Her Second Chance Dream Groom

by Emma St Clair

  Man, I’m just a big ball of sunshine today.

  “Amy? You okay?” Delia said.

  Amy glanced up from where her hands were twisting the cloth napkin. She realized they were all looking at her. Forcing a smile, she said, “Yep. Sorry. Did you ask something?”

  Her mother squeezed her hand. “Would you say the blessing?”

  “Oh, um. Sure.”

  Normally she didn’t care about praying in front of her mom and Delia. But Sy? Another thing people assumed about Amy because of her cancer was that she had some kind of high-level faith. Only Jessica knew how Amy felt bitter and angry inside. Everyone else just saw the girl with cancer who kept going to church through it all, as though that meant she didn’t question God or rage against him.

  Her cheeks began to burn as she watched Delia grab Sy’s hand and then her mother’s. They had always held hands for the blessing. Sy reached his big hand across the table toward Amy, palm up.

  Before it became an awkward thing that everyone noticed, Amy took his hand. It was really hard to focus on prayer when she felt his touch radiating up her arm, spreading warmth and making her skin feel tingly. Better keep this as short as possible so her whole body didn’t light up in flames or God didn’t smite her for thinking about a guy during prayer. Focus.

  “Let’s pray. Lord, thanks for this meal and for … old friends. Amen.”

  Before she’d even said the Amen, Amy had jerked her hand back from Sy. She could see him looking at her, but ignored it, serving herself a helping of the salad she’d made. Delia, of course, didn’t let him go right away. When Amy passed the salad to Sy, Delia still clutched his hand and fluttered her eyelashes at him. Did that move work? Apparently, it did.

  “Salad?” Amy shoved the bowl toward Sy. He pulled his hand away from Delia’s to take it. She didn’t meet his eyes, but her cheeks heated when his fingers brushed hers.

  “Thanks, Ames,” he said in that rich, deep voice that always seemed to shoot straight to the center of her chest.

  Did he have to use her nickname? Maybe she should have let him keep calling her Short Stuff. It could serve as a reminder of how he probably saw her, like a little sister of the woman he was dating. Maybe if she kept her brain there, it would keep her from having these stupid reactions to him.

  “So, how is life in San Antonio?” her mother asked, warmly. Amy had been pretending to set the already-set table when Sy had gone into the kitchen, so she didn’t hear his apology to her mom. But it must have gone fine, as she didn’t seem to hold any animosity.

  Amy watched, surprised to see him fidgeting with his fork. “Fine. I’ve got some good friends on the team and they’ve got my back. My house is fine. I like it.”

  Huh. Those answers sounded like covering, one thing Amy knew expertly well.

  “And the team? Are you guys having a good season?” Delia clearly didn’t keep up. They’d been on a massive losing streak, other than their most recent game.

  “Did you watch the last game?” Amy said. Sy shot her a grateful look. “Sy had his best performance in the last few seasons. Two sacks and the most tackles on the team. A career best.”

  Amy stopped, realizing that she had gone a few steps too far. Sy was grinning broadly. Delia rolled her eyes, actually looking annoyed. Or … threatened?

  Her mother chuckled. “You always were into football.”

  Delia’s lips curved into a smile. Amy knew that look, and it was trouble. “More like into S—”

  “Sports!” Amy interrupted Delia, who may not have been about to mention Amy’s crush on Sy. It sure sounded like it.

  Delia’s expression was hard to read, but Amy felt sure that her sister had been about to throw her under the bus. Amy wasn’t going to chance it. Her own thoughts were humiliating enough. She didn’t need Sy knowing about her mild—okay, medium to high—obsession with him.

  Normally, a remark like that would be unlike her older sister, who had always been overprotective of Amy. But a weird dynamic had settled between them with Sy here that Amy couldn’t quite figure out. It almost seemed like Delia felt threatened by Amy. But Amy wasn’t the one making out with him on the front porch.

  Even if she wanted to be.

  Amy narrowed her eyes at her big sister. “I’ve always been into sports. And stats. I like stats. Numbers. You know that.”

  “Your level of knowledge is a little unusual,” Sy said. He seemed amused by the whole thing. Maybe even impressed. “Even for our super fans.”

  “What can I say? I love stats.”

  “Where is your family now? I know they moved.” Her mother continued to keep the conversation moving, a fact for which Amy was grateful.

  “They’ve relocated to Arizona. It’s just as hot but not humid there. Whenever I visit I feel like a layer of my skin cracks from the dry heat. They’re on a cruise right now, but I have a game Christmas Eve.”

  That’s sad. Amy wondered how Sy really felt about his family planning a Christmas vacation without him. Was that just how things went with his career? Did he feel lonely? Where would it be if he weren’t here?

  It shouldn’t matter. Sy wasn’t hers.

  Their mother laughed as the conversation continued in safer waters. Amy shot Delia a glance. She was leaning closer to Sy as he talked about his family, looking at him with rapt attention and an adoring look that made Amy’s stomach turn. She just hoped her sister meant it this time.

  Delia had never been into Sy. Amy had watched Delia string him along for years. They called it friendship, but Delia was very aware of Sy’s feelings. She always seemed to keep a few guys around who liked her. Jessica always joked with Amy, calling it Delia’s entourage.

  Only after Sy got a full ride to college did Delia’s interest spark to life, as though she could see his NFL career in the distance and wanted to be a part of it. Amy loved football, but only knew stats because of Sy. She understood him and cared about him because he was kind and funny. Not because of how hard he could hit someone, the possibility of a pro career, or his stats—impressive as they were.

  A ridiculous girl’s dream.

  If Delia was going to date Sy now, it better be for the right reasons. Not because of his multimillion dollar contract or the fame that came with being a football player’s wife. Being with Sy could potentially help Delia get on the radar if she wanted to give acting another go. Nothing like a leg-up from dating someone famous. Is that why Delia was being so over-the-top?

  Amy felt the quick jab of shame at these thoughts. Delia wasn’t a terrible person, at least not worse than Amy or anyone else. But Amy didn’t want to see her use Sy as some kind of stepping stone.

  “Earth to Amy! Where is your head tonight?” Delia asked.

  “Sorry, just a lot on my mind, I guess.”

  “Like your dates this week?” Delia wiggled her eyebrows.

  Amy immediately tensed. She hadn’t wanted to go out with any of the guys from the app, but Delia had logged on and made plans with three guys this week. Three guys. Three dates.

  “You’re going on dates?” Her mother practically squealed, and Amy wanted to dive under the table and stay there for the rest of dinner.

  “It’s nothing,” Amy muttered.

  Delia made a dismissive sound and then nudged Sy, who sat frozen in his seat, his brown eyes fixed on Amy. “Amy has three dates with three different eligible bachelors this week. Maybe by Christmas, she’ll pick one.”

  “How romantic,” Her mother sighed. “I’m so happy for you. I know you’ve been so lonely. Even if you haven’t said anything. A mother always knows.”

  Had the two of them conspired together to completely humiliate her in front of Sy?

  “Where did you meet these guys?” Sy demanded. “Who are they?”

  Amy glared at him. Was he serious? He got back together with Delia after a ten-minute conversation and now wanted to be all up in her business?

  “What do you care?”

  Delia patted Sy’s arm. “They�
�re from a dating app. I helped Amy set up a profile since I’ve got a pretty good idea what guys are looking for.”

  Sy’s cheeks grew red. Amy glared at Delia.

  “You’re going out with strangers? Don’t you know how dangerous that is?” Sy asked.

  Delia looked between Sy and Amy, a wary look on her face. “That’s so sweet of you to be concerned of my little sister, Sy. Don’t worry about her. She’ll be fine.”

  Amy hopped up, grabbing everyone’s empty plates. “I’ll get these. Delia, why don’t you fill Sy in on your time in Hollywood. Maybe you’ve crossed paths with some of the same celebs.”

  Amy darted out of the dining room, taking solace in the mindless task of wiping dishes and loading the dishwasher. The sink was full of the pots and pans their mom used making the meal and Amy went slow, trying not to hear the sounds of conversation and occasional laughter from the other room. Whenever she heard the low rumble of Sy’s voice or even his laugh, it made her head ache. Amy turned on some music to drown out the sounds.

  Amy couldn’t keep her mind from Sy. The idea of him dating Delia made her feel ill. She would just have to get over that.

  “I didn’t take you for a country fan.” Sy’s low voice startled Amy and she dropped a plate in the sink. Thankfully, it didn’t break, but she shot him a glare. He held up his hands. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “It’s fine,” Amy said, trying to steady her pulse. But seeing the amusement in Sy’s warm brown eyes made it speed up. “And this isn’t country. It’s more Americana. Folk and bluegrass.”

  “There’s a difference?”

  Amy turned off the sink and leaned against it, facing him while she dried her hands on a dish towel. His face seemed curious, not critical. “They’re kind of cousins, I guess you could say. But I’m not really into country. Maybe old country and gospel. Not so much the new pop country. How about you? I seem to remember you as a Nickelback fan.”

  She couldn’t help the teasing tone that came into her voice. Teasing. Not flirting. There was a difference, right? Even if she was toeing right up to that line. She should really just keep her distance, keep putting up that wall. But it was so hard when all she wanted was to press closer to him.

  Sy cringed, then chuckled. “I guess I don’t have very sophisticated musical taste.”

  Amy widened her eyes and clutched imaginary pearls. “Are you saying you still like Nickleback? I need to get on Twitter and let them know they still have a fan!”

  His laughter was low and did funny things to her stomach. Then he opened his mouth and began to sing a few lines of a popular Nickelback song. Amy couldn’t remember the name of it, but she recognized the tune. It didn’t matter what band sang the song or what the words were. Amy could only see the softness in Sy’s gaze and the way the melody, sung in his rich, low voice, curled its way around her heart.

  If she hadn’t been before, she was a goner for him.

  “Sy! You can sing!” she said, when he finally stopped.

  He shrugged and looked down at his feet, but she could see the way his lip curled up slightly. “Nah. Not really.”

  “No, that was really—”

  “Was that you singing?” Delia practically squealed as she came into the kitchen, making her way right over to Sy to wrap a hand around his bicep.

  Amy’s stomach clenched with jealousy, but she noticed how Sy tried to pull away, even as Delia clung to him. His eyes were fixed on Amy and the relaxed look on his face had disappeared into something harder. Sy didn’t look happy, but more like he was searching for an escape route.

  The thought warmed her, but only a little. There was a strong code against liking someone your sister had already called dibs on. Even if you actually liked him. Even if you liked him first.

  But Amy felt a need to claim him, even while her sister kept trying to hold onto his arm. “Sy, didn’t you need to get back?” Amy said. “You had that thing.”

  “Right! Yes. Thanks so much for dinner, Mrs. Winters.”

  “You’re welcome any time, Sy. It’s so nice to see how you’ve grown up. It was a delight to have you. I know my daughters enjoyed seeing you as well.”

  Delia took that as a cue to hook her arm through Sy’s and rest her head on his arm. Amy’s stomach lurched and she was glad she’d only picked at her dinner. But she had the urge to grab Delia by the hair and have a real throw-down in the kitchen. Not her finest moment.

  Sy tensed and looked at Amy. “Shall we go?”

  “Yep. Thanks, mom.” Amy gave her mom a hug and grabbed her groceries from the fridge that she’d bought to make Sy breakfast. Not that impressing him with her cooking skills mattered now.

  “Where are you staying?” Delia asked.

  Amy shot Sy a panicked look. He had a matching one on his face. “I usually stay with the twins when I’m in town.”

  Biting her lip, Amy held back a smile. Sy hadn’t exactly lied, but hadn’t told the truth either.

  “Oh! I heard Pax is there too. He made a splashier entrance than you did.” Delia laughed.

  “And his career might suffer for it,” Amy said, annoyance coloring her voice.

  She had seen the pictures from the fight night and read a bunch of articles debating whether Paxton would be benched for the rest of his season. She didn’t ever know Paxton, outside of the fact that he had been on the high school team with Sy and now played for Dallas. But Amy did know the twins and couldn’t believe they were still running fight nights. They weren’t kids anymore. It was ridiculous.

  “Glad that’s not you,” Delia cooed at Sy. “We don’t want you risking your career for a fight, do we?”

  Amy made a frustrated sound without meaning to. “No. We don’t. I’ll be outside. See you later, Delia. Mom.” Amy stormed through the front hall, needing air and distance from her sister.

  Delia’s voice followed her out. “I want to get a play by play after your date tomorrow night!”

  The date. Amy slammed the front door behind her. That was the last thing she wanted to think about right now. But maybe it would be a nice distraction from the mess of emotions she was feeling right now about Sy. And her sister. She doubted it. No guy in the past had lived up to her memory of Sy, so there was no way some random guy from a dating app would measure up to the real thing, sleeping just upstairs with his big muscles and warm, brown eyes.

  Thankful that the weather wasn’t too cold, Amy leaned against the side of Sy’s car. He barreled out of the house a few minutes later. Delia hesitated in the doorway, looking like she had half a mind to chase after him. “See you tomorrow? Call me!”

  Sy didn’t answer, but jogged over to Amy’s door. He clicked the fob to unlock it and swung the door open wide. “Need another boost?”

  Amy caught Delia still watching from the porch. The last thing she needed was Sy’s big hands on any part of her body. Especially with her sister watching.

  “Nope. Just hold my groceries.” She shoved the bag into his arms and managed to hoist herself up. Sy gave back the bag, shooting her a look that she couldn’t read, then closed the door.

  When he got in the car, Delia moved to the front steps, waving and smiling her trademark smile. She’d never done pageants, but Amy had always mentally referred to that smile as her pageant look.

  Sy practically peeled out of the driveway but slowed the car to a normal pace as they got out of the neighborhood. They drove in silence for a few minutes. Then Sy glanced over at her. “You okay?”

  “Right as rain.” Amy closed her eyes. Stupid clichés. She wished she could purge them from her head, just like she wanted to purge her feelings for Sy.

  “You don’t really seem it.”

  Amy made a noncommittal noise, but when she didn’t say anything else, Sy ran a hand through his hair and continued. “Look, I want you to know, um, about Delia—”

  “I don’t want to talk about my sister.”

  “It’s just that—”

  “Sy, it’s fine,” she
snapped. “Just leave it. Looks like your apology went over well. I’m glad. Now you’ve done what you came to do.”

  “You know, I owe you an apology too.”

  “It’s fine.” That night had been disappointing beyond words. But it didn’t hold a candle to how she felt right now.

  “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry I disappointed you back then.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Sy.” Amy punched on the radio, needing something to cut this conversation. As the music blared on, though, she swore she heard him mutter, “And I’m sorry for disappointing you again now.”

  Amy could see Sy watching her when they pulled up to a red light, but she kept her gaze forward, tugging the grocery bag to her chest like it was a lifeline. They rode in silence the rest of the way back to the B&B.

  “Goodnight,” Amy called as she dashed ahead of Sy up the sidewalk. “Breakfast is at eight downstairs in the dining room. If you want it earlier, there’s a Whataburger up the road. Have at it.”

  She managed to toss the groceries in the kitchen and disappear into the downstairs master bedroom before she heard the creak of the front door opening. Fighting back tears, Amy pressed her head to the door, listening to Sy’s slow footfalls up the stairs.

  He had to know how she felt after that display. If anything, she probably made him think of her even more as a child with that temper tantrum. How could she face him over breakfast after being so ridiculous?

  “Tomorrow is a new day,” Amy whispered to herself. “Things will look brighter in the morning. I just need to sleep on it.” More than ever, the clichés crowding her mind felt empty. Just like her life.

  Chapter 7

  SEVEN

  After a night of tossing and turning, the smell of bacon frying was the best kind of wake-up call. Sy groaned, stretching his arms overhead as he checked the clock on the bedside table. Not quite eight. Sy couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept this late. Between morning practices and other football obligations, he’d gotten used to earlier mornings and his body clock normally woke him around six-thirty.