It's hot. You're hot."

  I never knew Carter lacked self-confidence about his body. It didn't make sense. The man was the definition of utter control and cool last night as he stood naked doing what he wanted to me. A shudder ran down my spine as I remembered how his fingers dug into my flesh.

  Carter's eyes slid to mine as his lips wobbled. "To make up for it, you need to show me both your breasts."

  "You big faker. That was your plan all along."

  He shrugged his shoulder. "You're right. One butt cheek isn't as hot as one breast, but if it got you to show me both of yours, then what is the harm."

  "You would guilt me into showing you my boobs? What sort of monster are you?"

  "A horny one."

  I should be pissed but heat flooded between my thighs instead. The man still wanted me—he wasn't using me for my name or my money. I turned him on, and he felt comfortable enough around me to joke about his body.

  "Fine. I'll remove the blanket. You win this time, farmer."

  His eyes were glued to my chest as I let the blanket slip from my shoulders and pool around my waist.

  "God, you are gorgeous. Can I kiss them?"

  After last night, he could do anything he wanted to them.

  "Yes."

  He turned and took the tray of food and placed it on the floor.

  "Kitty's going to get my breakfast."

  I may be horny too, but I was also hungry.

  "Let her. I'll make you all the bacon and eggs you want after I finish with you." The same darkness from last night fell over his gaze as he stared at me.

  It was as if a switch was flipped and Carter turned on the beast. I groaned and my thighs became slippery with need.

  I didn't wait for him to instruct me; I knew what the man wanted. Throwing back the covers, I turned to face him and opened my legs.

  His molten stare slid down my body and I trailed my fingers after it. My hand cupped my core.

  "Don't hide from me, Olivia."

  "Then don't hide from me," I said as I stared pointedly at his shirt and pj's.

  He quirked his lips and slid off his top. His erection was bowing the front of his pj's and when he pulled them down, his cock sprung to life. The man looked like a wet dream, especially when his hand gripped his hard dick and began to stroke.

  The dishes clanked and I could see Kitty burying her nose in my breakfast. Carter noticed my distraction and quickly rectified it by putting the tray into the hall. Kitty followed and he closed the door behind her.

  "Are you playing with yourself, Olivia?" Carter asked, still facing the door.

  "No."

  "Why not? Your hand should be dripping by the time I turn back to you."

  His words held power over me. I didn't think, I could only react. My body pulsed, and I felt the heat escape from the apex of my thighs. A groan escaped my lips when I pushed two fingers inside myself, the memory of how he watched me last night as he did that to me flooding my mind.

  My thumb rubbed my clit like it had the past two-and-a-half weeks when I knew he was working in the barn and I had a few minutes to myself.

  "Like this?" I asked, not because I wanted his opinion but rather, to get him to eat me with his eyes.

  I planted my foot on the bed, spreading wider for Carter as he turned. The only indication I had an effect on him was the slight flare of his nose. I swear, the man was like granite.

  Stepping closer, his large, wooden cock bobbed until he stood an inch from me. A bead of precum formed on the tip but he wouldn't touch himself.

  "Yes, Olivia, just like that. But you look bored. Aren't you enjoying yourself?"

  Bending slightly, Carter reached for my boob and flicked his thumb over my nipple. I clenched my jaw as the pleasure pulsed down to where I was riding my hand.

  "Yes. Again." I arched my back, pushing my chest to him.

  "You're so sensitive. Maybe a little twist. Would that be too much?"

  "Not too much. Do it, please."

  His fingers clamped down and as he turned my spiked tip, stars floated over my eyes. Wave after excruciating wave of erotic pain convulsed through me.

  "Yes. Carter. More."

  His fingers pulled away and went to my other breast, twisting and pinching until I had to lift my hips to ride my hand harder, faster.

  Then his hand pulled back, slapping at the tip of my breast and that sent me over the edge. I groaned as the lightning bolt of euphoria shot down my body.

  "I'm coming."

  The wave crested, and I wanted
nothing more than for Carter to do whatever he wanted to me at this moment. As if Carter could read my mind, that's exactly what he did.

  His hand lifted to my head and he curled his fingers into my hair, pulling my head back. My mouth opened, and I watched as he lined his dripping cock to my lips. A quick glance was all he gave me before pushing himself inside.

  I wrapped my lips around him as my pussy contracted around my fingers. His hand held me in place as he pushed himself back and forth.

  "You like that, Olivia? God, your mouth is perfect for my dick."

  I just had an orgasm yet, I couldn't stop touching myself as he fucked my mouth. Every dirty thing he said or did to me made me want him more. It didn't take long until I was moaning around his cock as my climax hit.

  His fingers tightened in my hair and his cock thickened.

  "Oh, Olivia," he said with a stuttered gasp as Carter emptied into my mouth and down my throat.

  After a moment, he softened and released his fingers from my head. His fingers trailed down my cheek and as he slipped out of my mouth, his thumb swiped at my bottom lip.

  He sat next to me on the bed, pulling me into his lap. Carter nuzzled my neck and dotted it with kisses.

  "I don't want you to leave," he said and his arm tightened around my waist.

  I pulled back and lifted his chin until he would look at me. What I found was a man filled with worry.

  "Why would you think I want to leave?"

  His casted arm waved at the room. "I don't have much and I'm not a city boy. That's what you're used to . . . That's not me. I don't have a ballroom or a library or anything big enough to house those things. You're used to guys who can offer you luxury . . . I can only offer you bacon and eggs and a sheep-filled barn."

  "Again, this isn't the nineteenth century. I'm not looking for a grand estate and a titled gentleman."

  His eyes were wide with hope. My hand cupped his bearded cheek, and I had to kiss him. Even after what we just did, he seemed so innocent, like a little boy looking for his mother in a crowded shop.

  "Then what are you looking for, if anything at all?"

  I sighed against his lips and rubbed my forehead against his. "I wasn't really looking for anything. Considering I ran away from my fiancé a few weeks ago, I knew I needed a break."

  "Oh . . . Right. I understand."

  I climbed off his lap and kneeled between his legs. "I don't think you do. I wasn't searching for anyone, but I miraculously found the perfect man for me. He puts up this strong, cold front but underneath it all, he's kind, silly, and unbelievably sexy. I would be a fool to walk away from him."

  "I don't deserve you," he muttered more to himself than me, brushing the hair from my cheeks.

  "Do you need me to show you how much you deserve me?" I bit my bottom lip, crawled up his body, and kissed his ear.

  "Maybe you should. It's going to take a lot of work and long hours to get rid of this doubt." His hand slid to my ass, giving one cheek a healthy squeeze.

  My stomach grumbled.

  "Maybe we eat first, and then I'll get to removing that doubt." I winked and as we stood, I said, "I'll remove that doubt so hard." And then I slapped his ass before he had a chance to put back on his clothes.

  TWENTY-TWO

  Carter

  "Where did Olivia go?" I asked Bea as she sat with her feet on my kitchen table.

  Bea and I had a love-hate relationship. In the week Bea had been here, I was glad that she made Olivia happy and watched out for her sister. Bea grilled me the following day when we met at The Lodge restaurant for dinner.

  Olivia thought Bea had gone too far with her line of questioning, but I approved. If I wasn't around to take care of Olivia, I felt at ease knowing her sister would watch out for her.

  But Beatrice was spoiled. When I first met Olivia, I thought she was naïve and expected too much from me like I was her servant. But she quickly learned that real people take care of themselves.

  Beatrice was a hundred times worse than Olivia was. When she came to visit the "quaint farm" as she put it, we were to stop working and cater to whatever whim popped into her head. If she had the urge to shop, Olivia was expected to drive her around the mountain to different shops.

  If Bea wanted food, it wasn't good enough for me to cook dinner; she needed a top-rated chef to cook her meals. She liked the restaurant at The Lodge and found one in Hooksville—one town over—that she enjoyed.

  "I sent her to get some kumquats. I'm sure she'll be back soon. I wanted her to make a seasonal fruit salad, but you can't do winter fruits without kumquats."

  What the holy moly was this woman? Who spoke like that?

  I walked over and slapped her feet off my table.

  "Hey—"

  I bent down and got in her face. "You may be Olivia's sister but that doesn't give you the right to treat her like a servant. And, it may be okay where you're from to walk into people's homes and put your dirty boots on their furniture, but not where I'm from."

  She smiled. "No wonder my sister likes you." Bea shimmied her shoulders. "You're feisty."

  I straightened, tired of her opinions about me.

  "Do you want coffee?" I turned from Bea's assessment and walked over to the French press, which was still hot to the touch.

  "Yes. Love the coffee here. You should consider opening a coffee bar here. It would make a killing."

  "If you hadn't noticed yet, I'm a sheep farmer."

  "Yes. Unfortunately."

  I turned and glared at her. She held up her hands in surrender.

  "Hey, I'm not saying being a farmer is bad, it's just not as cute as it sounds. The things Ollie told me had bile rising in my throat. Kudos to you that you can deal with those animals every day. I have much more respect for where my food and clothing come from now. No more ordering multiple dishes because I can't decide and then throw away the food I don't touch."

  I wiped my hand down my face. Beatrice was the worst. No wonder my father warned me about the wealthy, especially the ones from Washington, DC.

  "Do people like you?" I asked as I folded my arms over my chest.

  "What? Of course. People love me," she said.

  My fear of Bea ended by the second day of her visit. Watching her order Olivia around like a maid and acting as if the wait staff didn't exist when we went out to eat made my stomach turn.

  "That's surprising." I turned back and poured out two cups of black coffee.

  Bringing one over to Beatrice, I placed it in front of her. Her hand reached out and clasped my wrist.

  "Don't you like me?"

  For a second, I felt bad about being cross with her. No matter how rude someone might be, it wasn't right to treat them poorly. My father taught me never to sink to their level. Unfortunately, when Bea curled her lips like an evil villain in a Hollywood movie, I remembered my father wasn't here.

  "No, I don't."

  "I would say you are the first person who has ever said that to me." She let go of my arm and stood and put her hands on her hips. "What is it about this place that makes someone want to better themselves?"

  I had no idea what she was going on about, but I hoped she meant working on her snooty attitude.

  "Perhaps it's not being surrounded by people who you pay to take care of you or only want you for your money."

  Her head reared back and even I thought I went too far.

  "I'm sorry. I barely know you, yet I'm not being nice."

  Bea took a breath and nodded. "I get it. You've got a chip on your shoulder toward anyone that comes from money. But that's a bit hypocritical of you, don't you think?"

  I assumed Beatrice was many things. Not many of those things were flattering, but I never thought she was delusional.

  "I don't know how much you believe a sheep farmer makes, but it's far from putting me in the rich category."

  "Your father. His name's Lorne, right?"

  My arms fell to my side. Fear that quickly turned to anger coursed through m
y veins.

  "How did you find out his name?"

  When my father was alive, he told anyone here that his name was Lee. The only people who knew his real name were back in DC, and those people thought he died decades ago. I remember reading the headline of the paper when I was ten that announced: Senator Lorne Fitzwilliam and Son Presumed Dead.

  I asked my father why everyone thought we were dead. He simply replied, "It's better this way. We'll be safe now."

  I thought the man who killed my mother and sister was after us, so I believed my father. I had no idea the killer was a pawn in a much bigger game.

  "No one told me." Her eyes slid to the side, and I knew she wasn't telling me everything. "It's genetics, Carter. And your last name."

  "What?"

  I must have still had a look of shock on my face. Bea walked over and guided me to a chair to sit down. I did without thought and she took the chair across from me.

  "You look so much like your father. Did you know the elementary school you went to was the same one Olivia and I attended?"

  I shook my head, unable to make sense of why she was talking about a school we had in common a lifetime ago.

  "The year you disappeared, the school renamed the cafeteria after you. They had a picture of you and your family with a plaque next to it. Olivia glanced at it once or twice, but I became fascinated by it. You and your family became a legend like the Bermuda Triangle. Something untouchable, mysterious, but there was still hope that you might be alive."

  "They pronounced us dead a few years later."

  "Yes, but I didn't believe them. I heard my father one night in his office speaking to a politician on the phone. He was schmoozing like he always did to try to get a bill in congress that would favor the food industry. I usually ignored what he was talking about to read the marketing books he had in his office. I hid well, so he never noticed me."

  "How old were you?"

  "Nine."

  "You wanted to read marketing books as a kid?"

  She nodded as if it was normal. That somehow, I was the weirdo that didn't want to read business books as a child.

  "Of course. How else was I supposed to take over my father's business before I turned thirty?"