The Summer Proposal by Vi Keeland by Vi Keeland

“Offend me? No. But it’s not your job to pay for things.”

“It doesn’t feel like a job. It makes me happy to do it. So can you just let me?”

I hesitated. “You know I can afford it, right? I might not have a big, fancy apartment like you, but I do well for myself.”

Max smiled. “I think it’s sexy as shit that you make a lot of money. But I still want to do it. Okay?”

How could I say no when he put it like that? “Fine.”

Once we’d checked in, a bellman showed us to our rooms, which were on the top floor. He unlocked the door between the suites and told us complimentary champagne and fruit would be sent up momentarily. Both rooms had terraces looking out over the city, and Max and I walked out on his to take in the view.

Someone knocked at the door to my suite.

“I’ll get it,” Max said. “It’s probably the champagne. It was part of a package that came with the room.”

“Okay.”

I stayed on the balcony, enjoying the last of the sunny day, while room service wheeled in a cart. When I heard the cork pop, I went back inside.

“That sound is like Pavlov and his bell for me.”

Max poured two glasses and handed me one before extending his in a toast. “To wearing matching shoes.”

It took a few seconds for me to remember our conversation earlier. I smiled as I did, and happily clinked to that. “I’m a lucky girl. Mine are really cute shoes, too.”

Max winked. “So are you ready for your big evening plans?”

“Big plans? I hope you’re referring to soaking in that ginormous tub I saw in the bathroom.”

“Nope. Better.”

“I’m not sure much could be better than that after a long day of walking around.”

Max looked at his watch. “Well, you’re going to find out in about fifteen minutes. So drink up.”

“Fifteen minutes? I need to take a shower before we go anywhere.”

“Not for this you don’t.”

“What are we doing?”

He kissed my forehead. “You’ll find out soon enough. I’m going to put on ESPN for a few minutes before we go—see what they’re saying about all the trades going on.”

“Okay.” He walked through our adjoining door, and I yelled after him. “Wait! What should I wear?”

“Just leave on what you’re wearing.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He wiggled his brows. “You won’t be needing your clothes for very long for what I have planned next, anyway.”



• • •



I hadn’t paid attention to the button Max had pushed, but when we stopped on the third floor and he put his hand at the small of my back to guide me, I shook my head. “This isn’t the lobby, Max.”

“I know.” He gave me a little nudge to keep walking. “We aren’t going to the lobby.”

“Where are we going?”

That answer became clear as we turned the corner from the elevator. The Four Seasons Spa.

“Oh my God, did you book us massages?”

“I did. And a little something extra for you.”

“What?”

He opened the door. “You’ll see.”

Inside, the pretty woman at the front desk did a double take and immediately turned pink when she got a load of the man next to me. She put her hand over her heart. “Mr. Yearwood, I’m sorry. We’re not supposed to make a big deal when celebrities come in. But I’m a huge hockey fan. I grew up in Minnesota.”

“Oh yeah? I went to high school in St. Paul, at Mounds Park Academy.”

“I know!” She squealed. “I’m from Bloomington. It’s only about twenty minutes away.”

I had to work at not rolling my eyes. I was pretty sure she hadn’t even noticed me standing here.

“We have two massage appointments.” Max motioned to me. “I wasn’t sure what kind she would want. Would you happen to have a list of the different types you offer so she can take a look?”

“Of course.” The woman pulled out an oversized menu and held it in my direction, still batting her eyelashes at Max.

“Also,” he said. “She’s getting another service after the massage. But she doesn’t know what it is. So, if you could keep that under wraps for now.”

“Oh, how fun! Of course.” She pointed over her shoulder. “Why don’t I let your therapists know you’re here, and that will give you a few minutes to make your massage choices.”

“Thank you.”

Little Miss Enamored disappeared down a hall, and Max and I took seats in the waiting area a few feet away.

“She was nice,” he said.

That time I couldn’t hold back my eye roll. “Would you like to bet that she asks you for an autograph when she gets back…on her breast?”

Max looked amused. “Do I detect a hint of jealousy, Ms. Delaney?”

“Pfft. No.”

His smile grew wider. “Don’t worry. She’s not my type.”

I stared down at the menu and mumbled, “I wasn’t worried.”

After a minute, Max asked, “So what are you thinking?”

“About what?”

He pointed to the salon services menu I’d been staring at. “Which massage are you going to get? I thought about booking us a couple’s massage, but I didn’t know how you’d feel about that. So I went with two private ones.”