Page 88 of Miami Ice

He told me.

I know how momentous this is. Beckham is sharing another part of himself with me, just as I shared a piece of myself with him tonight.

I gently brush my fingertips over his cheekbone, then across his brows, and lightly draw my index finger down his nose.

“What are you doing?” Beckham asks, a smile in his voice.

“I want to remember everything about the moment you told me about your tattoos.”

He brushes another kiss across my lips. “You’re changing me.”

I gaze up at him, watching how the Christmas lights illuminate his gorgeous face, and move my hands so I’m framing it. My heart is beating fast from his words, and I have words to say back to him. But before I can, Beckham’s mouth claims mine again, and I lose myself in his kiss. In his arms, in this blissful feeling that is entirely new to me.

And as I kiss him back, one thought goes through my head.

You’re changing me, too, Beckham.You’re changing me, too.

Chapter Twenty-One

I relinquish Beckham’s hand as we walk up to Home Joy and make a beeline for the shopping carts. “We’re definitely going to need one of these. If the sales are bountiful, I might need another one.”

I hear Beckham’s laughter and turn around and look at him over my shoulder. The furrow I have in place immediately gives way when my eyes fall upon him. I know I spent hours making out with him underneath the Christmas tree, and he’s already picked me up this morning for this excursion to claim a life-sized nutcracker, but when I see him like this, my heart does a little version of hopscotch inside my chest, as if I haven’t seen him at all.

He’s so beautiful, I think as I drink him in.Inside and out.

First, he wanted to come with me to Home Joy. Beckham didn’t mind getting up early so he could go with me before he has to go to practice, and he picked me up with enough time to get some coffee and make it to the store right as they opened. He’s wearing a backward baseball hat—a black Miami Copperheads one—and a white T-shirt that hugs him snugly across his muscular chest. Beckham’s inked arms are in view, and he’s wearing a pair of athletic pants with the drawstring untied.

THE DRAWSTRING IS UNTIED. I don’t know what it is, but that is so freaking hot.

And this gorgeous hockey player is waiting for me, coffee in hand, ready to spend time with me in one of my happy places.

Sa-woon.

“Bountiful?” Beckham repeats, pausing to take a sip of his coffee. “Cupcake, you’re not like anybody I’ve ever met.”

“Because I used the word bountiful in a sentence?” I ask, pulling a cart out and turning it around, facing him once again.

“Yes. When’s the last time you’ve heard anyone use that word in a sentence?”

I wrinkle my nose as I consider it. “Hmm. I haven’t.”

“I rest my case.”

“But more people should use it. Bountiful is an excellent word.”

Beckham smiles down at me, and I see the corners of his eyes have crinkled up.

“What?” I ask.

“You’re adorable. That’s all.”

I think I’m going to float through the entrance to Home Joy.

We reach the doors to the store and they automatically open. As soon as we step inside, I stop pushing the cart. It feels like the entire store has amped up the Christmas theme—after all, Christmas displays have been out since July, it’s the American way, it seems—but now? It’s over-the-top bursting with holiday goodness. A sparkling array of pastel Christmas trees are right at the entrance, twinkling with lights and crammed with glittery ornaments. A table next to it is overflowing with pastel-themed Christmas decor, with items ranging from glass trees to gingerbread houses and a magical nutcracker under a cloche on a pink cake pedestal.

And a few feet behind the table, next to a display of Christmas-themed kitchenware?

The lone life-sized nutcracker.

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