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Addison took a sip of tea. Strong, creamy, sweet. No latte, but it would do. “Did you grow up around here?”

“Not too far away from here. Raised my kids here too.”

What it must be like to grow up in such a quaint part of the world. “How many kids do you have?”

A smile broke across her face. “Two. My son’s in London now, and my daughter’s about your age.” Mrs. Buckley finished her tea. “I really should get to it. Keep me company while I work?”

“I could use the company too. Oliver isn’t exactly the chatty sort. There’s no television here and I don’t think the landlord believes in owning fiction books.”

“Well, the good news is I’ve plenty of books. I’ll drop some off to you.”

The best news she’d heard in a while. “Mrs. Buckley, you’re a lifesaver.”

The woman launched into a description of a new series she just started, but Addison’s thoughts returned to her earlier comment—the car has never moved.

In the past week of her being here, Oliver had never left the house.

Why would he come to Ireland to find Kyle but then never actually go out and look?

He must know where her brother was… right? But if that were the case, why wait three months? And why here, in the middle of nowhere?

He’d already revealed more than she herself knew about Kyle—the new marriage. Even her PI hadn’t been able to find that out. Maybe she needed to rethink her strategy and rejoin Roman and Mandy.

Mrs. Buckley finished cleaning, sliding her supplies into the caddy.

Addison rose from the table. “Mrs. Buckley, may I borrow your phone? I need to send a text, but my battery died.”

Mrs. Buckley didn’t even blink. “Of course.” Reaching into her pocket, she handed the device to Addison.

Typing with warp speed, Addison sent Roman a text, deleting it from Mrs. Buckley’s phone before returning it back to her. “Thank you.”

After Mrs. Buckley left, Addison stayed in the kitchen, knowing full well that Oliver wouldn’t make an appearance. He reminded her of a feral cat, warily stalking the shadows.

For the last week, she’d turned over every item on the first floor in the hopes of identifying anything Oliver might know about Kyle. Zip. Nothing. Worse, he’d kept her electronics with him. How would she ever hear if Roman had found Kyle without her phone?

Half of her wanted to march up there, grab Oliver by his earlobe, and drag him out of his room like some wayward child from a 1950s TV show. But that would do neither one of them any good. She might end up in his bed again. A no-go.

But she had to get him to open up, to share what else he knew about her brother. Time was ticking away and she was no closer to finding Kyle than when she’d arrived. What if she lured him downstairs instead? Without a bed around, the move seemed much safer.

How to get him to leave the safety of the second floor?

Bet walking around naked would do it.

The idea took hold for a few brief moments… No, there had to be another way. The goal was to not sleep with him.

She could sit on the couch in the dark and wait for him to come get his cereal. Then what? Demand he show her his electronics?

A few months ago, a neighbor’s cat had burrowed into her parents’ detached garage. No amount of cajoling would get it to leave its hiding spot behind the storage cabinet. A nice juicy steak had done the trick.

Maybe the same strategy would work here. Mrs. Buckley had left an assortment of meats in the fridge. Oliver’s meal of choice, she’d said. If that was true, he must be tired of his cereal by now. It was close to dinnertime, and as usual, he hadn’t come down. The man must have a stash of muesli in his bedroom.

From the fridge, she pulled out two steaks and potatoes. Mrs. Buckley had brought plenty of those too. If meat and potatoes didn’t lure Oliver downstairs, she might as well give up.

When the potatoes were ready, she mashed them with a liberal serving of butter. Heating the cast iron to screaming, she tossed on the seasoned steak. The mouthwatering scent of frying meat filled the kitchen. What man could resist?

Soon, the steaks were done, and she set them aside to rest. Untying her apron, she returned it to the hook by the refrigerator and glanced down at her outfit. A shirt that kept falling off one shoulder, leggings she’d had for years. Comfortable. Simple. A small voice deep inside whispered that she should go change into something that would make him look at her in that way that curled her toes in her socks. But no, the goal was to keep that out of this. Strictly business. Find Kyle first—before Oliver got his hands on him.

Turning off every light except for the tiny solo lamp on the counter, she waited for Oliver. Nothing. Did he not smell the steak? It must have reached him, even in his room.