Page 155 of Miami Ice

“Come on, let’s go get this over with,” Beckham says, reaching for my hand.

“Okay, sir, that is not the attitude we are going into tonight with,” I say firmly. “This is our first holiday skate together. We’re going to have fun.”

“Sure.”

We head out the back door and get into his SUV.

“Wearegoing to have fun,” I say. “I’m excited to meet your friends.”

Beckham gives me a side-eye as he buckles his seat belt. “You mean try to see if Aiden has an interest in Scarlett.”

My cheeks and neck grow hot as he has read my mind.

“Admit it,” Beckham says as he turns on the engine. “You totally have that on your maniacal agenda tonight.”

“Maniacal agenda?” I ask.

He grins. “I’d call it that. Trying to play matchmaker with a player and the coach’s daughter? MANIACAL. One, because it will never happen, and two, if it does, it’s freaking doomed.”

“Somebody has been reading too many hockey romance recaps on BookTok,” I say in a singsong voice.

“But they aren’t realistic because they always end up together,” he sings back as we exit the garage.

Now I’m the one who is scowling.

“You know I’m right,” he says smugly as he clicks the remote to close the garage.

“You’re putting a damper on my mood,” I insist.

He reaches for my hand as he heads out of the drive. “I’m sorry. Do you want to listen to some Taylor Swift to feel better?”

Now I’m the one giving the side-eye. “Don’t toy with my emotions like that.”

“I’m not. I even curated a playlist for you on my last road trip home,” he says, messing with his console. Then I see the title “GEORGIE” come up.

“You made this for me,” I say, touched by the sweet gesture.

“I know it’s not the same as a forehead kiss, but I’m sure you’ll like it all the same,” Beckham says.

“I love it just as much,” I say as the first track begins to play. And it’s “How You Get The Girl.”

How you get the girl indeed,I think happily.

Before long, we reach the Premier Airlines Arena, and Beckham drives around to where players park before each game. We get out of the car, and as we’re walking up, we run into none other than Wyatt and Aidan Wentworth, who are just getting out of their car.

“Behave, Cupcake,” Beckham warns me in a low voice.

“Like I’m going to do anything,” I murmur back.

“You want to.”

“No, I don’t. I don’t know enough about either of them to want to do anything. I’m just curious,” I insist.

We walk toward them, and I observe the brothers as we draw closer. Aiden is a bit taller than Wyatt, I’d say by two or three inches. Both have wavy blondish-brown hair, but Aiden’s is a bit longer and more unruly. There’s always a dramatic lock of it sweeping down on his forehead that he always seems to push back in place whenever I see him on TV.

“I see you took family skate literally,” Beckham calls out cheerfully as we walk up next to them.

“Aiden is the only date I can get,” Wyatt says, flashing me a huge smile.

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