Her Second Chance Dream Groom

by Emma St Clair

  “So, what do I do?” She asked, her voice barely over a whisper.

  “I don’t know,” Jessica said. “I don’t know, but I do love you. Maybe you should start with small steps—just tell the truth. Like you just did. Maybe it’s time to be honest with what you really want and what you don’t.”

  Amy glared, knowing that Jessica meant the bed and breakfast. Holding up her hands, Jessica said, “Okay, okay. I’m done. How’s Delia? Still driving you crazy since she came back from L.A.?”

  “Yes. You know I love her. But it’s like since Dad died, she took the protective older sister thing to completely new levels. She set up an online dating profile for me on that site she uses without even telling me.”

  Jessica’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

  “Ugh. Don’t look so excited. I have a few dates set up this week and they’re going to be terrible.”

  “Stop thinking like that. The dates might be amazing! It’s got to be better than pining after your impossible crush.” Jessica gave her a pointed look.

  Amy took a long swallow of her ice water, hoping it would cool the heat in her face. Her long-time crush on Sy LaMarque was no secret. She’d carried that torch from high school on, when she was a lowly freshman, sick with cancer, and he was the handsome senior in love with her sister.

  Time should have killed her feelings, but if anything, Amy got more fanatical, only in other ways. She could give any one of his stats offhand and had collected a veritable treasure trove of fan memorabilia. Her walk-in closet was Sy Central, with posters and articles all taped up. Jessica liked to call it Stalker Central.

  “Shut up. I’m just a fan of football.”

  “Right. Football. Anyway, I think the dates are a good idea. You were just saying that you’re unhappy. What if one of these guys is—”

  “Don’t say it!”

  “—Mr. Right.”

  Amy groaned. “You sound just like Delia.”

  “Please don’t compare me to your sister!”

  Amy glared at Jessica. “Don’t talk bad about her. She’s family.” Amy knew that Delia tended to be selfish and self-centered. She and Jessica had never gotten along. But in spite of that, Delia was family. And Amy would always have her back.

  “Sorry,” Jessica said. “I didn’t mean to be so harsh.”

  “It’s fine. Anyway, I’m lucky Delia hasn’t moved into the bed and breakfast with me. Thankfully she thinks Mom needs her or she would be moving in with me in a heartbeat.”

  “That would be … terrible.”

  That was one thing they could agree on. “Yep. Speaking of, I’ve got to get back. The place has been locked for at least an hour and a half and with my luck, someone is probably waiting on the porch to get a room without a reservation.”

  When Jessica hugged her goodbye, she gave Amy an extra squeeze, forcing her firm belly into Amy’s waist. “Oh! I just felt a kick!”

  Jessica pulled back and laughed. “She’s feisty already. I think my organs are bruised.”

  “May I?” When Jessica nodded, Amy pressed her hand flat against Jessica’s dark shirt over the curve of her stomach. Within seconds, she felt a distinct nudge. “Oh, my goodness. She’s strong. I think she just gave me a high five. I can get through Christmas now.”

  “You can. But call me anytime. And don’t feel like you can’t complain to me. About anything.”

  “Same,” Amy said. “I know I said I’m jealous, but I really am happy for you. And you can absolutely call me to complain about Chris’ mom and sisters. I’m here for it. All week long.”

  When Amy got back to the bed and breakfast, she had been right: someone waited on the porch. The big man—giant would be a better description—waited on the porch with a rolling suitcase, looking at his phone. His shoulders held a stiffness that read like irritation.

  Great. The one day she tried to escape from lunch and this place just wouldn’t give her a break.

  “Dang it,” Amy said. Hopefully he hadn’t been there long.

  There was a black Range Rover parked in her usual spot in the driveway. It looked custom, with big wheels and shiny rims. “Big car to match a big dude,” she said out loud.

  Amy pulled up to the curb, hopping out. He’d need to move his fancy car, but for now she’d get him checked in.

  She glanced again at the Range Rover, checking for anyone waiting inside. With no other guests staying this week so far, the idea of being alone here at night with this giant man had her heart thumping as she jogged up the sidewalk. There was no way Delia would let her stay here alone with him.

  “Hello!” She called in a friendly voice that she hoped would disarm any of his annoyance. “Sorry to keep you waiting!”

  The man started to turn just as Amy reached the top step, the one with the wonky board she kept meaning to ask Easton to fix. Her boot caught on the board and she went stumbling right into the man. Big hands grasped her upper arms, keeping her from face-planting at his feet.

  “Ames?”

  As she looked up, the scent of warm spice sent her brain back in time. Six and a half years ago, the last time she saw this man in person. His voice was the same deep tenor and it wrapped itself around her heart now just as it did then. He looked bigger—a man, not a boy—but his honey-brown eyes had not changed. They were soft and warm, and Amy wanted to gaze into them forever.

  Sy LaMarque, strong-side linebacker for the San Antonio Texas Rebels, was standing on her porch. The guy who still had the power to make her heart take wings.

  Swallowing, Amy tried to find coherent words as she stared at her childhood crush, the impossible guy: her big sister’s friend and almost-boyfriend. She stood there, staring at Sy’s dark hair and olive skin. At the surprise on his face.

  His hands were still wrapped around her arms and Amy wanted to melt into him. She gently tugged herself out of his grasp instead, every cell in her body screaming in protest.

  It had been six and a half years, but her heart felt like it started beating in the same rhythm it used to, as though it had just been waiting for Sy to come back. But he never knew about her feelings. Not even Delia acknowledged it, then or now. It should have been glaringly obvious, but Delia had a way of overlooking a lot of things when it came to Amy.

  Sucking in a breath, Amy leaned one hand on her hip and smiled brightly up at the man who was too handsome for his own good. Or for anyone’s good. Definitely too handsome for her.

  “Well, hey there, Sy. Come here often?”

  Chapter 3

  THREE

  Sy was going to kill Elton. Or maybe thank him? The jury was still out on that one.

  As he followed Amy, who was still babbling on about the history of the house, Sy couldn’t decide where exactly he landed on that. But he knew that a few miles away, Elton was having a really great laugh. Maybe Easton too.

  He should have expected something like this. Elton loved drama. And while Sy wasn’t sure what the end-game was, El was up to something. It seemed funny that Elton had nothing good to say about Delia yet sent him to stay with her sister. What was he trying to do, set them up instead?

  Sy swallowed hard at the thought. Because the idea should have bothered him, but it didn’t. Instead, his pulse picked up.

  Amy waved a hand over the floors. “The hardwoods are original to the house. They need to be refinished, but that might have to wait until next year. Or sometime. Maybe never.” She laughed.

  “They’re nice,” Sy said, not even thinking about the floors a little bit. Instead, his focus was on Amy—this vibrant woman in front of him. He couldn’t get over the transformation.

  Her hair had grown back, and it swung around her shoulders when she laughed, which she still did often, it seemed. She hadn’t gotten any taller, which meant she was a good foot or more shorter than Sy. Her skin looked bright, a pink tint to her cheeks. Her blue eyes sparkled with life.

  Sy couldn’t help noticing the soft curves of her body in her jeans and blouse. She wasn’t a sick
young girl anymore, hardly more than skin and bones. Amy had grown up into a beautiful woman without a trace of cancer clinging to her. She was captivating.

  He could still remember the girl who had seemed so small, so fragile, but with the same eyes full of life and laughter. Back then, they’d been ringed with dark circles, her cheekbones standing out in her gaunt face. Her skin had been so pale that it was almost translucent, and her collarbones jutted out.

  Seeing how happy and healthy she looked made Sy’s chest feel warm with something like pride. And maybe a little of something else. Because when she smiled at him, it felt like something in his heart jolted sideways, leaving him unsteady.

  Amy stopped in the grand foyer of the house beside a tall chest of drawers that served as a reception desk. It was painted a bright turquoise and had a tablet on a little stand. On the wall beside it, keys hung from small hooks on the wall. Each key was painted a different color.

  Amy smiled. “Why don’t you tell me what kind of room you’re looking for?”

  Sy let go of the handle on his bag to run a hand through his hair. “Uh, I don’t know. I just need a room.”

  Rolling her eyes, Amy leaned an elbow on the dresser and rested her head on her hand. “We aren’t just a hotel with rooms, Sy. This is a bed and breakfast. We specialize in a custom experience.”

  “I’ve never stayed in a bed and breakfast. Help me out here. What are my options? Or maybe just suggest something.”

  Amy thought for a moment, studying Sy’s face with narrowed eyes like she was trying to read his thoughts. He hoped not, because right now, his thoughts were all about her blue eyes and the way her lips looked when they curved into a smile.

  “Got it!” She pulled a bright yellow key from the hooks on the wall. “Follow me.”

  “Do I need to pay?”

  “We’ll do that in a minute. I know you’re good for it.”

  She winked, and his stomach leaped. When she passed by him to reach the stairs, the scent of her drifted through the air. She smelled like wildflowers in summer. Sy resisted the urge to lean into her.

  Sy smiled, remembering the way her eyes would light up whenever he stopped by their house back in the day. He was practically starved for Delia’s attention, but he never had to worry about that with Amy. Unless it was a time she was bed-ridden from a rough bout of chemo, she would sneak out from behind a couch or chair and launch herself at him, climbing his body like a little monkey.

  “Hey, Short Stuff,” he would tease her as she giggled. Sy had always been quiet, maybe even a little on the gruff side. But not with Amy. She had a way of drawing out his humor and his happiness, even when he was pining after Delia.

  “Come on, slow poke!” Amy waited for him a few steps up, hand on the railing. “Are you still with me? You look like you just drifted away.”

  “I’m here.”

  “Well, come on then. For a professional athlete, you’re surprisingly slow.” She shot Sy a teasing grin and continued up the creaking stairs.

  He realized that he was frozen, watching her. Why was he so flustered? This was Amy. She was Delia’s younger sister. She had almost been like a little sister to him.

  The thoughts he was having now were anything but brotherly. It shocked him to realize this. Sy shook his head, following her up the stairs.

  “No elevator in this place?”

  She tsk-ed. “Like you need one.”

  “You aren’t even going to offer to carry my bag? What’s with the service around here?”

  Amy threw her head back and laughed. Sy couldn’t take his eyes off the long column of her neck. He swallowed hard. Being attracted to Amy wasn’t part of his plan to win back her sister. Not at all.

  “You’re about to get yourself sent up the street to the Comfort Inn, mister.”

  Sy fixed his eyes on the stairs in front of him so he wouldn’t be tempted to ogle Amy’s backside. This rush of attraction toward her threw him totally off-balance. Was it because she shared common features with Delia? They hadn’t looked much alike back then, but Amy had been so sick that it would have been hard to tell. Being so much younger, Sy wouldn’t have thought about her like that, even if Amy had been well. Dating a freshman when you were a senior felt wrong to him, though he knew guys on the team who did. Now, four years didn’t make a difference.

  But Sy wasn’t here to fall all over Amy. He was here to win Delia over. Being attracted to her little sister would be totally awkward. It was okay to appreciate the fact that Amy looked so good now, but his thoughts needed to end there.

  Amy stopped at a door down at the end of the hall. “If you don’t like this room, just tell me. Right now, you’re my only guest, so you get top-notch treatment.”

  “I don’t get that anyway?” He gave her his best smile and she grinned back.

  “Definitely not. I knew you way back when, before you were a big deal. Remember?”

  “How could I forget?”

  “While you’re here, you’re just regular old Sy, the guy who spent way too much time hanging around my house, making lovey-dovey eyes at my big sister.”

  Her words were right on the mark, but something in him wanted to deny them. And did she sound just the slightest bit jealous?

  An awkward pause stretched between them as Sy tried to think of what to say.

  Amy spun to face him, leaning her back against the door and looking up at him. “Do you need me to treat you like a diva? Because I can do that. There’s an extra charge per night, though.”

  Sy relaxed, thankful for the way her teasing diffused whatever weird tension he felt. “Most definitely. Does the diva treatment include a massage?”

  “That’s the royalty package and it’s even more money. Ready to see your room?”

  He nodded but was thinking only of having Amy’s hands digging into the perpetually tense muscles in his back and neck. Maybe she was teasing about that, but Sy would have paid any amount to add a massage to his stay. Especially one from Amy.

  No. He needed to stop that train of thought now.

  She turned the key in the lock and opened the door, gesturing for Sy to go in first. He had to brush past her to get through the doorway, again smelling that flowery scent. It was driving him wild. She was driving him wild.

  What was he thinking? He needed to get control of his thoughts. Sy looked around the room, anywhere but at the beautiful woman standing next to him.

  The walls were painted navy, with white trim adding a bright touch to the space. Given the light colors and feminine touches around the house, this room was surprisingly masculine. The comforter was also navy with navy and white pillowcases. A worn leather chair sat in the corner and the rug over the hardwoods was a deep gray.

  “Well?”

  Sy turned to smile at Amy. “It’s perfect. Is that a balcony?” He pointed toward two double doors across the room with blinds covering what appeared to be panes of glass.

  Smiling, Amy walked to the doors and curled her fingers at him. “Come and see.”

  Sy left his bag by the bed and followed her as she threw open the doors. They stepped out onto a small balcony. It was just big enough for two chairs and a small table between them. The temperature was mild this week, a tiny bit of chill in the air, but it felt really nice outside in the sun.

  Sy leaned his hands on the railing and looked out over the backyard. Below them was a patio with a long wooden table and chairs. Flowers bloomed around, making it look more like spring than December. There was a pile of lumber set off to the side, with a few tools stacked on top.

  “What’s the big project?”

  Amy sighed. “I want to build a pergola.” He must have had a blank look on his face because she gestured with her hands. “You know, like a covering over top. Not a solid roof, but a kind of wooden structure. I want to hire Easton but need to save up a little money. There are so many projects around here.”

  “Did he build that?” he asked, pointing down to the table.

  Amy nod
ded. “Yep. He’s so good, isn’t he? I love his work. The twins have been so helpful with this place.”

  Sy was surprised by the surge of jealousy within him at the way Amy’s voice softened when she talked about the twins. Did they spend a lot of time with Amy? Surely, she wasn’t dating one of the twins. His stomach dropped at the thought.

  “Do you drink coffee?” Amy asked. “If so, this is a perfect spot for coffee in the mornings.”

  “I do. Is there a Keurig in the room?”

  She leveled him with a serious gaze. “This is a bed and breakfast, Sy. Which means I make breakfast, including coffee. What do you like to eat, by the way?”

  “Oh, um, anything with lots of protein. Eggs, bacon, sausage—things like that. But you don’t have to—”

  She held up a hand to stop him. “I do, actually. Like I said, that’s my job. Bed and breakfast. Clearly, I’m going to have to educate you on how these places work. Let me show you the bathroom.”

  “It’s not attached to the room?”

  Amy’s face fell at his tone. She bit her lip before answering. “No, it’s in the hall. Is that a problem?”

  “No, I’m just surprised. It’s fine.”

  “It’s another thing on my long list of things to do. I think private bathrooms would help me get more guests. That’s the one thing I get complaints about. It’s just expensive.”

  She sounded so sad. Sy wished he could fix it for her, or at least take back his statement. “I don’t mind, Ames. Just show me where it is, okay?”

  She brightened at his words. The bathroom was just across the hall and had a claw-foot tub with a showerhead. Sy didn’t think he’d be able to fit into the tub, not that he was a big bath-taker. The showerhead might not be tall enough either. But he didn’t point that out to Amy. “It’s great.”

  “You’ll only share it with one other room, if we get any guests. There’s a second bathroom down the hall for the other two bedrooms. There are four total rooms up here.”

  “So, I could be sharing space up here with three other rooms?”