Chapter 23
Chapter twenty-three
Ivy
I wake to a kind of quiet that feels unreal—no Elsie giggling as she uses my bed like a trampoline, no city noise bleeding through the walls, no traffic, no sirens, nothing that normally drags me back into the world.
For a moment, I blink up at the ceiling, trying to piece together where I am, until the scent of pine and fresh coffee drifts under the bedroom door and everything comes rushing back from the edges of sleep.
Dane.
His house.
Oh...and last night...
My cheeks heat at the memory.
I stretch under the thick linen sheets, soaking in the warmth and the rich scent of Dane, then push myself upright.
Morning light spills through floor-to-ceiling glass, illuminating a view so stunning it knocks the breath out of me—a mirror-still lake reflecting the mountains behind it, the peaks sharp against the soft gold of the early sky.
The entire scene looks like it belongs in a National Geographic spread, not outside the bedroom window of the man I’m. .. whatever we are.
At the foot of the bed, my dress is folded neatly, and draped over the nearby chair is a soft gray jumper that’s unmistakably his. I slip it on. It’s oversized, warm, and smells faintly like his cologne.
Padding out of the room, I follow the sound of his voice down the hallway.
The house unfolds around me. Vaulted ceilings with exposed beams, a stone fireplace big enough to stand in, hardwood floors that cool my bare feet, and enormous windows that make it feel as though the mountains themselves are spilling right into the room.
I find Dane in the kitchen, leaning over the island, phone on speaker.
“...that’s not my problem,” he says, with the clipped authority of someone who is used to being obeyed.
“If they want the deal, they’ll fix their end by noon.
” He’s shirtless, wearing nothing but dark shorts that cling to his powerful thighs, his hair still sleep-rumpled, his muscles flexing with every shift of his stance.
A plate of pancakes sits on the counter beside him, steam curling up from the stack, along with a bowl of berries and a carafe of coffee that smells like heaven.
He glances up, and the moment his eyes land on me, the hard business edge melts.
Without pausing the conversation, he reaches out with one hand, pulls me to his side, and presses a slow kiss to my mouth, soft but sure, like greeting me this way is instinct. My breath stutters.
“Hold on,” he says into the phone, tapping the mute button.
He pours me a cup of coffee, sliding it toward me, his green eyes dragging over me. Then he cuts a piece from the top pancake, lifts it to my lips with the fork, and waits—patient, but with that unmistakable Dane intensity that says he knows exactly what he’s doing.
“Eat,” he says, pushing a plate toward me. “I’ll just finish this call, then you’re all mine.”
By the time I finish the last bite of pancake, I’m warm, full, caffeinated, and entirely overwhelmed by all the feelings bursting to life.
If his aim was to ruin me, he’s getting dangerously close.
I wander down the hall after cleaning up the breakfast things, drawn to a cluster of framed photos arranged along the wall, snapshots of summers by the lake, blurred photos of three siblings who clearly bicker and love in equal measure.
My smile falters when my eyes land on one picture tucked in the corner—Dane with his arm around a beautiful blonde-haired woman, both of them dressed for some formal event.
Helena. I can’t help noticing how different she is from me, and I can’t decide if that’s good or bad.
I don’t look at it long, but something unsettles in my chest, anyway.
Before I can pull my gaze away, I feel him—Dane stepping up behind me, his palm sliding around my hip as he presses his mouth into my hair, warm breath brushing the shell of my ear.
“You up for a hike?” he murmurs, voice a low scrape that goes right through me. I lean into his touch, my head turning slightly. “Why are you worried I won’t make it?” I tease.
“It’s pretty steep,” he says, giving me the chance to bow out.
“Hey, I’m younger than you,” I fire back. “I’m pretty sure I can keep up.”
His voice drops low, amused. “Sweetheart... you’ll be begging me to slow down.”
“Challenge accepted.” I fold my arms, spinning to face him. “The only problem is I don’t have any clothes. And before you say anything, that’s not an excuse.”
He takes me to a walk-in closet lined with neatly arranged shelves and racks and opens a lower drawer with a flick of his wrist.
“Charlotte keeps clothes here,” he says. “She visits a lot. She’s about your size.”
I sift through the options: fitted leggings, thermal tops, a forest-green fleece. Everything looks soft, quality, lived-in. There’s even some hiking boots in the same size as me. I pull out a few pieces just as my phone rings from the bedside table.
Sloane.
Of all the timing.
“Hey Sloane,” I say, trying to sound normal.
“Where are you?” Sloane demands. “Your bed last night was untouched.”
“Stayed at a friend’s,” I lie quickly, turning slightly so my voice bounces off the closet and not toward Dane.
“Brody?” she asks, trying to sound casual, but I hear the anxiety beneath the surface.
“No, just someone you don’t know.”
“Since when do you have new friends?” Suspicion drips from every syllable.
“Since always,” I lie again. “How’s Elsie?”
“Currently covering the table in glitter.”
I smile. “Sounds about right.”
Worry creeps back into her tone. “You sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine. Promise,” I say, glancing at Dane, who’s leaning against the doorframe, watching me.
We talk for another minute before I hang up, turning back to Dane.
“You need to tell her,” he says, firm and absolute.
“I will as soon as I get home.”
“Good.”
He studies me for a beat, then adds, “If you want, I can tell her.”
“God, no,” I half shriek. “It’s better coming from me.”
A low laugh rumbles in his chest as he moves closer and brushes his knuckles along my jaw. “Then hurry up. I’m not waiting long.”
He leaves me to get ready, and as I step into the leggings and zip up the fleece, my mind drifts to Brody, to that flicker of worry I keep trying to ignore. I’ll text him later, I tell myself. He probably ended the night with one of the women hovering around his booth, anyway.
When I find Dane in the kitchen, he’s already changed into a fresh T-shirt and joggers, looking unfairly good even out of his bespoke suits.
I help him gather food for the day—granola bars, fruit, and a few sandwiches.
I enjoy seeing this version of Dane, not the one that dines out at Michelin-starred restaurants five days a week.
Every time I pass near him, his hand grazes my back. Or his fingers trail lightly over my arm. Or his palm settles briefly at my waist as he reaches around me to grab something from a cabinet.
It’s unconscious. Or semi-conscious.
Either way, it’s doing things to me.
“Do you do this with everyone?” I tease as he brushes a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
He doesn’t bother pretending. “No.”
I swallow.
He hands me a water bottle, mouth curving slightly. “Ready?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. Let’s go.”
Outside, the wintry air bites in a way that wakes every nerve. The sky is a crisp, cloudless blue, and the lake glints like glass behind the house. Tall pines surround the property; their scent fresh and earthy.
The trail starts behind a cabin, weaving through trees; the incline is gradual but steady. I fall into rhythm beside him, our boots crunching over frost-kissed leaves.
Only a few minutes in, I crouch beside a cluster of bright red wintergreen berries pushing through the frost. “Elsie would love it here,” I say, smiling despite myself. “She hoards anything tiny or colorful. Flowers, sparkly stickers... last week she tried to collect raindrops.”
He huffs out a quiet laugh. “I can tell you like spending time with her.”
“Yeah, I watch her a lot when Sloane is working. She’s very special to me. You know, if Elsie doesn’t like someone, they’re pretty much dead to me.”
“Oh, so my fate rests in the hands of a five-year-old. That’s reassuring.”
“Yep,” I laugh. “But she’s easily bribed with gummy bears.”
“I’ll bear that in mind,” he says drily. “I guess it’s the same for me and Charlotte. Someone needs to be a special kind of asshole for her to dislike them.”
His eyes soften at the mention of Charlotte, and I can tell they’re close. I can’t lie; it’s nice to see Dane in the role of protective big brother. Something tells me it’s extremely hard to win Dane Black’s heart, but once you do, he’ll do anything for you.
“And what’s Julian like?” I ask, intrigued to find out more about his family. “You and he seem quite different.”
“Julian is sort of complicated.” Dane frowns. “He acts like the wolfish, nothing-touches-me type. But when our mother died... he took it harder than any of us expected.”
The way he says it—flat, almost cold—softens something in me. I risk it anyway. “You must have too?”
For a moment, I think I’ve gone too far. But he just looks out at the trees, jaw tight. “Julian... he feels everything. Loudly. I've always kept it to myself.”
The flat certainty in his voice twists in my chest.
I nod slowly. “Sloane’s like that. She’s only five minutes older, but she acts like she’s five years older. I guess elder siblings come prepackaged that way.” I glance at him, smirking. “You and Sloane are actually kind of similar.”
“Oh?” His smile says he already knows exactly where I’m going with this. “How’s that?”
“You know... bossy, control freaks—”
I yelp as he swoops in, scooping me over his shoulder like I weigh nothing. My shriek bounces off the trees, and I clutch the back of his jacket for dear life.
“Hey! Put me down!”
“You might want to rephrase that,” he warns, laughter rumbling in his chest, his arms locked tight around my wriggling legs.