Page 55

But he didn’t let her go, crushing his mouth to hers hard enough for their teeth to clink. When he broke the kiss, she didn’t know which way was up.

“I’m going with you.” And he kissed her again.

The keys fell somewhere to the floor. She barely registered the sound. Oliver dragged a fever-hot hand along her rib cage—

“Oh my goodness! I didn’t mean to interrupt!”

Addison froze.

Mrs. Buckley?

Couldn’t be.

How had she slipped inside?

Slowly, she turned… Mrs. Buckley was there all right. She blinked at them from the open doorway, jewelry gleaming.

Releasing Addison, Oliver faced his housekeeper—buck-naked.

The woman’s face went crimson as her eyes traveled over Oliver’s body. What woman could resist looking? “I-I didn’t realize you were… I’ll leave you to it.”

With nothing else nearby for cover, Oliver pulled Addison in front of him like a shield. “Mrs. Buckley, we finally meet in person. Never would have expected it to be under these circumstances.”

The hot wall of him pressed against her back as Mrs. Buckley now tried to look anywhere but at them.

“This is Addison—”

Addison glanced up at him over her shoulder. “We met last week while you were upstairs napping.”

Mrs. Buckley held up a stack of books. “I should’ve rang ahead, but I brought those novels I mentioned. I’ll leave them here for you.” She set the books on the bench by the door. “I’ll go on.”

Touched, Addison stared at the colorful volumes. “That is so kind of you. I’d invite you in for breakfast, but I need to get driving for a time-sensitive errand.”

Mrs. Buckley frowned. “Driving? What about your tires?”

“What about them?” asked Oliver from behind her.

Mrs. Buckley gave them both a concerned look. “They’ve been slashed.”

Chapter 30

After a hurried stop upstairs to put on his shirt and sweatpants, Oliver waited at the door while Addison and Mrs. Buckley circled the car.

He should be out there with them. Instead, he remained inside, gripping the doorknob while cold sweat dripped down his back. Half a dozen times he’d tried to cross the damn threshold. Each time, his legs refused to move. Jaw clenched against his own uselessness, he waited for them to complete the inspection.

Addison narrated what she was seeing, as though she knew how much he hated this—being trapped. “Someone sliced them up good, and in so many places. These tires didn’t stand a chance. When could this have happened? Who’d have come up here in last night’s storm?”

“Kids, maybe? Just messing around?” suggested Mrs. Buckley.

“I don’t think so,” said Addison. “Someone did this to keep us here. But how would they know I planned to drive this car today? Oliver, do you think it was Sylvia?”

“Who’s Sylvia?” Mrs. Buckley asked.

“My brother’s fiancée. Ex-fiancée. She was here a while back. But why would she do this? How long do you think it would take to get these replaced?”

“We can call someone to come out, or have it towed into town,” said Mrs. Buckley. “It’ll take a few hours at least. Do you need a lift anywhere?”

“No. Galway is too far.”