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

by Elizabeth Lynx

  "We're twenty-eight, so he's probably around thirty . . ." she muttered while tapping at her phone.

  She gasped, covering her mouth. Bea held out her phone to me.

  I took it, not wanting to read what it said. This was going to change things—change how I saw Carter. It was one thing to pretend like it wasn't true, but to see the evidence that it was real had me rethinking the hot chocolate I was drinking.

  How Bea painted my relationship with him wasn't us at all. Yet, I knew when I read what she looked up about him, it would appear that way to everyone who found out. Knowing Bea, she would drop hints to all the right people about Carter.

  My eyes flickered over the web page filled with different members of the Fitzwilliam family. I saw Dashiell's name and next to him, his brother, former senator Lorne Fitzwilliam. It explained his disappearance shortly after the tragic death of his wife and baby daughter.

  I found it hard to swallow as I read the next line. It was about his son. Last seen at age eight, Carter Fitzwilliam disappeared with his father. Both are presumed dead, but some theorists believe he lived in various locations around the world. There's even a theory they were abducted by aliens.

  I pushed the phone back at Bea, not wanting to look at it anymore.

  "Carter is also a common name. That doesn't explain anything."

  Bea lifted the phone. "Considering that this Carter and your Carter are the same age . . ."

  "Presumably. I still don't know his actual age. Carter could be forty-five for all I know instead of thirty. Maybe he has really good genes and the mountain air makes him look younger than he actually is?"

  "Here's your food. Enjoy, ladies. Oh, and can I say it's wonderful that you found your sister." Debbie clasped Bea's shoulder after placing the plates of food in front of us.

  "It is wonderful. It's a relief to have her back."

  Both my sister and Debbie gazed at me, their eyes glassy with unshed tears. My cheeks warmed at the attention.

  "Bacon." I pointed to Beatrice's plate of food to get her to stop staring. It did the trick. She clasped her hands together and stared at the bacon with affection.

  "One more thing before you go." Bea hesitantly ripped her eyes from the food to glance up at Debbie. "Are you from here?"

  Debbie put her hands on her hips and with a proud smile, she nodded. "Born and raised."

  "Do you know when Carter and his father moved here?"

  I was about to lift a piece of pancake to my lips with my fork when I stopped mid-rise. Bea smirked at me. I knew she saw this as some sort of contest. Who was right and who was wrong?

  That's not how I saw it. For me, it was everything I thought I knew about Carter about to be flushed away. Maybe I saw him as different because he was a farmer just trying to get by in life. If he was tied to the Fitzwilliams, then his life was more complicated than I could imagine.

  I ran from complicated. That world of politics, wealth, and fractured family history brought out the worst in people.

  "It was twenty-two years ago." Debbie rubbed at her chin. "Carter was just a boy. I remember because it was the year I bought this place with my husband. He used to curse up a storm. When Carter and his dad would come here to eat, I would tell Jack to keep it down. He upset the boy with all his foul talk. I thanked Carter a few years later. Because of him, Jack doesn't really curse anymore."

  "Thank you. You've been helpful, uh . . ." Bea glanced up to read the name tag, "Debbie."

  "Anytime. Hey, if you two ladies are still around next week, all the single ladies in town are getting together to do a little bar hopping. You two should join us."

  "But you're married," Bea said as a crease formed between her brow.

  "I know, but I'm the designated driver. It's fun to hang out with those women, and I feel better knowing they all get home safely."

  "We'll keep it in mind." Bea nodded and watched Debbie walk off.

  "Twenty-two years ago. That's exactly when Lorne and Carter Fitzwilliam disappeared. It seems your farmer is the long-lost heir to the Fitzwilliam fortune."

  I had to accept it was true whether I wanted it or not. The intruder asked about the money. That guy called Carter by his last name. He knew about his past.

  When Carter told me the name of the hospital he was born, it took all my energy to hide my shock.

  "I still think it's a coincidence."

  I couldn't look at my sister. I knew what I was saying was ridiculous, but I didn't want her to tell anyone. It hurt too much to bring that power-hungry world up here and if Bea told anyone, they'd descend like my mom on a famous celebrity or former president at one of her parties.

  "It's still just a theory, so don't say anything, okay?"

  She nodded, and I hoped she understood how devastating this could be for Carter.

  EIGHTEEN

  Carter

  "What do you think you're doing?" Olivia yelled from behind me.

  My back straightened, and I dropped the rake. I turned to find Olivia there with surprise bordering on anger etched across her face.

  "I didn't hear you come in the barn. What time is it?"

  I figured Olivia would be out most of the day with her sister, and the sun hadn't even started to set yet.

  She faced me with a scowl on her face. "It's about three. You didn't answer my question, Carter. Why are you trying to clean out the barn? Your arm's still healing."

  Turning my back to her, I picked up the rake and got back to work. "I’m just adding some hay for the bedding. I wanted you to enjoy your time with your sister, not have to worry about the farm. One day won't hurt me."

  I winced and gritted my teeth as a wave of pain shot up my arm in defiance to my words. With a quickness I hadn't expected, the cleaning implement was ripped from my hand.

  "Hey, I was using that."

  "Not anymore. Get back inside. I'll add the hay and make sure they have water. If you're bored, you can walk Kitty." Olivia picked up where I left off with the rake.

  I scratched at my beard. No one walked Kitty. The dog had never had a leash on in her life. My father made sure I trained her at an early age. A leash on a dog out here would do more harm than good.

  "I took her on a long walk an hour ago. She's fine. Why don't I help you at least? I'm the farmer, remember?"

  She frowned before stopping, refusing to look at me. "I know. You won't stop reminding me. It's almost as if you're convincing yourself more than me."

  The last part she mumbled to herself, but I heard every word.

  "What does that mean?"

  "It means . . ." Olivia turned suddenly, her face full of anger or resentment or something else that made me wonder what I had done. "Never mind. It's not your fault."

  Now I got it. A little time with her sister and she's right back to the spoiled little princess that passed out on my kitchen floor all those weeks ago. Olivia goes back to her chore, and she practically beats the rake against the dirt floor.

  "My fault? I'm sorry if this is too much for you. I never asked you to help me." I walked over and took the rake from her. She gasped but within seconds, she narrowed her eyes at me.

  I had the sudden feeling we were two bulls ready to do battle, but she was the stronger one. I was about to be ripped to shreds.

  "Why don't you stay the night with your sister at whatever fancy hotel she's staying?"

  "She's at The Lodge." Olivia folded her hands over her chest as she glared at me.

  "Good. I'm sure they'll be happy to see you again. I'll head inside and call you a cab."

  I turned and marched through the barn door and headed to the cleaning area in the back of the cabin. While I was washing my hands in the outdoor faucet, I heard Olivia come up behind me.

  "Why do you want me to leave? I thought you needed my help?" Her voice cracked, and I looked up. Despite the hurt in her words, all I saw was anger disguised by a beautiful face.

  I wiped my hands and shoved past her to go kick off my boots. I needed to get away fr
om Olivia. Maybe I should take Kitty for another walk. A long one where I was too exhausted to think of anything other than what was right in front of me.

  The water ran from the tap, but I didn't stick around to wait for Olivia to finish cleaning up. I went inside and headed straight to the only place where I had any sort of privacy—the bathroom.

  It didn't take long for Olivia to knock on the bathroom door. "Carter, open up. Unless you're going number one . . . and especially if you're going number two. Then just say so and I'll leave you alone."

  "What if I'm going number three!"

  I knew that didn't make sense, but I was angry.

  "Oh, number three? Can I watch?"

  Well, that was unexpected.

  "What? You want to watch me go number three?"

  "Yes. I've never seen anyone go number three before, Carter. I'm curious."

  I opened the door and stared at her. Her cheeks were flush and the way she bit her bottom lip, I wondered if number three was something sexual.

  "You want to watch me do a number three in the bathroom?"

  Olivia's smile grew, and I felt she knew that I had no idea what a number three was.

  "Here, I'll help you."

  I took a step back as she reached for my shirt. "Do I really need to take my shirt off for this?"

  She nodded. "I would think so."

  Once the last button was undone, she pushed the shirt down my arms. It became caught on my cast and she began to tug a little harder.

  "You have to twist it down." I tried to show her, but she wasn't having it.

  "No, I got this, Carter."

  We both were fighting with my shirt, my cast, and with each other.

  I heard a tear and my shirt fell to the floor. We both stared at the limp flannel.

  "That was my good shirt."

  "Are you serious right now? It's plaid, flannel, and I noticed a hole in the side. There are probably hundreds of hole-free ones I could buy you within a ten-mile radius."

  I shook my head. "It wouldn't be the same. That was my father's shirt."

  All the fight and light faded from Olivia's gaze. It wasn't fun to watch. I wanted to get that bright radiance that glowed wherever she went back.

  "I'm sorry. I didn't think it was important to you."

  I reached down and picked it up. "He never dressed like that when I was little. It was always suits. Even in his downtime, he wore dress shirts and dress pants. But when we moved up here, he changed. He wanted to blend in." I glanced up at Olivia. "And I just wanted him to see me."

  "I see you and your flannel." Olivia smiled and stepped closer, placing her hand on my chest.

  Electric heat shot through her fingertips, charging my heart. I had no idea how long we'd been standing here, but it was long enough to know that I shouldn't be breathing as if I just ran a mile.

  "I'm not wearing flannel right now." My hand covered hers.

  It's soft and her fingers tickled and scratched through my dusting of chest hair. I don't ever want her to let go. Olivia's eyes sparkled like a freshly lit fire as she waited for me to pull away like I tried to last night.

  "No, you're not."

  She stepped back, leaving me cold and wondering if there was a chance for me to ever get it back. I realized at that moment that I had become addicted to her touch.

  Olivia popped a few buttons on her shirt before pulling it over her head. She stood before me in the lace bra I had seen hanging on the bathroom door hook several times. I had wondered what it looked like on her, but I never imagined it would create the most beautifully wrapped package I ever saw. My fingers itched to take a peek inside.

  "Now I'm not, either."

  Without taking my eyes off of her, my useful hand made quick work of removing my jeans. I stood only in my black boxer briefs.

  "I'm not wearing my jeans."

  Her cheeks flamed and the impish grin that followed was tempting me to kiss it off. But I held my ground, waiting for her to decide what to do next. My erection was having trouble holding back. It strained against my briefs and Olivia watched with delight in her eyes.

  "No, you are not. And thank goodness. It must have been crushing that thing."

  I cocked my eye at her as she pointed between my thighs.

  "Thing? Do I have to teach you about the bird and the bees, Olivia?"

  She threw her head back and laughed—it was gorgeous. She was striking when she was happy. How could I ever upset her? I decided to only do things that made Olivia smile.

  Her fingers slowly—and with purpose—began to unfasten her jeans. Her sister must have taken her shopping while they were out. These weren't my baggy old jeans she left wearing. These jeans fit her legs to perfection. And as she peeled them off, I wondered if I was drooling.

  "I think I will be the one teaching you about sex," she said before dropping her clothes next to mine on the floor.

  I was snapped out of what was happening. I stood with a chill but full of confusion over her statement. "What? Why would you need to teach me?"

  "I . . . uh, I mean . . . you're a virgin, right?" Her arms wrapped around her middle and I could see she was as uncomfortable as I was dumbfounded.

  My brows shot up, and I didn't know whether to laugh or be miffed that she thought I wouldn't know how to please a woman.

  "Olivia, there have been many things you didn't know how to do when you got here. Things most people learn how to do as children. Some, I used to think were naturally ingrained in us, but I realized you needed to be taught. But at no point did I assume I knew anything about your sexual history. Yet, for all I helped you with, you thought I was completely naïve in bed?"

  Her lips flapped as she blew air through them. It was adorable and made me want to kiss her again.

  "When you put it like that, I sound awful. I just thought with you living up here all alone and not being a very social person . . . You're like the male version of a crazy cat lady, but just with sheep and a dog."

  "Now I sound terrible." I stepped forward, taking her arms and pulling them from her waist.

  "Do you want me to show you how non-virginal I am?"

  Because I want to show you, like, a million times.

  "God, yes," Olivia groaned.

  My grin was quick and smothered just as fast as she reached up and pulled my face forward. Her lips brushed mine and something switched in my brain. I took over, shoving my body to hers until she hit the cool wall of the bathroom.

  My fingers curled into her hair, pulling her head back, and as a shudder ran down my back, I watched as her mouth opened for me.

  "You want this?" I had to make sure she understood there was no going back.

  I held off as much as I could. When it came to sex, that's when the beast came out. I knew it was something that a woman wouldn't want long-term. I wasn't the guy a girl brought home to her parents—no matter how hard I worked at my job.

  Women enjoyed themselves but when I suggested we try it again, the look they gave me said it all. It was a one-time thing. An experiment to see if they were into it, but they never were.

  Olivia's fingers slid to my chest, her nails dug into my skin, and I wondered if she thought that would make me want to stop. She had no idea how it made me want more.

  The question was, did she want it, too?

  NINETEEN

  Olivia

  I could barely breathe as Carter's large body pinned me to the wall. He may not be a virgin as I assumed, but I never expected this. He was like a savage animal moving in for the kill. And as his hard cock dug into my pelvis, I wondered if I wanted to be eaten.

  "Yes." My voice came out as a half moan, half unintelligible noise.

  With my head held back and my mouth forced open, I hoped he understood what I wanted. This close, I could smell every hard-earned bead of sweat that glistened on his skin. There was something about Carter's scent, and I craved more. I wanted to bottle it up and take it home with me.

  His fingers loosened and I li
fted my head. The kink in my neck twitched but instead of wincing, a bolt of heat ran straight between my thighs.

  His hand slid from my hair and he glided his finger across my lips before shoving it into my mouth. It wasn't a gentle push where he hesitated, waiting for my response. I had said yes and he heard, so everything was fair game now.

  Carter stepped back to watch his finger defile my mouth.

  "I've taken it easy on you, farmhand. If you want me to please you, I have to make sure you can take it."

  Even through his thick beard, I could see his jaw tighten. Carter glanced at his broken arm and I could tell he wanted to do more. That's why I was still here—to help out when he needed it.

  I reached out and slid a finger across the waistline of his briefs. Half expecting him to object, I paused.

  Carter chuckled, mocking me. "Take it. Or are you the virgin?" His voice sounded like liquid metal as it dropped an octave.

  I wanted to slap that smirk off his face. Anger boiled through me but the more it grew, the farther down it sank until my thighs began to shake and I knew my panties were soaked.

  I kept my hands gliding over his stomach, refusing to move lower. Two could play at his taunting game. But I realized too late that's exactly what he wanted. Carter's smile widened and my skin pricked in surprise. He was big and my heart raced at what he would do next.

  Carter seemed to be reading my mind as he leaned closer, his lips fluttered over the edge of my ear. It barely took a breath from his lips and I was whimpering like a wounded rabbit. I had no control left. No matter what he did or said, I responded as if I was dying to have the crumbs he threw at me.

  "Are you trying to tease me?" His finger glided down my chest and hooked into the lacy edge of my bra. "Because it won't work, Olivia." He pulled, exposing my breast to the heat of his hand. "I'm not your ex. I don't expect you to lie there while I attempt a pathetic, base version of sex."

  My back ached as I tried to lean closer to his body but with every movement, he stepped back.

  "Maybe that's your thing. A quick two-minute dicking with lots of lube because he couldn't get you wet enough, even if he tried," Carter practically snarled.