The Coldest Summer✓

Sixty-four

"Oh, is it?" Liam joins me slowly, a playful gleam in his eyes.

"Am I seeing a five-years-old you?" I tease him when he bounces up and down. When he suddenly takes my mouth in his, butterflies flutter their wings in my stomach.. "Liam," I breathe, fully aware that I can't handle him without parting my legs.

"What?" he quizzes gently, I giggle. "Oh, Kira. You are not possibly thinking of doing what you're imagining, are you?"

"Shut up." I slip away from the bed, laughing at his dirty insinuation. Doing it here? "You ought to be shameless, Liam." I fix my blouse and smother the heat off my cheeks.

The truth remains that I don't like this one. It's more of a big, rich family house, and I'm pretty far from that. According to Derek, it belonged to some old Hollywood celebrity that I don't even know.

"So, what do you say?" Liam asks, staring at me expectantly as we head downstairs.

"I think we should head for another one," I reply.

"Okay," Liam quips, and Derek regards us instantly. "Let's see the others, we're not pleased with this. My girlfriend wants something simple and cozy."

"Of course." Derek smiles, no offense taken. "Let's go to another one."

In a few minutes we're sliding along the ocean road, listening to the howling breeze from the distance. Derek's car is right in front of us as we finally arrive at a very eye-catching waterfront house. My, my, oh my! I'm awestruck at the sight of the beach streaming into view, quite near this little house.

"This way," says Derek, leading us through the gate.

Surrounded by an electric fence, the security detail of the place seems modern and sophisticated—Liam's sole concern. I mentally roll my eyes. We slowly step in, my hand in Liam's. Everything is super calm.

"Liam, look," I snap gleefully, eyes on the well-mowed garden and something else that steals my breath away.

A treehouse! .

"Well . . . '' Liam frees a hearty laugh as I gallop toward a giant tree holding a little cottage. "I think she's found a home."

"It looks like it," Derek replies and I'm already a few steps away from them.

"Is it furnished inside?" I ask Derek, gazing up at the treehouse..

"Why don't you climb up and see for yourself?" Derek laughs along with Liam, and I'm already ascending the wooden ladder.

I just love the idea of having kids playing in the treehouse. It's such a magnanimous sight to imagine in my head right now. Oh, my little babies will be so happy running around, playing hide and seek . . . Hold your horses, Kira!

Kids? Where did that come from?

What am I thinking now?

Inside, the treehouse is scintillating. Bright green and pink, it has tiny chairs, a beanbag, and other childish stuff, together with random murals—probably drawn by the kids of the previous owners—and I can feel the spirit of happiness in the shapes drawn; a donut, cake, flower . . . I can't even tell.

"Enough, Kira," Liam says loudly, and I decide to get down.

Derek ushers us inside as we've been lost with the little garden outside for a while. I gasp aloud at the sight of its immaculately white walls and ceiling. I love white in a house, as weird as it may seem to others. With some colorful furnishing, it always makes a perfect combination.

It already has a white plush sofa, embellished with mint and baby pink pillows. A black coffee table made of rough wood is standing in the middle, coupled by a pair of turquoise wing chairs. The windows are bay and large, same as the French door leading to the main patio.