Page 99 of Miami Ice

“Your stone crab will be out shortly,” she says, smiling at us.

“Thank you,” we both murmur.

As soon as she leaves, Beckham speaks. “Georgie. No. Absolutely not. I insist you have that money.”

I shake my head. “No. Because nothing about this is fake. Or a work task I have to perform. I’m here because I’m lucky enough to have met you. I’m here because you’re so different from any man I’ve ever met, and I’m here because you see something in me, too, and for that I feel lucky. So I will not take that money. I will not.”

“I want you to have it,” Beckham says, his voice firm. “I insist you take it. You need that money, sweetheart. I want to gift it to you to get your business going.”

“It’s too much.”

“It’s nothing to me. But everything to you.”

I swallow. There’s no arguing those words.

“You were willing to take it from me as a stranger,” Beckham says, his gaze pinning me. “Now I want you to take it from your boyfriend.”

I gasp.

Boyfriend.

I knew we wanted to see each other, and from the moment he declared he had feelings for me, I’ve been his girlfriend in my heart. But I didn’t dare say that word to him so soon. Not coming from a man who has never wanted to date a woman exclusively, let alone be someone’s boyfriend.

“That’s what I’ve been to you since the day we met, right here at this very restaurant,” Beckham continues. “Then it was fake. Now it’s not. But that agreement brought you into my life and I’m … I’m grateful. I’m grateful to be here with you. To have this chance to date you and be your boyfriend. So I want you to have this money. For taking a chance on a crazy deal that sounds like something out of a hockey romance book. Georgie, it’s yours. Now more than ever—now that I know you—I want you to have it. You deserve to give your business a chance. And nothing would make me happier than to see you use this money and become the successful artist that is locked inside of you.”

My eyes begin to fill with tears.

“I insist you have it,” Beckham says, his voice rough. “Take it, Georgie. No strings attached. It’s yours.”

Now a tear slips down my cheek, and he reaches across the table and wipes it away with his thumb, his rough, calloused skin brushing across my skin.

“Nobody has any idea of how special you are,” I say, my voice thick.

“Come on, tell me you’ll take it.”

I exhale. “Okay. I will. Thank you, Beckham. Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome. The fact that you wanted to give it back makes me want you to have it that much more.”

More tears slip from my eyes, and Beckham continues to sweetly wipe them away.

“So … you’re okay with being my girlfriend?” he asks softly.

I flash him the biggest smile. “I’m more than okay with it. I want to be called your girlfriend. And for you to be my boyfriend. As long as that doesn’t scare you.”

A teasing smile tugs at his mouth. “Do you know what would scare me more?”

I shake my head.

“The idea of you not being my girl.”

My girl.

“That probably doesn’t make you go as feral as MY WIFE, but I think MY GIRL has infinite possibilities on the feral chart,” he adds.

“Beckham?”

“Yeah?”

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