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Guess this was Oliver’s hiding place. Leaving her computer where it was, she reached for the bottom drawer. Empty. Darn. Where would he have put her cell phone?

Holding her breath to not wake him, she moved to the nightstand on his side of the bed.

The drawer slid open. Success! Plucking her phone out of the drawer, she grabbed her scattered clothes and tiptoed to her room.

After the fastest shower on record, she hopped into a pair of jeans and a long-sleeve, stuffed her charger and an umbrella in her purse, and crept to the front door.

“Was your plan to fuck me and sneak out?”

Oliver stood—naked and enraged—at the top of the stairs, muscles straining as he gripped the balustrade hard enough to snap it in two.

“I’m going to Galway. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“And how do you suppose you’ll get there?”

Feeling sheepish, she jangled the keys.

The muscles around his eyes tightened. He took the stairs down two at a time until he stood in front of her, nostrils flaring. “You were going to confront your brother’s wife by yourself?”

“Confront? No, I wasn’t going to confront anyone. She needs to find Kyle too. I’ll see what she knows, share what my investigator found, and we’ll go from there.”

“You never shared what your investigator found with me.”

“Trust is a two-way street.”

“You don’t even have an address for her.”

Now that she had her cell phone back, that could be remedied. “I’m sure the mayor of Galway isn’t that hard to find.”

“I don’t think he’ll appreciate his fiancée’s husband’s sister dropping by.”

Like she had a choice. “Less than three weeks, Oliver. Less than three weeks before the hearing. If Kyle isn’t back by then, Netta might go to her mother. She’s asking for a day a week. That might seem reasonable, right? Wrong. She could kidnap her, take her somewhere none of us can find her, and my niece will disappear. You saw my scar. You know her boyfriend is a registered sex offender. You’d entrust a child to that woman?”

“I’ll go with you.”

But the panic pooling in his eyes said enough. Forcing him to do something he wasn’t yet ready for would only hurt him, and he’d been through enough pain.

Laying her hand on his bearded cheek, she grazed his lips with hers. “We both know you can’t leave yet. It’s okay. Galway is close. I’ll be back before dinner.” One more kiss for good measure.

But he wrapped his arm around her waist and hauled her close, until her toes left the ground and her bag fell at their feet.

Gripping his chest for balance, she kissed him back until she was dizzy. When he set her aside, the keys were in his palm.

“Hey! No fair. Give me those.”

But he lifted them out of reach. “Give me a half hour—tops. Some tea, and I can do it. I left my LA home all the time. I can do this.”

Protective or suspicious? She couldn’t tell. “I’ll be fine. Trust me.”

She saw it in his eyes. He didn’t trust her.

Misplaced disappointment crashed through her. How could he trust her? They barely knew each other, connected only by her brother he despised. If the situation were reversed, she wouldn’t trust him either.

The realization worked better than an ice bath. When she stepped out of his reach, he didn’t make a move to haul her back.

The keys clanged as he shifted them from hand to hand, then extended them to her. “Here.”

She closed her fingers over the metal. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”