Page 27 of The Summer We Lie

This is going to be the longest summer of my life.

Chapter Twelve

Skye

"We're here!" Harper says, pulling me out of my thoughts about the moment Dom and I had at the restaurant.

I look ahead and see the beautiful house we're pulling up to and gasp. It's like something straight out of an architectural magazine—all clean lines and huge windows reflecting the afternoon sun. Modern but somehow welcoming, with natural wood elements that soften the sleek design. Three stories of perfection perched on what looks like a cliff, with what must be an incredible ocean view on the other side. The structure seems to merge with the landscape around it, as if they had found a way to make concrete and glass feel like a natural extension of the rugged California coastline.

"Holy shit," I whisper, unable to help myself. My fingers press against the window like a child at an aquarium, drinking in every detail.

He parks the truck in a huge garage that has two nice cars in it—a sleek black Audi that looks fast even standing still, and some kind of vintage sports car in dark blue that probably costs a fortune.

Shit, how many vehicles does this man need? I wonder if having this much money means you just collect things because you can.

"I'll give you the grand tour and then we can change into our swimsuits and go down to the beach," Harper says, practically bouncing with excitement, her hair catching sunlight as she moves.

"Okay," I say, still in shock about this house. I guess I should have figured he was this rich after the amount he almost paid for my virginity, but it really didn't cross my mind. The numbers felt abstract then—just a solution to my problems, not something connected to this level of wealth. Not something real people actually had.

"I got the bags," Dom—err, Mr. Grayson says, and I follow Harper into the house, trying not to notice how easily he carries everything, as if our combined luggage weighs nothing to him.

The moment we step inside, I'm hit with the vastness of the space. The entryway opens into a huge living area with floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing a panoramic ocean view that steals my breath. Everything is sophisticated but comfortable—plush couches in neutral tones, a massive stone fireplace, and art on the walls. The space feels alive somehow, as if the room itself is breathing with the rhythm of the ocean beyond those windows.

"So this is the main living room," Harper says, sweeping her arm around. "Dad designed it himself, obviously. Kitchen's through there—it's ridiculous, wait till you see it."

She leads me through to a kitchen that would make professional chefs weep—gleaming countertops, high-end appliances, and an island big enough to prepare food for twenty people. Every surface catches the light in a different way, creating a symphony of reflections that makes the space feel even larger.

"This is where I'll be doing most of my baking this summer," she says with a grin. "Dad had the oven customized for me last year." She pats the massive stainless steel oven like it's a beloved pet.

We continue upstairs, where she shows me a home office with even more stunning views, one guest bedroom, and her room—a beautiful space with photos of her and her dad through the years, mixed with fashion magazines and baking books. Her space is a perfect balance of sophistication and normal teenage girl, just like Harper herself.

"Bathroom's shared up here," she explains, showing me a luxurious space with double sinks and a rainfall shower that makes me itch to try it immediately.

The third floor turns out to be what Harper calls "Dad's space"— his bedroom takes up the entire floor.

When we get back downstairs, her dad asks, "Which room do you want?" His deep voice echoes slightly in the open space.

Shit, I wasn't even thinking about that. I'm used to just taking whatever space is available and being grateful for it.

"If you want to be on the second floor with me, you won't have your own bathroom, but you can always take the master suite down here so you have your own bathroom. That way you can use the jacuzzi tub—I know how much you like your baths," she says, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

"Uhh... I'll take the first floor," I say. The thought of soaking in a jacuzzi tub after years of quick showers in our cramped bathroom at home is too tempting to pass up.

Her dad walks off in the direction of said room with my luggage, his movements fluid and purposeful.

"Okay, go change and meet me back here," Harper says, already bouncing on her toes with excitement.

"Yes, mom," I say as she grabs her bag and runs up the stairs, her energy seemingly boundless.

"Hurry up, bitch!" she yells on her way up, her voice echoing through the house.

I laugh at her crazy ass and make my way to my new room for the summer. Just as I'm almost there, her dad walks out, filling the doorway with his tall frame.

"I put your bags in there and got you some towels in the bathroom," he says, his voice softer than before.

"Uh... thanks, Mr. Grayson," I say, suddenly hyper-aware of being alone with him in this part of the house.

"Dom," he says, those dark eyes holding mine for a beat too long.