Page 15 of Miami Ice (Miami Sports #2)

I stare at Beckham, my heart slamming against my ribs as I digest his words.

“Oh my God, you’re jealous,” I say without thinking.

“I am NOT jealous,” he snaps.

I can’t stop smiling. He’s SO jealous. And I know this thought shouldn’t make me want to turn cartwheels all across Miami, but it does.

“Quit smirking. I told you, I’m not jealous,” Beckham insists.

“Okay. Sure.”

“I am NOT!”

“Okay.”

“Cupcake. Did you ever stop to think I just want to protect you from guys who would take advantage of you as soon as they think I’m no longer in the picture? I like you. As a person , I mean, I like you. You made it clear you like relationships and these guys don’t. Therefore, I don’t want to set them off on you. And that’s all there is to it.”

My desire to do cartwheels comes to a screeching halt. I feel the smile drop from my face, and my heart does this weird slide thing that makes it feel as if it’s fallen into my stomach.

Of course. That makes complete sense. More sense than him being jealous, actually.

So if this makes sense, and we’re only fake dating, why is there a sudden ache inside my chest wishing he were actually jealous instead?

We both fall silent for a moment, driving past shopping centers already lit up with Christmas displays and lights. Rap music is the only sound in the car, and the mood is now awkward.

I clear my throat. “Well, I appreciate your concern, but I have to wear the tube top since it’s a gift from the captain’s wife. Unless you would like to explain to your NEW captain why I’m insulting his wife by not wearing something she made for me.”

Silence.

“And unless you’re going to gift me some article of clothing with your number on it, that’s all I have to wear next Friday,” I continue.

More silence.

I turn and keep my gaze glued to the scenery passing by. Normally the sight of Christmas lights and lit palm trees makes me happy inside, but instead I feel this weird combination of being embarrassed and angry at myself.

Beckham clears his throat. “I—I overstepped. I’m sorry.”

I turn to look at him. His eyes are glued on the road, of course, but at least he’s said something to break this tension between us.

“Apology accepted.”

“I’d still like to suggest you wear a coat,” he says quietly. “You’ll freeze in there if you don’t. The WAGS section is on the lower level.”

I manage a smile. “I promise I’ll wear a coat.”

Another silence falls between us, but this time, I decide to be the one to break it.

“You leave tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, I fly out tomorrow afternoon. Quick trip to Orlando.”

We reach my apartment building, and Beckham pulls up to the front. He idles the car, and I still don’t like the awkwardness I feel lingering between us.

“Would you like to come up?” I blurt out.

Oh, Georgie, why, why, why did you ask him that? What do you want to do with him upstairs? Usually you only invite a guy up if you want something to happen!

And obviously nothing is going to happen between me and my fake boyfriend.

BookTok would be SO disappointed.

“ Why? ” Beckham asks, a crease appearing on the bridge of his nose.

GREAT QUESTION, BECKHAM.

“Because you haven’t seen my apartment lit up for Christmas,” I lie.

That’s not a lie. He hasn’t seen it.

Beckham just never needs to know that wasn’t the real reason for inviting him up.

“And I need to see it now?” he asks, quirking a brow.

GAH, he would make this awkward.

“No, but since we’re here I thought I would offer.” Suddenly I’m hit with inspiration for this narrative and continue. “My parents will likely bring up my Christmas lights on Thanksgiving, so I thought you might be prepared. But it’s not a problem, I can send you photos if that’s easier.”

There. I sound like I’m all about business and I’ve given him an opt out with photos.

“No need for photos, Cupcake. I’ll come up.”

Beckham swings his car through the drive and enters the parking garage, and now my head is whirling. He’s coming up. It means nothing, of course, but at least it will give us a chance to reset and hopefully eradicate any weirdness left from the whole stupid tube-top conversation.

He pulls his Bronco into a space marked for visitor parking and turns off the engine. We both get out of the car and take the elevator up to my apartment.

“Why do I feel like I’ll need my sunglasses for this light show?” Beckham asks me.

Relief sweeps over me. Good. He’s back to being a smart ass, and that is definitely putting things back to where they were before.

“No. There’s no need to run back to your car and get them,” I say as the elevator chimes open. I retrieve my key card out of my purse as we walk toward my door. I smile up at him as I insert it in the lock. “Prepare to be dazzled .”

The door clicks open, and I step inside.

“Are you going to take it like a good girl?” Jordan commands.

I abruptly stop walking. For a moment, I’m frozen in horror.

Jordan and Ella are having sex on the kitchen table. Ella is covered in whipped cream and sprinkles, and I don’t know what is even happening. Why am I staring at my naked sister covered in whipped cream? And oh my God, now I’ve seen Jordan naked and I’ve seen his—

I scream and throw my hand over my eyes. Beckham runs into my back since I’ve stopped dead in my tracks. “Whoa!” he says.

Suddenly I hear Ella scream and Winston barking.

“Shit!” Jordan cries. “Shit!”

“Oh my God, why—what are you—” Ella babbles.

“I’m not looking and I’m taking Beckham to my bedroom,” I say, keeping my gaze locked straight ahead.

“Oh my God, I want to die! ” she shrieks.

I act as if I have horse-racing blinders on and reach for Beckham’s hand. “Don’t look,” I command as I tug him behind me.

“Like I’m going to look?” he retorts.

“Oh my God!” Ella wails.

I drag Beckham to my room and throw open the door, turning on the lights. Winston follows us inside. I shut the door behind us and sag against it, trying to unsee a naked Jordan with a naked Ella, both of them covered in whipped cream.

“Cupcake,” Beckham says slowly, “when you told me to prepare to be dazzled, I had no idea you were preparing to show me live porn .”

That does it. I look at him and burst out laughing, and he does, too.

“That has never happened before,” I declare. “I can’t believe I walked in on Ella and Jordan having sex!”

Beckham walks around my room—which is also decked out for Christmas, complete with a pink Christmas tree twinkling with multicolored lights in the corner and a collection of tabletop trees in gold, silver, and white on my nightstand. My gray, padded headboard has an arrangement of faux pine branches entwined with white lights at the top, and my white bed linens are spruced up with pink Christmas pillows, including one that says “HO HO HO.” I have loads of soft pink and white throw pillows on the bed, and a pink faux fur blanket folded across the end of it.

He finally sits down on the end of my bed, and Winston heads up his dog ramp and takes a seat next to Beckham, who begins to pet him. “Looks like Winston enjoyed the show, he’s got whipped cream in his fur.”

I groan and sink into my desk chair, spinning around so I can face Beckham. “Hey! I just thought of something. That was my whipped cream and sprinkles they were using. Those are my hot chocolate supplies!”

I’ll never be able to look at my hot chocolate bar the same way ever again.

Beckham quirks a brow. “Are you going to demand they replace your stash? Or are you going to take that like a good girl, Georgie?”

We crack up all over again.

“Ella is so mortified,” I say, shaking my head. “And I’m sure Jordan is, too. But GAH, why didn’t she tell me she had sexy plans? I could have gone to a coffee shop or something until they were done!”

“A coffee shop? Georgie. You could have hung out with me until they were done fu—erm, having sex,” Beckham says.

I smile. I love that he tries not to swear in front of me.

But I love even more that he would have hung out with me of his own free will.

GEORGIE. Do you not remember what just happened with the tube top? Beckham has a friendly interest in you and nothing more.

“Hey. If you flip that ‘HO HO HO’ pillow around, you have what was about to happen in the kitchen if Ella took it like a good girl,” Beckham says.

I glance at the pillow and mentally flip it in my head.

It would say, “OH OH OH.”

I dissolve into giggles. “You are so naughty.”

“You have no idea how much,” he says, quirking a brow as he pets Winston’s head. Then he looks around. “Even your room is pink Christmas.”

“I love a good theme,” I say. “Oh! On Connectivity Cork Board, I found a child’s room that was done up like a Candy Land Christmas, and I was so tempted to do it for myself.”

“I don’t know what a Connectivity Cork Board is, but that sounds nauseating.”

“Grumpy.”

“If not wanting a bedroom for a six-year-old makes me grumpy, I’ll proudly wear that as a badge of honor.”

Suddenly there’s a light rap on my door. Beckham and I share a look, as we both know that has to be a very embarrassed Ella knocking.

“We’re both decent, come in,” I tease.

Ella pops open the door. She’s changed into an FSU T-shirt and shorts, and her hair is swept up into a ponytail, but I still see dried bits of whipped cream and sprinkles in it.

“Um, I’m so, so sorry about that,” she says, her face flushing bright red as she speaks. “Erm … we lost track of time and didn’t expect you back so soon and I’m really, really sorry.”

“I’m sorry we walked in on you,” I say. “Consider it forgotten.”

She looks at Beckham, and I can tell she wishes the floor could swallow her up. “Um, hi, obviously I’m Ella. I’m mortified that was our first introduction.”

“What do you mean? This is our first introduction. I’ve never seen you before,” Beckham says, winking at her.

My heart flutters at how wonderfully he’s making her feel at ease.

“Bless you,” Ella says, a look of gratitude washing over her face. “Um … you can come out in the living room now and meet my boyfriend, Jordan.”

I nod. Beckham rises, and I get up from my chair, and we follow Ella out to the living room, where an equally embarrassed Jordan appears before us, fully dressed and with no trace of sprinkles in his hair.

He clears his throat. “Sorry about that.”

“No problem,” Beckham says, extending his hand to Jordan. “Beckham. Nice to meet you.”

They shake hands. “Jordan.”

Somehow, we all manage to make small talk for a few minutes, and then I ask if Beckham would like to take a seat.

“No, I’ve got to get going,” he says. “I’ve got a travel day tomorrow.”

“I’ll walk you out,” I say.

Beckham says his goodbyes and I walk him out into the hallway, shutting the apartment door behind me.

“Thank you,” I say as we head toward the elevator. “You made that situation so much easier for Ella and Jordan with the way you handled it.”

“Not a problem. It did change my plans to ask for a hot chocolate, but whatevs.”

“Oh, shut up,” I say.

The elevator chimes, and the doors open. Beckham inclines his head. “My ride is here.”

“Right.”

He steps inside. “I’m sure Sofia will be in touch to coordinate our Thanksgiving schedule between yours and mine.”

My heart deflates. “Of course.”

He nods. “Right.”

Silence.

“Well, see you next Thursday,” he says.

“Have a good trip.”

The doors begin to close, but suddenly, Beckham punches a button and they open again.

“Georgie?”

My deflated heart suddenly springs back to life. “Yes?”

“If I’m your fake boyfriend, I’m going to be a good one. Can I call you when I’m on the road?”

Not only has my heart sprung back to life, but it’s pounding inside my chest.

“As your fake girlfriend, I would expect that,” I say, smiling at him.

He flashes me a brilliant smile in return, and my breath catches in my throat.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Good night.”

“Good night,” I say.

The doors close and Beckham is gone.

I stand in the hallway for a second, once again knowing I’m getting in over my head.

Then I turn and head back toward the apartment, and this time, my Swiftie soundtrack is playing a new song.

“King of My Heart.”

As I hear the lyrics roll through my head, I have no desire to change it.

I know this is dangerous. And I also know I don’t care.

I open the door to my apartment with one thing on my mind.

And that is about how excited I am to know Beckham will be calling me tomorrow.