Page 23 of Miami Ice

“Oh, there’s that bite again.”

“I told you, I’m not the Sugar Plum Fairy. Or a complete confection.”

Beckham grins. “You’re the only person I know who uses words likeconfectionin conversation.”

“It’s a lovely word. More people should use it,” I declare, taking off my other shoe.

“I’ll make a point to use it in a sentence this week,” he quips as he rolls up the legs of his dress pants.

Soon we are ready for a walk down to the beach. Beckham opens the patio gate and ushers me through it. We walk across the sand, the ocean breeze gently dancing across us. It’s a beautiful night in Miami, and the moon is large and beautiful in the sky overhead, illuminating the sand and the rolling surf.

“This is crazy to me,” Beckham says, breaking the silence between us. “I grew up in Wisconsin. I went to college in Vermont and began my professional career playing in Idaho before being called up to Denver. I’ve never walked on a beach in November. It’s surreal, in a way, to be here, you know?”

“It’s all I’ve ever known,” I say. “I grew up in Fort Lauderdale, went to the University of Miami, and now I live in the Brickell district.” I glance at him and see the confusion on his face. “That’s an area of Miami.”

“Gotcha,” he says. “So you’re a real adventurer, aren’t you?”

“I love Florida. I don’t see the need to leave.”

We reach the shoreline, and the water crashes over our feet.

“It’s even warm,” Beckham says, delighted.

“See? Why would I want to leave?”

“No, this is amazing,” he says, pausing and looking out over the dark horizon. “I remember the first time I saw the ocean. I couldn’t believe some people get to wake up and fall asleep to the sound of the surf. Or walk outside with a cup of coffee and get to have this view.”

“It’s beautiful,” I say, breathing in the salty air. “I love walking along the beach at sunrise. It’s so peaceful before seven o’clock.”

“Nope. Too early.”

I look up at his profile. The corners of his mouth are lifted up in a teasing smile, and the ocean breeze ruffles his dark locks. The moonlight seems to dance across his features, and I wouldn’t be human if I didn’t notice how incredibly handsome he looks right now.

Suddenly I hear his phone buzzing. Beckham reaches into his pants pocket and draws it out. “Sorry, please excuse me for a moment.”

“Of course.”

He glances down at the screen. “Sofia asked if I ran you off and if I’m afraid to message her.”

I smile at him. “At least you’re going to be able to give her a favorable report tonight.”

“Right? I bet when she didn’t hear from me within an hour, she assumed I had blown it and was afraid to tell her.” He shoves his phone back into his pocket and casts his gaze out over the water again.

“You get along well with her. I can tell.”

He nods. “I do. She can be a bossy pain in the ass, but I love her.” Beckham shifts his gaze from the ocean and down to me instead. “Too bad we don’t have a blanket. This would be a great place to sit and watch the waves.”

“Oh, we can sit if you like,” I say, smiling. “This dress will go to the dry cleaner anyway. Unless you don’t want to have to drive home in sand.”

“Drive home? I’m staying here until I buy a place. I think I can handle an elevator ride with sand on my ass.”

We move back a bit and drop down onto the golden sand. I tuck my legs up underneath me, and Beckham stretches his legs out and leans back on his elbows.

“This is freaking fantastic,” he says. “Although it doesn’t feel like the holiday season, being on a beach when it’s seventy-five degrees out.”

“Oh, it doesn’t feel like the holiday season because you aren’t embracing it,” I tease.

He cocks his head toward me. “Please. I don’t feel the holiday spirit because I’m not embracing mass commercialism?”

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