Page 37 of Miami Ice

More silence.

More staring at me.

“That’s interesting,” Aaron finally says as he cuts up another piece of ham for Stella.

“Very, very interesting,” Sofia adds slowly.

My neck grows hot under their scrutiny. “He’s bored, that’s all there is to it,” I say simply. “And look at the positive! He’s not going to a bar. The wildest thing at the place I’m taking him to is espresso.”

“You know what, Georgie?” Sofia says. “I think you are going to be a bigger influence on him than any of us ever could have imagined.”

Despite myself, my heart does that weird flutter thing inside my chest.

With a jolt, I realize it matches that feeling in my stomach.

Just like that, a new Swiftie song appears in my head.

“Blank Space.”

And for tonight, at least, I’ve already written Beckham Bailey’s name in it.

* * *

Tonight was incredible.

I’m still on a high as I walk with Sofia, Aaron, and the girls—both now in Elsa braids wrapped around their heads—to the family lounge after the game. The Manatees won, 2-1, and I had no idea hockey was so much fun to watch.

Or that watching Beckham made the game infinitely more interesting.

I know I’m getting myself into so much trouble. But it was fun to cheer him on with his family tonight. I winced when he crashed against the glass. Cheered for him when he took a shot. Even though he didn’t score, Aaron told me he was playing well tonight. He pointed out that Beckham’s passing put the Manatees into position to score one of the goals, and that was exciting to discover.

And I won’t deny that seeing Beckham on the ice was hot. I loved the way his inked skin peeked out from underneath his jersey sleeves. There was also one moment when he lifted his jersey to wipe some sweat off his chin and I nearly choked on the Diet Coke I was drinking when I saw what was underneath.

A completely ripped torso.

Every single one of Beckham’s abs was defined and chiseled. That simple flash of the body underneath that jersey was enough to make heat rush through me. His body was like nothing I had ever seen before. Pure, raw muscle and strength.

And it was the hottest thing ever.

“This is the family lounge,” Sofia says, interrupting my thoughts. “As Beckham’s girlfriend, you can come herewhenever you attend a game. Before, during, after—whatever you like.”

I hesitate on the threshold of the room as Sofia and Aaron enter with the girls. This will involve more lying. I cringe. None of these realities hit me when I first agreed to be Beckham’s girlfriend. I look around, spotting gorgeous women dressed in killer designer shoes and clothing, and some even have jackets or tops with the name and number of their significant other on them.

These women are most likely going to welcome me into this fold, never suspecting I’m only here to rehab Beckham’s image.

“Come on, I’ll introduce you to some people,” Sofia says breezily.

I decide I won’t feel guilty. I’ll be gone in a month, a blip on the radar, and I’m still doing what I am being paid to do—help Beckham establish himself as a serious, committed player on his new team.

Before long, I’m introduced to a bunch of women, and I do my best to try and remember their names and player affiliation.

I repress a grin as I see some curious looks at what I’ve chosen to wear this evening. Let’s just say my maniacal nutcracker sweater is a standout in the land of wives’ and girlfriends’ fashion.

I make small talk and tell the same origin story I used on my mom. We were introduced through Sofia, and we had a first date that went so well, we decided to be exclusive straightaway.

Stella and Lucy begin to get cranky—I know it’s way past their bedtime—and I’m about to encourage Sofia and Aaron to leave when players begin walking into the lounge.

I keep my eyes peeled on the doorway as player after player walks in. Then I see who I have been waiting for.

---