Found (Lost & Found Book 2)

by Scarlett Finn

  Being strong while he was so close was difficult. Venting to him, wrapping herself up in him, hiding them in her bedroom behind a locked door… without clothes, all tempting options.

  Love didn’t hide. Turner meant it. He loved her, she didn’t doubt it. Not anymore.

  “He’s increased the bounty,” Tiller said. “He’s eager to speak to you.”

  “He can’t keep doing it,” she said, crossing to them. “He’s taking over our lives. Not just our lives, but innocent lives. As long as he keeps offering rewards and doing public things like hiring planes to pull banners, it will stay in the news. As long as people are talking about it, there will be news vans parked outside and photographers hounding everyone I know.”

  Like the Maddox family who were probably on edge wondering when someone would jump out on them again. With Turner there, they had even less protection than before.

  “Holden is powerful, sweetheart,” her father said. “We have to be careful. We were just discussing how to progress.”

  “I don’t want to be careful,” Poppy said. “I say we take it to him. Get our lawyers on it, tell him to keep the Granger name out of his mouth.”

  Her father glanced around at the other men in his secret meeting.

  “I suppose that tells us how she feels about pursuing a relationship with him,” Sunfield said.

  Poppy got closer, focusing on Tiller. “I want the lawyers here today. I want words on paper that make it clear we will pursue further action if he persists.”

  “The law is tricky,” Newell said. “Our lawyers have been—”

  “I want my lawyer here,” she said, the words just spilling out on their own. “A lawyer who cares about ending Holden’s harassment.”

  And not what disruption of the relationship could do to her father’s business interests. Someone who would care about what she cared about: the Maddox family.

  “Preston Whitlock,” she said. “He issued the statement for Charlotte Maddox the day I came back here.”

  “I know who he is,” Tiller said with a nod.

  Her father was frowning. “I thought you weren’t interested in last night’s intruder.”

  “This isn’t about that,” she said and set her sights on Tiller. “Can you get him here?”

  “Of course.”

  “He can sit with your people, Dad,” she said to reassure him. “I just need his eyes and ears in every room, on every piece of paper.”

  She didn’t even know exactly what kind of law Preston practiced, it could be that he was more of a business sort or maybe it was real estate, she had no idea. But he was smart enough to know what was going on and to know when he needed to check something out.

  “I will call him now,” Tiller said, getting the nod from her father. “I’ll send the jet. We’ll get him here tonight.”

  “And compensate him for his time,” Poppy said. “Don’t drag him out on a Saturday night to stand in my corner for nothing. If I have to break into my trust and pay him myself…”

  “Don’t be dramatic, sweetheart,” her father said. “Of course we will compensate him.” He stepped away from the others. “I have to say I’m impressed. It may make things more difficult for me and the business, but I’m proud you’re smart enough to protect yourself. You trust this Whitlock?”

  “He’s a good man. Fair and honest,” she said. “I’d like him to stay here at the house.”

  Rather than going in and out, possibly meeting the photographers who liked to show up every once in a while. Their security guys chased them off and wouldn’t let them linger, but inevitably they’d come around again.

  “Yes, of course,” her father said.

  He’d been so understanding that although it wasn’t exactly customary for them to be tactile, she went over and pulled him down to kiss his cheek.

  “Thank you, Daddy,” she said, noticing his surprise before she turned to Tiller. “You’ll let me know when he’s here? I’d like to talk to him in private as soon as he arrives.” Tiller nodded once, a whisper of a smile on his lips. “I’ll be in the music room.”

  FIVE

  Although they called it the music room, it wasn’t a room of the house, it was a separate outbuilding on estate land. There were various structures dotted around in their acres, built at different times for different things. The music room, however, was definitely her favorite.

  With the grand piano elevated in the corner, warm wood flooring and glass pocket doors that gave a view of the sea, it was a space for reflection.

  And for writing music.

  Getting back in the groove was one thing. Her fingers hadn’t moved on anything other than a computer keyboard for weeks, but Poppy had forgotten how it could take her away. The music bolstered her mood or reinforced it, the melodies and finger dances across the keys took her away from hurt and confusion. The music didn’t care about words in the sky or rewards or people on TV. It helped her to concentrate, to focus her conscious mind so her subconscious could figure her life out.

  Living in the real world away from financial privilege hadn’t fixed her. Coming home to all the luxury she could stand didn’t do it either.

  She stopped playing to put a few notes on paper. That was when she heard the footsteps and turned to see Primrose coming in to join her.

  “You’re writing,” Primrose said. “I haven’t seen you do that in a long time.”

  “I’m just messing around.”

  Primrose came over and Poppy slid down the stool to make room for her. “You know, I never got it. I hated it when Mom told us to practice our instruments…” Her sister traced the lines between the keys. “You were always a natural.”

  “I enjoyed it. The music was a comfort.”

  “I can understand that,” Primrose said, still touching the keys without pressing them. “The guy who came here last night… He’s the guy from your building. The one who brought me to your apartment.”

  “Yes.”

  “You were with him before you came home?”

  “It’s complicated,” Poppy said when Primrose glanced at her. “But yes, I was.”

  “And he’s in love with you… like Holden.”

  Primrose’s fingers slid off the keys and onto her lap as Poppy began to play a soft, happy tune. “The difference being Turner actually knows who I am. He took the time to get to know me. I don’t know what Holden’s about, having some early midlife crisis, I guess.”

  “How does Turner feel about Holden loving you?”

  “I don’t know, I haven’t asked him. Probably not good.”

  “He’s not threatened?”

  Her lips quirked, and she kept on playing. “No. Turner knows I have no interest in Holden… the whole thing just makes me angry.”

  Primrose sighed. “So Turner can get over it, but Violet can’t?”

  “She was humiliated. Being jilted is one thing, but the way Holden did it…” Poppy shook her head. “I don’t blame her for being emotional.”

  “I tried to get her to come down here. I think it would help for her to hear that you’re really not interested in Holden.”

  “I’ve never wavered in that. When she’s ready to hear me, she will,” Poppy said and leaned over to nudge her while still playing. “I’m proud of you though. Coming to get me. Coming down here to talk, you’re really trying to hold us all together.”

  “I… uh…”

  Poppy laughed. “I know, we’re not usually so free with the compliments… We should celebrate the positives instead of only highlighting the negatives.”

  Still playing, Poppy enjoyed the texture of the keys and the lilt of the tune.

  “You’ve changed,” Primrose said after a few moments. “For the better. I like this new Poppy… Grammie always said that finding love alters our outlook. She was right.”

  “Maybe,” Poppy said, her fingers speeding up. “Would you like me to teach you something?”

  “God no,” Primrose said. “I haven’t played in like twenty years.�
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  “Because you chose the flute… Where is your flute by the way?”

  “No idea,” Primrose said. “There’s no time anyway, I said I’d remind you about dinner. We’re already late.”

  Time had got away from her, which wasn’t a bad thing. Poppy needed the oblivion. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t last forever. She had to face her family again, Poppy just hoped that night would be somewhat less dramatic than the previous one.

  Poppy and Primrose walked into the dining room arm in arm talking about some of the drama she’d missed in their social circles. Poppy wasn’t particularly close to any of their “friends.” Grammie was her best friend. But it was nice to hear tales from the lives of others that made hers feel a little saner.

  The extra body at the dinner table brought her up short.

  “Oh my God,” Primrose whispered a few feet inside the dining room. “Is that your landlord stalker from last night?”

  Breathing out, Poppy accepted that Grammie wasn’t letting up. “You can call him Turner.”

  How her family had missed Grammie inviting him to stay and him getting a job on their land was a mystery. Though not for long.

  When they approached the dining table, everyone turned to the pair of sisters. Poppy let go of Primrose so the latter could go around to her customary seat next to Violet.

  “If you’re uncomfortable, we’ll have security escort him out,” her father said. “It seems your grandmother has a bee in her bonnet about this one.”

  “He can stay,” Poppy said without missing that he’d been positioned next to Grammie in her usual seat, so she’d been bumped down one.

  The sun had set while she and Primrose crossed the grounds. It would be getting colder too. If they kicked Turner out, he’d struggle to find anywhere to stay in town, unless he bunked in with one of his new buddies from the worksite.

  “Your grandmother dragooned him into the library after you retired last night,” her mother said as appetizers were served and wine poured.

  Turner put a hand over his glass when the server, Stephanie, came his way. “No thanks.”

  He didn’t notice the coy smile on the young Stephanie’s face. Poppy did. Was it because he was just so hot or did the staff enjoy him for some other reason?

  “We assumed that you sent him packing when you’d finished your conversation, mother,” Clark Granger wasn’t too impressed with his mom.

  “It’s fine,” Poppy said, showing her parents a smile.

  Having Turner at the dinner table was a comfort actually. Poppy didn’t want to send mixed signals or confuse the situation, but she could never feel bad when he was around. The truth was, he filled her with warmth and security.

  “See, it’s fine,” Marigold said to her son. “I don’t know what the problem is.”

  Obviously after talking to him in the library, her Grammie had decided Turner was the real deal. That must’ve been when she hatched her plan to have him stay and get him employed.

  Poppy recalled their last conversation, earlier in the day. “You didn’t sign anything today, did you?”

  “No,” Turner said, checking out the flatware. Without saying anything, she picked up her fork, showing him which one he needed to use. “Guys showed me around and I looked at a couple of places. Real beautiful town you’ve got.”

  “There’s no need for you to rent a residence,” Grammie said. “There’s plenty of room here. Aitken suggested you move into the house you’re building once it’s finished. You should do that. I won’t live forever, you need to get started on building the next generation with my granddaughter. I think that’s an excellent plan.”

  “I don’t,” Poppy said, wishing she had the right angle to glare at her grandmother. “I think that’s a very bad plan.”

  “I’m tempted to disinherit you, Tot. You’re being so difficult about all of this.”

  “Disinherit away,” Poppy said, raising her wine glass.

  “Then maybe you’ll think about building a life back where you met this beautiful man,” Grammie said.

  Poppy put the wine glass to her lips, but the scent of the liquid stalled her. Wine, Turner… Poppy couldn’t be trusted in that setup, so put the alcohol down untouched.

  “If I go back, the press will follow,” she said. “God knows what Holden will do. I won’t endanger the people I care about. They’ve been through enough already because of me.”

  “We’ll protect you,” Turner said. “I’d give my life for you.”

  “We don’t want it coming to that,” Grammie said. “Poppy is right that the media can be relentless. The situation is onerous.”

  “It is what it is,” Poppy said. “And it’s the reason I told you to go home.” Although she looked at Turner, he didn’t look at her, he was busy peering at his plate, probably wondering where the rest of his food was. Something occurred to her. “You know, for all the times I sat at your mother’s dinner table, do you realize that you and I have never sat at a table and eaten a meal together.”

  That did bring his attention around to her. “We haven’t?” Wearing a simple smile, she shook her head. “Guess we had better things to do.”

  Keeping her smile simple was impossible when he insisted on inspecting her mouth with such heated intrigue. How many times had he kissed her? Poppy had lost track. It shouldn’t still feel like she was anticipating their first kiss. It shouldn’t be so exciting and arousing just fantasizing about what it might feel like to lean a little closer and—

  “Poppy!”

  Her mother’s exclamation startled her so much that she jumped. “Mom,” she said, clearing her throat, sure there was color in her cheeks. “I’m sorry, were you talking to me?”

  The whisper of a laugh that came from behind Turner’s static lips was so smug that she wanted to push him or poke him or tell him to be more of a gentleman. But touching him would be a bad idea. Touching would definitely lead to mixed messages.

  “The trials of your love life aside…” Silvia said to her. “I was trying to get an answer from your grandmother.”

  “About her plans for the fortune?” Poppy asked, returning to her food in an attempt to find her equilibrium again. “Ask her, not me, I know nothing about it.”

  “You’re the only one who can talk sense into her.”

  It was a shame that her mother was so fraught. The poor woman was used to a certain kind of lifestyle. Adjusting to anything other than that would be quite a trial for her.

  “Grammie will make her decision when she makes her decision.”

  “I don’t see why she has to make it at all,” Silvia said. “There’s nothing wrong with the life we live.”

  Grammie scoffed. “That is because you don’t know the other side of life, my dear. This is all you’ve ever known…” Marigold’s voice softened. “I feel for you, Sil, I really do… and for your girls. Violet and Primrose anyway. Poppy had her chance to live her own life and made a mess of it.”

  “Thanks, Grammie,” Poppy said. “Just in case anyone wasn’t clear on that.”

  “You didn’t make a mess of anything, Popkat,” Turner said, his plate already empty. He didn’t usually have the time to sit and eat, which would explain why he wasn’t in the habit of lingering. “Your sister’s fuck of an ex messed it up.”

  Beneath the table, she patted his leg, wincing and shaking her head. “You shouldn’t swear around my mom.”

  “Maybe if someone did, you’d all see this guy needs taken care of.”

  “We’re dealing with it,” Clark said from the head of the table, unhappy to be doubted. “It’s a complicated situation.”

  “Not from where I’m sitting,” Turner grumbled.

  Playing mediator was usually something Poppy did for her sisters. Being the head of his own family, Turner was used to dealing with issues. He wasn’t used to sitting back and letting someone else deal with them.

  “Holden can make things difficult at the company,” Poppy said without missing the irony that earlier
in the day she’d been thinking how little she cared about that. “But I don’t want it going on any more than you do.”

  Turner’s next blink was slow on its approach to her gaze. “Of everyone at this table, baby, I guarantee that I want this guy taken care of the most… And I’m willing to do the job.”

  Maybe, but it wasn’t like taking care of Holden would suddenly free her up. “I have no romantic interest in him, First.”

  “I know that.”

  “I shouldn’t have to say it.”

  “You don’t,” he said.

  “And you know the suggestion he’d be a threat to you is laughable.”

  “Yeah,” he said, sinking back in his chair and draping an arm across the back of hers. “But he’s upsetting you, causing problems for you. I’ve been patient, hanging back to see what your side come up with…”

  “Holden Abernathy could ruin you,” Poppy said, squeezing his thigh. “How would you ending up destitute and in prison help any of your girls? I guarantee your mom’s opinion of me would change fast if you were destroyed by something that was my fault.”

  “How is this your fault?” he asked. “You didn’t ask the guy to break your sister’s heart. You didn’t want him for yourself. You couldn’t care less about him.”

  “I know that,” she said, mirroring his recent response to her.

  “If you were interested, you’d have him already. You’d have run away from the wedding together or you’d have hooked up since you’ve been home. Grammie says he’s barred from the estate. Still the guy won’t get the message.”

  Everyone finished up and the servers came in to clear plates and bring out the entrée. As had been usual in the Granger house for the last couple of weeks, silence joined them as they ate.

  “Holden did me a favor.”

  Violet. Those words came from the sister who had barely said anything above a whisper in Poppy’s vicinity since she’d been back.

  “Yes,” Grammie said. “Good girl, that’s exactly the right attitude. We don’t need blood like that in this family.”

  “We might if you’re going to kick us out onto the street.”