Page 48 of Twins for the Mountain Daddies

I watch from the couch as she frowns at the coffee machine, jabbing at buttons with the kind of determination that would be impressive if it weren’t so damn ineffective.

“Come on, you piece of shit,” she mutters, pressing the same button again. And again. The machine remains unmoved by her frustration.

Behind her, Holt snorts. “Still losing the battle, huh?”

She glares at him over her shoulder. “It’s a conspiracy at this point.”

“A conspiracy, huh?”

“Yes! A conspiracy to deprive me of my life’s blood, to keep me from my caffeine.”

He just grins, stepping up behind her and pressing a kiss to the side of her head. “Go sit. I’ll make your coffee. You can scramble the eggs.”

Ivy huffs but doesn’t argue, dragging herself over to the counter with a dramatic sigh. “One day, I’ll win.”

Holt smirks as he starts the coffee. “Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that.”

I lean back, watching her as she grabs a fork and stirs at the eggs in a lazy, absentminded way. It’s not just the way she moves that catches my attention—it’s the way she’sdressed. Gone are the tight pants, the form-fitting sweaters, the outfits that made her look like she’d stepped off a magazine cover.

She’s stopped dressing like she’s trying to impress someone.

Now, it’s oversized shirts and pajama shorts, the kind of thing you wear when you stop caring how youlookand just focus on how youfeel. And yet, somehow, she’s never looked better. The worn fabric slides off one shoulder, exposing smooth skin, the curve of her collarbone. Her shorts barely peek out from beneath the hem, long legs stretching beneath the counter.

It’s not like she’s trying to be sexy. That’s the thing—she’s justbeing. She’s just moving around in our space like she belongs here. Like she’s comfortable.

And somehow, that’s sexier than anything else.

Ivy hums softly as she stirs the eggs, swaying a little on the stool, completely at ease. She’s letting go in a way she hasn’t before, shedding some of the barriers she’s built up. Maybe it’s the storm, maybe it’s the exhaustion from everything that happened, but she’s different today.Softer.

And Hank? He can barely take his eyes off her.

He’s sitting at the table, pretending to read something on his phone, but I see the way his gaze flicks up—again and again—drawn to her like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. His grip tightens around the device when she licks a bit of cream from her thumb, completely unaware of the way she’s affecting him.

Or maybe she’s very aware.

I know exactly what’s going on. I’ve seen this game before.

Ivy encourages the attention, plays with the boundaries, pushes just enough to stir things up but never quite steps over the line. Sheenjoysthe chaos. It’s in the way she teases Holt, the way she lets Hank get close, but never too close. She’s feeling it out, seeing how far she can go, how much she can take before things shift.

And me? I watch. I wait.

Because Iknowhow this is going to play out.

Hank’s never been the sharing type—hell, he’s barely thesleeping with someonetype. The broody bastard prefers to keep to himself, locked up tight behind walls no one’s ever been able to get through.

But I can see how badly he wants her.

I hadn’t exactly planned on sharing, but I’m damn glad I did. Holt and I have always been close, but this? This has been a revelation. There’s no jealousy, no hesitation—just the sheer, unrelenting pleasure of giving in to what we all want.

Ivy. Our City Girl.Ours.

She has me hooked in a way I’ve never been before. I can’t get enough of her—her touch, her laugh, the way she looks at me with that spark of challenge in her eyes. At first, it was just about the sex. Now? It’s so much more. Every time she’s near, it’s like a pull deep in my heart growing stronger, more insistent.

I don’t know how this is going to end.

I just know we’re nowhere near done.

Hank, though? He’s still fighting it, still pretending he doesn’t want this, doesn’t want her. But I see the way he watches her, how his fingers twitch like he’s stopping himself from reaching out. It’s in the way his gaze lingers when she laughs, when she moves, when she bites her bottom lip in that way that drives me insane. He wants her. He just hasn’t let himself have her yet.

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