Page 94 of Miami Ice

“Oh, stop it,” I say, laughing, too. “I already know what I’m getting with you from last night.”

Now he quirks a brow. “Did I miss something last night? If so, I’m freaking pissed if I missed that.”

“No!” I say, giggling. “I could … erm … feel you when we kissed.”

WHAT AM I SIXTEEN, WHY AM I GIGGLING AND TALKING LIKE THIS?

“Ah,” Beckham says, his eyes crinkling up in the corners again in that adorable way he has. “So you already know you hit the jackpot.”

We start laughing again.

“But seriously, Georgie? Don’t be nervous. Antoni was nice enough to invite us over, and I’ve never heard anyone say he’s an ass. Unlike things that have been written about me,” he says softly, his mouth curving down in disappointment.

“Hey,” I say, putting my hand to his cheek, “there’s a Denver Beckham and a Miami Beckham. The Miami Beckham was always inside of you.” I move my hand to his heart, lightly tracing my index finger over it and gently tapping on it. “That man was right here. You just had to be ready to be him.”

I lift my gaze to meet his. His dark eyes are staring back at me with a sense of wonder in them.

“You make me want to be that man,” he says softly.

Suddenly I hear a dog barking, and we both shift our attention to the house. Antoni has opened the door, and he waves to us from the doorway.

Our little intimate moment is over, but I’m so touched by Beckham’s words that I’m nearly bubbling over with joy.

“Come on. Remember, it’s just appetizers with my neighbors. We need to get on their good side before you insist I put up some giant inflatable gingerbread man in my front yard next year.”

I mentally pause for a moment, digesting that sentence.

Beckham sees me in his life next Christmas.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

The fact that he does makes me so happy l could burst. But I keep that to myself and simply answer his question.

“Beckham. That is a brilliant idea,” I say, getting out of the car. “You have a whole yard that’s ripe for Christmas decorating!”

He groans and shuts his car door, and that makes me grin. I can just imagine doing something way over the top, like filling his yard with inflatables and covering every bit of his house with multicolored lights. I retrieve the cream-colored Mason jar I have filled with red roses and greenery and shut the door. Beckham grabs the pack of craft beer he brought, and we both head up the sidewalk.

“Welcome,” Antoni says cheerfully. “Glad you guys could make it on short notice. Kasia, sit.”

The fluffy white dog that had been eagerly barking at us obediently sits at his side.

I try to settle the nerves in my stomach as I take in Antoni. As you would expect with any NBA player, he’s obviously tall. He’s dressed casually in a T-shirt and jeans. One of his arms is heavily inked. He’s smiling warmly at us, and as we draw closer, I can see it reaches his eyes. And when I see that, the anxiety knot in my stomach begins to loosen up a bit.

“Hey, Antoni, thanks for the welcome to the neighborhood,” Beckham says, smiling as he shakes Antoni’s hand.

“Of course. It’s nice to have another athlete next door,” he says warmly. “This is Kasia, she’s friendly, just let her sniff your hand first.”

“Got it,” Beckham says. “This is Georgie Goodwin. You don’t have to give her your hand to sniff first.”

Antoni laughs, and I roll my eyes. “Ignore him. It’s nice to meet you.”

He shakes my free hand and then looks at the jar of flowers I’m holding. “That is beautiful, Becca is going to love that.”

“I hope she does,” I say, eager to make a good impression on her.

“She will. Come on in. She’s in the kitchen getting ready.”

I notice the home is filled with large windows and modern furnishings. There’s no Christmas decor in sight, which is a bit of a disappointment, but I have to remember not everyone is as Christmas forward in their thinking as I am.

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