Page 150 of Miami Ice

“Yes! I’m buying you a drink!” Emilee says.

“Happy days!” Chloe cries gleefully.

Soon the table is filled with chatter, and I’m so proud of how far she has come. She’s ready for a new relationship, I can feel it.

I’m proud of me, too. I’m becoming a whole new person. I’m believing in myself more and more each day. I’m standing up for myself. Setting boundaries.

And allowing myself to follow my feelings for Beckham.

As drinks are brought to the table, and the conversation turns to what we are going to order, my thoughts remain firmly rooted on Beckham. Of how fast my feelings are growing and how it doesn’t scare me. I know I’m in the right place.

With the right man.

And I can’t wait to welcome him home tomorrow morning.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Is there anything better than a house that smells like cinnamon rolls fresh from the oven and hot coffee? And enjoying that scent while sitting in a kitchen decorated for Christmas with pink Santas and copious amounts of bright candy decor in shades of pink, sky blue, and seafoam green? With Wham!’s “Last Christmas” playing?

I think not.

I sit at the island in my pink button-down flannel Christmas pajamas with vintage reindeer, snowmen, and Santa all over them and take a sip of my coffee. It’s nearly five o’clock in the morning, and Beckham should be home any minute from his road trip.

I’ve gone all out to greet him. I’ve spent this week decorating the kitchen, the den, and I’ve got a spectacular display on the doorstep, too. Let’s just say there’s a big candy garland around his door, and a vintage Rudolph and Santa flanking each side of the front step.

My grump is going to hate it.

And absolutely love it at the same time.

A smile passes over my lips as I put down my coffee cup. Beckham is not expecting me to be up, but I want him to be welcomed home. I want him to have someone waiting for him, excited to have him walk through that door.

I want him to know I missed him.

Suddenly I hear the car and the garage door go up, and so does Winston, whose head pops up. Minnie is sitting in the chair next to me, and she gets up and runs toward the back door, meowing. Winston follows her inside the mudroom, and both of them wait eagerly for him to walk through.

I get up to wait with them, and soon the door swings open. Beckham—who is dressed in a black Miami Manatees T-shirt, backward baseball cap, and athletic pants with a Louis Vuitton duffel bag slung over his shoulder—stares at me in shock.

“Georgie, what are you doing? It’s five,” he says, his voice laced with surprise. “You should be in bed, sweetheart.”

“Welcome home,” I say happily, coming up to him and sliding my hands around his waist. “I wanted you to have someone waiting for you to come back. And here I am.”

His dark eyes lock on mine, and I see he’s moved by my words. He takes a moment, swallowing before speaking.

“I’m glad the person waiting for me is you,” he says, his voice low.

My heart skips happily inside my chest, and then his mouth is on mine, moving softly and sweetly against it. I lift my hands to his face, and it’s full of facial scruff, which I find incredibly hot. I stroke it, letting the scruff scratch against my palms, and savor the sweetness of his kiss. Then I pull back and put a hand on his chest.

“I know you’re on a special eating plan, but I did make cinnamon rolls if you want one.”

A playful smile forms on his sensual lips. “Are you going to lick the icing off my abs?” he teases.

I blush. “No.”

“Got it. You only do that if I’m drenched in disgusting condensed milk.”

I feel the heat creep down my neck.

“You’re adorable when you blush,” Beckham says, kissing me again.

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