Page 156 of Miami Ice

Oh, I find that very hard to believe,I think.

“You must be Georgie,” he says, extending his hand to me. “Wyatt Wentworth. I’ve heard a lot about you. This guy never shuts up about you, actually.”

I glance at Beckham, who is now rubbing his jaw and looking incredibly embarrassed.

I shake Wyatt’s hand. “Georgie Goodwin, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

His brother extends his hand next. “Aiden.”

I shake his hand and study his face for a quick moment. He has nice facial features—like cut cheekbones and full lips—and a dramatic scar that runs over his left eyebrow. Both he and Wyatt have the same eye color—gray—and long lashes.

But I can already see the difference between them. Wyatt’s expression is one of openness and a bit of mischievousness, while Aiden’s is more serious.

I bet Aiden is the older brother,I muse.

“Should we get this over with?” Aiden asks.

“He’s still salty he has to be my date,” Wyatt teases as we approach the arena.

“I could have had a date,” Aiden insists. “But taking a date to a family holiday skate? That sends a message.”

“Shit, I should have thought of that beforehand,” Beckham teases, flashing me a huge grin.

“Want me to hit him, Georgie?” Wyatt asks cheerfully.

I smile at him. “No. I’ll just make him listen to Christmas music the whole way home as punishment for being rude.”

Beckham slings an arm about my shoulders and draws me into his chest. “You know I’m kidding, Cupcake.” Then he presses an affectionate kiss on the top of my head.

I go all melty inside. Not merely from the sweet kiss, but also from the fact that he called me Cupcake in front of his friends, too.

We enter the arena, and Beckham leads me to a new place I haven’t seen before—the Manatees dressing room.

“Why are we going in here?” I ask.

“To get my skates. Yours will be waiting for you in the WAGS lounge.”

Beckham opens a heavy wooden door, and the first thing I see is the Miami Manatees logo on a sleek black wall. He leads me down another corridor, where there are inspirational quotes about toughness and winning splashed across both sides, and then he opens another door that has a plaque next to it that says, “Dressing Room.” As soon as I step across the threshold, I stop walking. Ooh, this is exciting! I know I’m in a sacred space, and I take a moment to drink it in.

The room is spacious and circular, with each player having their own stall. The black home jerseys are hung in each player’s spot, pads behind them, and each player’s skates and helmet in the bin overhead. The Miami Manatees logo glows overhead from the center of the ceiling. At one end of the room is a large-screen TV, with two built-in white boards flanking each side of it.

“Do you know why the logo is on the ceiling, Cupcake?” Beckham asks.

I shake my head.

“In older dressing rooms, the logo is always on the center of the mat. And it’s bad luck to step on it.”

“Really?”

He nods. “Yep. You never step on the logo. But if you put it on the ceiling, you can’t step on it. And it’s symbolic. The logo—the team—is above all.”

“Now that’s clever.”

I find myself looking around the room for Beckham’s bench. I find he’s the last one on the right-hand side.

He leads me over to it and I decide to tease him. “Why are you in the far corner of the room?”

“Last one to join the team, you get what spot is left,” he says, flashing me a grin.

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