Page 103 of The Devil of Downtown

Charlotte’s eyes flick from him to me to him again, sparkling with the kind of sibling curiosity that promises she’s already collecting data.

I tap Dane’s shoulder gently. “Hey,” I murmur near his ear, suddenly hyperaware of how this looks. “You can put me down now.”

He doesn’t move right away—of course, he doesn’t—his hands tighten briefly on my thighs, like he’s reluctant to let go. But after a beat, he lowers himself enough for my feet to touch the ground, and I slide off him, smoothing my fleece and pushing a hand through my hair.

Charlotte’s eyes track the whole movement, amused and curious and maybe a tiny bit thrilled.

“Sorry,” she says, lifting a hand in a half-apology that doesn’t match the grin tugging at her mouth. “I wouldn’t have barged in if I’d known you had... company.”

Dane exhales through his nose, somewhere between patient and resigned. “Charlotte, this is Ivy.” His hand brushes my lower back enough to send a quiet shiver through me. “Ivy, my sister.”

I step forward with a warm smile. “It’s really nice to meet you.”

Charlotte brightens immediately, like my reaction has put her at ease. “You too.” She lifts the canvas bag she’s carrying. “I came to cook him dinner, but—don’t worry,” she adds quickly, shifting her gaze between us, “I can absolutely get out of your hair.”

“No, please don’t,” I say at the same time Dane mutters, “Stay.”

She laughs, eyebrows lifting at our perfect synchronization. “Well, if you insist.”

Inside, I follow her to the kitchen to help while Dane crouches at the fireplace, stacking logs and coaxing the first crackle of flame to life.

She starts unpacking groceries—pasta, fresh herbs, a loaf of crusty bread—and I roll my sleeves up, offering, “Just tell me what you need me to do.”

“Oh, thank you, Ivy. If you don’t mind, you can chop those tomatoes?” She slides a cutting board my way, then glances at me sideways, the delighted twinkle still bright in her eyes. “You know... for a second when I saw you on his back, I thought you were Sloane.”

I laugh, grabbing the knife. “Yeah, she’s my twin. But don’t worry—it’s nothing kinky.”

Charlotte barks out a laugh so loud that Dane appears in the doorway, suspicion knitted in his brow.

“What are you two talking about?”

“Nothing!” we say together, which only makes him narrow his eyes before returning to the fire.

Charlotte leans closer, her voice dropping enough to be discreet. “I don’t want to interfere, or put weird pressure on anything,” she says, sliding garlic into the pan, “but... he never brings anyone here. Ever.” Her gaze warms. “So he must like you.A lot.”

Heat crawls up my neck, but in a strangely pleasant way. “We’re still figuring things out,” I mumble.

“Sure,” she replies, but the knowing look says she’s already decided what she thinks.

Dinner is relaxed and surprisingly fun—Charlotte’s easy, teasing Dane the same way I’ve only recently dared to. She tells me about all the hikes they’ve done around here, including one where Julian insisted they were being stalked by a bear, which resulted in an hour-long detour and a confrontation with an extremely aggressive turkey.

Dane rolls his eyes. “You’re exaggerating the turkey part.”

“Oh my God,” Charlotte fires back, “itchasedus.”

“That thing was eight pounds,” Dane counters.

“And full of murder.”

“Yeah, and so was I by the time we got home,” Dane drawls. “Honestly, it’s like hanging around with a couple of ten-year-olds.”

Charlotte throws a piece of bread at him, and some of the tension drains out of me. This easy, affectionate energy feels... normal. Human. Like stepping into a family I didn’t realize I’d missed.

Charlotte, with her quick wit and warm energy, already feels like someone I could genuinely like

After we finish eating, Dane stands and collects the plates. “I’ll get us drinks.”

He disappears into the kitchen, and the moment he’s out of earshot, Charlotte leans in again, her voice lowering, gentler now.