Her eyes widened. “Second part?”

“Just finish it.”

Sienna looked down, swirling the ice cream. She offered him a bite. “Help me.”

Beau grimaced. “Pineapple.”

“Come on,” Sienna said, taking another lick, letting her tongue linger a bit before she ran it over her lips. “How about a baby step?” She slid off the stool and stepped in front of him, tilting her head up.

“I already know what you taste like. And for the record, it’s way better than that.”

“You might be into fancy food, but there’s still Cheez Whiz in your cabinet.”

Beau laughed, and Sienna stood on her tiptoes, pressing her chest to his. Her ice-cream-covered lips were as close to Beau’s as she could get. She smiled coyly.

“Maybe it only needs an à la mode of Sienna.”

Beau’s tongue darted out of his mouth, swiping at his lips, and Sienna felt a drop of the Dole Whip drip down her chin. She tilted her head higher so it rolled down her neck.

“You could at least help a girl clean up,” she said, shivering as Beau’s fingers crept under her T-shirt, holding her waist.

Beau hummed in contemplation before lowering his head. “I wouldn’t want you to be all sticky,” he whispered, and Sienna nearly dropped the cup when he pressed his open mouth to the delicate skin of her neck, his tongue circling to wipe away the cold cream. The heat of his breath, in contrast with the ice cream, made Sienna’s legs shake.

“Maybe,” he said, letting his mouth follow the trail of the mess, “coming off you, pineapple isn’t so bad.” He sighed against her. “Actually, an à la mode of Sienna every day would solve a lot of my problems.”

“See?” she croaked, leaning farther back as Beau continued to trail his tongue up and down, and she wished the mess was bigger and all over her body. A small moan floated out of her mouth when his hands slid to her back, one dancing up her spine, one gripping her ass. “Told you so.”

“What do you think? Is it as good as you remember?” Beau asked when he peppered light kisses along her jaw, pressing her tightly to his middle.

“Better,” Sienna breathed out. “You make it better.”You make everything better,she thought, fighting back the emotion of the realization.

The small, sleepy town of Brookwood? Better, more exciting with Beau. Dinner?Alwaysbetter and seemingly more delicious with Beau—whether it was peanut butter sandwiches or truffled fettuccini, in a five-star restaurant, his parents’ kitchen, or in his apartment. Dole Whip with Beau?Definitely better. Better than Disney World.

The hand holding the plastic cup dropped to her side when he kissed her chin. When his lips met hers, Sienna opened her mouth wider, eager for more of Beau’s taste that simply was unmatched.

“No, you’re not ruining this plan,” Beau said, leaning his forehead to hers. “This”—he ran his hands up and down her body—“comes later.” He left a small, light kiss at the corner of Sienna’s mouth. “There’s still part two of your present.”

When Beau stepped back, Sienna fell forward into the now empty space in front of her. He pushed off the counter and went back toward the bedroom. She looked at the cup in her hand with defeat.

“Here,” Beau said. “Put these on.”

“I thought you already knocked me-in-your-clothes off your wish list,” Sienna said, taking the pile.

He pulled a sweatshirt over his head and gave her ass a playful slap. “That’s ongoing. But I thought you might get cold. Come on, I’ll give you slippers. And grab that blanket on the chair.”

Five minutes later, donned in too big shoes and sweats, Sienna rode quietly up the elevator with Beau to the roof.

“This isn’t only for you, by the way,” he said as they stepped off, and he led her down the hall.

Sienna shuffled her feet.I told him I don’t do this anymore. Sienna didn’t want to harp on the past, but some things were too difficult to revisit. She thought about the leather book at home on her nightstand. Beau might have bought all the stars in the sky for her, but that didn’t mean she might keep them forever.But he’s trying. He’s here and he’s trying, Sienna thought and decided that if Beau brought her to the roof to make a wish, she could at least try to, or fake it at best.

“What do you mean not just for me?” Sienna asked.

Beau pushed open a door, and a chill struck her.

“The Dole Whip was for you.”

He pulled her by her hand onto the roof and she clutched the blanket she had taken from the apartment.