Page 154 of Miami Ice

“I know it’s soon,” he continues, the words coming out in a rush. “And I don’t expect you to feel the same way just becauseI do. But I want you to know this isn’t infatuation or a crush or anything like that. I know because I’ve never felt this way in my whole life. I am really falling in love with you.”

He awaits my response, an anxious look clouding his handsome face. I begin to smile, and then I can’t contain the happiness that threatens to burst through from me.

“That’s good, because I’m falling in love with you, too.”

Beckham’s eyes widen. “You are?”

I nod eagerly. “I am. And I don’t doubt my feelings for a second. Did it happen quickly? Yes. Does it make it any less real or honest or true? No.”

Now his face lights up in pure joy. “You have no idea of how happy I am to hear you say that,” he says. “I was afraid to tell you.”

I trace my fingertip over his lips. “I’m glad you did. Because I’m falling so hard for you. I should be scared. But I’m not. I trust you with my heart, Beckham. I trust you with everything.”

I remove my fingertip from his lips, and his mouth captures mine in a kiss.

A kiss telling me that trusting this man with my heart is exactly what I’m supposed to do.

Chapter Thirty-Four

I reach the top of the stairs, but before I come down, I stay out of view and call down to Beckham. “Are you ready to bedazzled?” I yell out cheerfully.

“I don’t think I want you going naked to the Manatees holiday skate,” he shouts back from the bottom of the stairs.

“I can dazzle with clothingon, you know,” I tease.

“Oh, I know. I’ve beendazzledby your gift tag,” he deadpans. “Now come on down, the suspense is killing me.”

I appear at the top of the stairs and flash Beckham a triumphant smile. He stares up at me and groans. “Cupcake,” he says, shaking his head.

I continue walking down the stairs, grinning at him. I’m wearing a white sweater that has ‘FA LA LA LA LA LA’ in bright pink and red sequins on the front … and sequined candy canes all over the sleeves.

I reach the bottom of the stairs and smile as he scowls at me. Because I know that scowl is one hundred percent not real and just to tease me.

“It’s a holiday skate, Grumpy,” I say playfully, sliding my hands up his chest. “What was I supposed to wear? Black?”

Although now that I say it, I’m sure a lot of the wives and girlfriends will be wearing chic black sweaters or puffer vests.

Whatever. I’m my own woman.

Who is wearing a ‘FA LA LA LA LA LA’ sweater with candy canes.

“This will look totally cute when we sit on Santa’s lap for a picture,” I goad.

Beckham’s brows snap into a V. “What?”

“Megan told me they have a Santa set up on the ice,” I inform him gleefully. “And we can have our picture taken with him. It will be fun!”

“Oh no, we’re not. I am NOT sitting on a creepy old dude’s lap.”

“Oh yes, you are. If you want to bedazzledlater tonight, that is.”

“Blackmailer.”

I giggle, and I see his mouth begin to tip upward into a smile. “But I’m the blackmailer you’re falling in love with,” I remind him.

“Christ, what does that say about me?”

Now I’m laughing, and he is, too.

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