Page 98 of Miami Ice

“Don’t be nervous,” I say. “Believe me, I’m not worried about what they’re going to think about you. If anything, I’m more worried what you’re going to think of them.”

“Cupcake. Don’t even worry about it. Like I said, I want to impress them. They’re your parents. I know this is important.”

“Not as important as how you make me feel,” I say, framing his face in my hands. “I feel so seen by you. And you’re just learning who I am. Believe me, I treasure that above everything else.”

Beckham’s dark eyes grow soft. Then he lowers his head and kisses me.

I kiss him back, and all I can think of is one thing.

Beckham isn’t used to a family like mine. He’s already picked up vibes on how my childhood was and how it has impacted me, even all these years later.

And all I can hope is that meeting them won’t cause him to have any doubts about getting involved with me.

It’s a new fear, one that has just hit me. Beckham has never met a woman’s parents. What if they’re too much? What if this is moving too fast for a man who has never had any commitments to anyone? Will having Thanksgiving for real instead of as part of a fake relationship be too soon?

I break the kiss and pull back from him. “Are you sure you want to meet my parents next week?” I blurt out. “I know it was all part of the plan when we were fake dating, but now it’s real and that’s a lot to put on you right away. I—I don’t want to do anything to wreck what we have, Beckham.”

He stares down at me, and I can’t read what is in his eyes. Beckham doesn’t speak for a moment, but when he does, his voice is firm and clear.

“Georgie. I’ve spent my whole adult life diving into things without thinking it was too soon or not right. Worse, I didn’t give a shit. But on Thanksgiving? I’m finally diving into something that is good for me. Something that I want. Not just for a day or a few dates. But something real that I hope I have for a long time. And that’s you.”

Then he kisses me as if to punctuate his point.

I kiss him back, my heart reassured by his sweet words.

Beckham Bailey is exactly where he wants to be.

And so am I.

Chapter Twenty-Three

This is bliss.

I’m sitting outside on the terrace of the Hotel Fredrico seafood restaurant, watching the surf roll in and listening to the rustle of the palm trees overhead. Beckham is sitting across from me, stretched out in his chair, the breeze ruffling through his chocolate-brown locks.

“I’m so excited for you to try stone crabs for the first time,” I say eagerly. “They’re so yum. Especially with cocktail sauce, which I like better than the traditional mustard sauce.”

A teasing glint enters those dark eyes of his. “So yum?”

“Okay, it’s not as good as my use of the word ‘bountiful’ earlier, but that’s exactly what they are. The meat is so sweet and delicious. It’s not like any other crab you’ve eaten. Now, that doesn’t mean I’m not going to devour the king crab legs I’ve ordered for dinner, but these are spectacular. Thank you for indulging me by ordering them. I know they’re expensive.”

An adorable crease appears on the bridge of his nose. “Cupcake, you know the price doesn’t matter to me. I’m sure you’re well aware of my contract. I can afford them and still have money for investments and savings.”

“I know, but I still recognize that this is a treat you’re giving me, Beckham. And I want you to know I appreciate that. And you.”

His gaze goes from teasing to soft. “Thank you, but it’s not necessary, Georgie. I know this about you. You never looked at me as an open bank account, unlike some women I’ve met. But to be fair, I just looked at them as a hookup, so I suppose it was an even exchange. Nobody saw the other person. Just their own selfish interests.”

Beckham has opened the door for me to bring up our arrangement. I want to get this conversation out of the way. I don’t want it between us as we begin this new relationship.

“Beckham, speaking of money, I want to make something clear. Now that we’re dating for real, I won’t be accepting the money Sofia offered me to fake date you.”

Beckham’s brows shoot up. “What?”

“I don’t want it. I’m not here with you for a paycheck, I’m here because this is exactly where I want to be. With you, as the man I want to date.”

He sits straight up in his chair. His face goes to one of complete shock.

Our server appears and sets a glass of Champagne down in front of me and a Diet Coke with lime in front of Beckham.

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