Page 62 of The Summer We Lie

Ethan: Shut up Dom is talking.

Me: The girls invited Reed and his girlfriend to a bonfire tonight, you guys down?

Ethan: Wait my son? How did that happen? And yeah I'll be there, what time?

Logan: Hell yeah I'm down, you think Skye will put on another show?

I stare at Logan's text, my jaw tightening until I feel the muscle twitch. The memory of her dancing and singing when I came home drunk on Friday plays in my mind—I want those moves just for me. The sway of her hips, the flush on her cheeks, the way her body moved, like she was born for it. Mine. The thought of Logan or anyone else enjoying the view makes something primal and possessive rise in my chest, clawing at my ribs, demanding action.

Me: You're uninvited.

Dom removed Logan from the group chat

Me: That's better.

Me: Apparently they ran into them at a club last night and invited them over.

Ethan: LMAO! Cool let me know what time.

Me: Six ish?

Ethan: See you then.

I toss my phone on the couch and rub my hand over my face, pressing against the tension headache forming behind my eyes. There's a tightness in my shoulders that hasn't left since I first laid eyes on Skye. I'm not used to wanting someone this badly—to the point where I'm sending explicit texts detailing all the filthy things I want to do to her. The texts I shouldn't be sending to my daughter's best friend. Texts that cross every line I've ever drawn for myself.

The sound of a car pulling into the driveway catches my attention. I move to the window and see the Uber. Both girls climbing out. My eyes lock on Skye immediately—the curve of her hip as she stretches after the drive, the slight bounce of her hair as she laughs at something Harper says. Even in casual clothes, she steals my breath. The sunlight catches on her nose ring, that tiny rebellion that makes me want to discover every other secret she's hiding.

I step away from the window, trying to get myself under control. My hands flex at my sides, remembering the feel of her beneath them. Tonight I'll have to watch her, be near her, smell her scent, all while pretending there's nothing between us. All while Reed and his girlfriend, Ethan, Logan, Harper—everyone—is watching. A test of will that I'm not confident I'll pass.

Logan: Invite me back

Me: No

I walk to the kitchen to fill up an ice chest for the beach bonfire. We'll need plenty of drinks if we're hosting everyone tonight. As I round the corner, I spot Skye sitting at the dining room table, iPad propped up in front of her. She's on FaceTime, completely absorbed in conversation, unaware of my presence.

I pause, watching her. We still haven't spoken since the texts. The uncertainty gnaws at me—did I cross a line? Is she freaking out? Does she want to call the whole thing off? I should back away, give her privacy, but I'm rooted to the spot, desperate for any insight into what's going on in her head. The way the sunlight catches her profile makes my chest tighten. Something about her has crawled under my skin in a way I haven't experienced in years—maybe ever.

"I've been getting a lot of sketches done here," she says, her voice light and melodic. "Everything is so beautiful I can't help but put it on paper. The coastline, especially at sunset—the colors are incredible."

"Send me some pictures of them," a younger male voice responds. Must be Justin. I continue my task, grabbing beers and waters from the refrigerator, layering them methodically with ice in the chest, trying to look casual while straining to hear the conversation.

"Who's that?" a woman asks from the iPad, her voice carrying across the space between us.

"That's Mr. Grayson, Harper's dad," Skye explains, glancing over at me with those green eyes that seem to see right through my carefully constructed walls.

"Oh," the woman says, then whispers not quite softly enough, "he's cute."

"Mom!" Skye protests, her cheeks flushing that delicious pink that makes me want to see how far down that blush extends. I can't help but chuckle at her embarrassment.

Skye turns toward me fully now, that soft blush deepening on her cheeks. "Dom? Want to come meet my mom and brother?"

The invitation surprises me. It feels intimate, personal—a glimpse into her life beyond these walls. I walk into the dining room and stand behind Skye's chair, close enough to catch her scent—that sweet floral scent that drives me wild. My fingers itch to touch her shoulder, to establish some physical connection, but I resist.

"Mom, this is Mr. Grayson. And this is my mom, Stephanie," she says, gesturing to the screen where a woman with the same light brown hair and spattering of freckles smiles back.

I lean down slightly to get in frame, acutely aware of how close my face is to Skye's. "Nice to meet you. Call me Dom."

"Thank you so much for having my daughter this summer," Stephanie says warmly. "She really needed the vacation. She works too hard at home, always taking care of everything."