Lost in Love: A Contemporary Christian Romance (Modern Conveniences Book 3) Read online

  Lost in Love

  Modern Conveniences Three

  Leah Atwood

  Copyright © 2016 by Leah Atwood

  Cover Design by Covers by Ramona

  Cover Image © Depositphotos.com

  Editing by Vicki Prather of Prather Ink

  Unless otherwise noted, all Scripture quotations are taken from the HCSB®, Copyright © 1999, 2000, 2002, 2003, 2009 by Holman Bible Publishers. Used by permission. HCSB® is a federally registered trademark of Holman Bible Publishers.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Epilogue

  Note from Leah

  Other Available Titles

  Waiting On Love Excerpt

  Chapter One

  “One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi.” Out of breath, Sunny Evans couldn’t make it any further in her count. Anticipation spun and pulled her nerves until it forced all the air from her lungs.

  She leaned against the wooden door of the stone farmhouse and clasped her hands atop her head. A loud sigh echoed in the entryway. What have I done? For a brief moment she contemplated training for the role of a contortionist by hiding in the accent cabinet pushed against the wall.

  Adrenaline pulsing through her wouldn’t allow her to remain still. She paced the rooms of the first floor, through the parlor and the library, the game room and dining room. Came to a stop in the kitchen. She powered up her laptop which sat on the butcher block island. Eventually she’d clean out the office and set up shop in there.

  Her fingers tapped against the keyboard while she waited for her email to load. For the hundredth time that day, possibly thousandth, she opened the email containing the most recent picture Kristopher had sent. His smile jumped off the screen, his blue eyes glittered. Butterflies flipped in her stomach.

  They’d met through an online dating website and chatted for several months before progressing to phone calls. Within six months, they had agreed to meet with the plan to marry if they were as compatible in person as online. Kristopher claimed to love her. She held no such illusions. Affection maybe, but not love. Unfortunately, she didn’t have the luxury of time to wait for love.

  She needed a husband by March thirty-first or she’d lose her inheritance, namely Crosswinds Bed and Breakfast, established in the mid-eighteen hundreds. She couldn’t lose this house. Its history alone was enough to want to keep it—the home had played a pivotal role in the Underground Railroad and had a hidden passage—but it also gave her a fresh purpose.

  The last two years hadn’t been easy. She lost her mom to cancer, and then her sister, Raina, moved to California when her husband had been transferred to San Jose. Her job at the marketing firm hadn’t fulfilled her in the way she’d hoped. She started with the company four years ago, fresh out of college, and still spent most of her days running errands for her bosses. She’d prayed for direction and two days later, the company had announced plans for downsizing. When given the choice to step down to part-time or accept a severance package, she had her answer.

  A week after signing the papers, she’d been frantically scrutinizing every job-listing website and newspaper, scouring the classifieds for a new position. At the least expected moment, she’d received a certified letter in the mail that her great-Aunt Mitzy, who’d passed the month prior, had left her the Crosswinds Bed and Breakfast, along with a substantial amount of money to run the establishment.

  She’d jumped at the opportunity, after clearing it with her father, whom she’d moved back home to live with after her mother died. What the letter hadn’t mentioned was that the inheritance held several stipulations that must be fulfilled to claim the property. First, she was required to live on the property.

  That was easy. The house and land were beautiful. Mature maples and oaks surrounded the home, and in the rear of the property was a small apple orchard. When all the leaves had changed colors last fall, and she crunched her teeth on a fresh-off-the-tree apple, she was convinced she’d found her own paradise.

  Even now, Crosswinds was beautiful. She let her gaze travel to the window. Winter lingered, refusing to disappear completely, but new signs of spring showed up every day—a few more green leaves, another bird chirping outside the window. Without another house around for three miles, one could enjoy the peace and solitude nature offered without the interference of fussy neighbors, construction projects, and a myriad of other distracting noises.

  The second stipulation stated that she never change the name of the bed and breakfast. Again, no problem there. The business had maintained that name for decades and had built a solid reputation. She saw no reason to change it up now.

  But the third condition? Whew. For as long as she lived, she’d never forget her shock when the lawyer, Stan Marchland, read the words, In order to receive full ownership of Crosswinds Bed and Breakfast, Sunshine Evans must marry by the thirty-first day of March, of the year following my passing. If this proviso is not met, then all ownership will be forfeited, and Sunshine Evans will instead receive a lump sum of one-hundred thousand dollars, to be taken from the trust for the bed-and-breakfast.

  She’d asked the lawyer if that was legal. He said if they took it to probate court, there was a good chance they could excuse that requirement, however the cost involved could be hefty. Sunny didn’t have that kind of cash available, nor did she have the time. If they went to court, and the proceedings went beyond March thirty-first, she risked losing everything.

  Except the hundred grand. A very generous inheritance which her sister advised her to take instead of marrying a stranger. Raina, understandably, didn’t support her efforts to meet a husband online. For that matter, Sunny wasn’t so sure she did either, but she would lose Crosswinds. In the nine months that she’d lived here, it had become home, and she knew it was her answered prayer.

  If she had to marry a stranger, then so be it. And Kristopher wasn’t exactly a stranger. Even though they hadn’t met in person, they’d talked enough to know each other. She’d always believed that you could tell a lot about a person from their voice and the way they spoke. Kristopher had a southern drawl from his Mississippi roots although he’d lived in Delaware for the last ten years. He spoke clearly, and when discussing a topic he was passionate about, his voice would pick up speed.

  She knew all the dangers of online dating, but had taken every precaution. Before they ever spoke on the phone, she’d run a background check on him. Everything he’d told her had panned out. No criminal history, a correct list of previous addresses, even his one speeding ticket he’d gotten three years ago.
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  To protect herself, she also didn’t mention the money Aunt Mitzy had left. All that Kristopher knew was that she’d inherited the bed-and-breakfast, and she needed a husband by a certain date. If—once—they married, then she would fill in all the details.

  In all their chats, he never gave her any reason not to trust him. She was only nervous because of the circumstances, right? Wouldn’t anyone be anxious to meet someone they’d met online?

  The doorbell rang.

  Her heart leaped into her throat.

  He was here.

  She closed her laptop while uttering a prayer. All the warnings and protests her sister had issued came to mind. Was she making a huge mistake? Why hadn’t she met him in public first? Doubts clouded any reasonable thinking she could muster.

  Half-tempted to run and hide, she straightened her shoulders and did just the opposite. She marched to the door, concentrating on the future. All she had to do was get past the initial awkward phase of meeting Kristopher, and then they could move forward with their future.

  It wouldn’t be so bad, not really. She was being overly dramatic.

  Her hand closed over the doorknob, and she turned it slowly, not ready to face the rest of her life. She placed her other hand over her stomach to quench the nausea. Finally, she opened the door.

  Laughter bubbled from her. All of her mental preparation, and it wasn’t Kristopher at all, but a middle-aged man.

  “Can I help you, sir?” She caught sight of the suitcase in his hand. “I’m sorry, but I’m not currently accepting guests. The bed and breakfast is currently closed until April first.”

  The day after her deadline for marriage. She’d made the decision to take several weeks off, to give her and Kristopher uninterrupted time together. Come April and the advent of spring, business would pick up drastically based on previous years’ records, and she’d be too busy running the place to nurture a relationship.

  The man stared at her with arched brows. “Sunshine?”

  A cold shiver shot down her spine. “Who are you?”

  “You don’t recognize me?”

  She swallowed the bile that burned her throat. His voice was familiar, the accent not nearly as thick as when they’d spoken on the phone. If she squinted her eyes just right, she could pick out familiar features from his face.

  A face that had aged fifteen to twenty years from that of the photos sitting in her email. She gulped. There had to be an explanation. “Are you Kristopher’s father?”

  His head swayed side to side, a smirk on his lips. “It’s me, sweetheart.”

  Her knees went weak, and she leaned against the doorjamb. What in the world was going on? Kristopher had told her he was twenty-eight, the same age as her. The man who stood before her was easily forty if not pushing fifty. It didn’t make sense. She’d run a background check on him. The document visualized fresh in her memory. With alarming clarity, she realized she’d been so concerned about his criminal history, she’d never thought to verify his date of birth.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  “Is there a problem?” Kristopher looked at her, a confused expression on his face, as though he didn’t understand the problem.

  How did she politely say he was old? Not old, but older than he’d let on. Even if everything else they’d talked about was true—and that was highly questionable at this point—she couldn’t marry this man, couldn’t even entertain the notion. “How old are you, really?”

  He rubbed a finger on the bottom of his nose. “Forty-four.”

  His answer was muffled by the hand over his mouth, but the number was clear enough to understand.

  “You lied to me.” Too many thoughts raced through her mind.

  “Only about that one thing.”

  She rubbed her palm against her pants. “I think it would be best if you leave now.”

  Shock registered in his widened blue eyes. “Surely you won’t let a number interfere with our plans.”

  “No, but I can’t tolerate deception.” Not even for the sake of keeping Crosswinds.

  “Can we just talk?” His eyes pleaded for her to hear him out.

  “We’ll sit on the porch.” She was no longer comfortable inviting him into her home.

  “Thank you.”

  “Have a seat.” She pointed an arm toward the newly painted wicker furniture. “I’ll be right back.”

  Turning her back on him, she went inside and grabbed a sweater to ward off the nip in the air. She also grabbed her mace from her purse. Instinct told her Kristopher was harmless, even if a liar, but instinct had proved her wrong before—as recently as five minutes ago. She also grabbed her phone off the counter and slid it in her back pocket.

  Drawing in a long breath, she walked to the door and exhaled before she went to the porch.

  Kristopher sat in the far chair, his gaze wandering over the property. His head turned to her when the door slammed shut behind her.

  She took a seat in the chair across from him, leaving the empty loveseat between them. “Why didn’t you tell me the truth from the beginning?”

  “Would you have given us a chance?” His eyes locked on hers.

  He got credit for eye contact. A good sign he wasn’t a sociopath.

  “I don’t know.” Would I have? She really wasn’t sure. Most guys she had dated in the past had been within a five-year range older than her, or two younger. There were a few couples she knew of with a large age gap, but she’d never considered it for herself.

  “I’m sorry I lied, but I really liked you, and wanted you to give me a chance.” Genuine remorse showed in his expression.

  Not enough to change her mind. “Had you been honest from the beginning, then maybe this could have been different, but I can’t look past the lie.”

  It seemed odd to her that someone his age wouldn’t be attached. He was attractive, but did his personality turn people away? One little—big—lie and she doubted everything else he’d told her.

  What had driven him to find a love match online? The dating pool, presumably, was smaller at his age, and many people found lasting relationships through web dating. She couldn’t judge. She had done the same thing.

  Yet Kristopher gave her a bad vibe. Meeting him in person, even beyond the lie about his age, set off warning bells in her head. She was confused. Marrying him was out of the question, there wasn’t a doubt in her mind about that. But she was torn between finding him creepy and feeling sorry for him because he did come across as a genuinely nice man.

  Her gaze fell on the suitcase. “What are you doing with that?”

  “We decided I would stay here while we got to know each other.” His words were confident, his voice steady. He gave no indication he’d made up the statement.

  Except, she never would have agreed to that.

  Her level of discomfort rose even further. Was he delusional? Manipulative? Both? Why hadn’t she listened to Raina? Her older sister always had been the more reasonable of them.

  “We agreed that once—if—we married, then you would move into Crosswinds with me, and not before.” She tugged at her sweater, cinching it more tightly around her waist. “However, that’s a moot point now, as there won’t be any marriage.”

  “You’d risk losing this place because of one small discrepancy?” A chink in his armor came through with a mean glint in his eyes, and hard steel lurking behind his question.

  Sunny stood from her chair, her hand on the pepper spray in her pocket. “I’m sorry you’ve come all this way, but a relationship between us will not work out. I’m asking you kindly to please leave now.”

  Kristopher’s jaw tensed, quickly replaced by an adoring expression on his face. He reached out, touched her hand lightly. “I’m sorry if I came off brash. My disappointment in your rejection overtook my good senses and I apologize.”

  “Apology accepted.” Although she didn’t believe it for a second. “However, as I have stated, I think it would be best if you leave now. There’s no point in c
ontinuing a conversation that can’t lead anywhere.”

  He moved closer. “My age surprised you. I’m sure once you give it time to sink in, you’ll realize it’s no big deal at all. Remember all the long conversations we had, and how well we got along.” His hand trailed over her hair. “You have beautiful hair, Sunshine, that matches your name. Such pretty blonde.”

  Palpitations sent uneven heartbeats through her, and her skin crawled. Her head spun trying to process all that had happened in the last twenty minutes. She took in short, rapid breaths unable to forestall a panic attack.

  Oblivious to her destroyed nerves, Kristopher wrapped his hand on her, and pulled her close.

  Get it together, Sunny. Pull away before he kisses you.

  Chapter Two

  “Where am I?” Sean Pearson pulled off the road at the first convenient spot he could find.

  He leaned forward and tapped on the GPS unit to return to the main menu to verify he’d entered the correct address. There it was, 4203 Hideaway Lane. He bit the inside of his cheek and hit his fist against the steering wheel.

  Here he was—a world traveler—and he’d gotten lost outside of Linnsboro, in backwoods Pennsylvania. Gramps’s cabin shouldn’t have been this difficult to find. He’d gone there every summer as a child, but of course, at that age, he wasn’t paying attention to his surroundings. His thoughts had focused on the upcoming summer and seeing his cousins. The last time, and only time as an adult, he’d been here was for Granny’s funeral, and he’d been too upset to notice where he drove, and had driven on autopilot, following his parents.

  Still, shouldn’t something look familiar? Nothing he passed resembled any memories of the way to the cabin. And—thanks to Newton’s law—he couldn’t get any cell phone reception, not even standing on the top of his car. Which he’d tried in a moment of desperation a half hour ago.

  Pinching the bridge of his nose, he drew up his shoulders in a deep breath. New plan. He’d drive until the GPS told him to turn. If he was to turn right, he’d go left, and if it said to go left, he’d go right. He still might not find the cabin, but he’d have a chance of finding something. Anything.