In the past, Amy might have said, none taken, without hardly giving it a thought. But she wasn’t the same girl who both hated her sister and longed for her approval. She would always love Delia, but honestly, Amy didn’t like her. They would never be close again. They’d never be friends.
Delia had offended her. And she probably knew it too. While Amy wouldn’t just smooth over Delia’s comments, she also didn’t want to fight.
“It’s too bad Grandma didn’t leave it to both of us. We could have sold the place and split the profits.”
Amy bristled. “I would never have wanted to sell. Which is why she didn’t leave it to us both. She left it to me.”
Even if I couldn’t keep it afloat more than a year.
The rising taxes and lack of guests made selling a real possibility. Taxes were due in January. Texas didn’t have state income taxes, but because of the Katy school district, the property taxes were sky-high and seemed to rise every year. Amy didn’t know if there was enough in the bank for the payment next month.
Even though she didn’t want the bed-and-breakfast to go belly-up, Amy hated running the place. No guests meant no money. But having rooms booked meant that she was chained to the historic home. She had to be around to make and serve breakfast, answer questions about the area, change the sheets, get fresh towels, and basically act like a glorified maid and concierge.
All for people who didn’t care a bit about the charm of the home itself or how hard Amy had worked after her grandmother died to update it, to honor her legacy, and make her proud. Amy might not have dreamed of running a bed-and-breakfast, but she didn’t want to fail. Not for her grandma, who had loved running the place, and not for Amy’s own pride. But in the next month, she’d probably end up having to face the facts: she couldn’t keep losing money. She would be forced to sell, and then have to move back home with her mom.
All things she could have told Delia, if they were closer, like the sisters in movies who fought, but somehow always had each other’s backs.
Too bad life wasn’t like the movies, where sisters could have tearful reunions and you wouldn’t get stuck with cancer twice before you turned twenty-four.
“You okay?” Delia asked. “You look like you swallowed a lemon.”
Amy sighed and tossed her napkin on the table. “I should probably get back to the B and B.”
Delia’s eyes went wide, and she grabbed Amy’s wrist. “Wait! I forgot to tell you. I did something for you.” She let go of Amy and waved her phone around. “I mean, it’s a free trial, but still. A gift from me to you.”
Amy narrowed her eyes. “A free trial of what?”
“This new dating app. Everyone in L.A. is trying it. I mean, for people who can’t find dates.”
It was hard work holding back all the eye rolling Amy wanted to do during this lunch. “I don’t want or need a dating app,” she said through gritted teeth.
“Don’t worry about it. You can always cancel before they charge you.”
“Charge me? How did they get my credit card number, Delia?”
For a moment, Delia looked guilty. But only a moment. “I, um, grabbed your credit card when you were driving me back from the airport. Sorry, not sorry. When this works, you’ll be thanking me!”
“It’s not going to work because I’m not going to use it.”
Delia pointed one of her perfectly polished red nails at Amy. “I knew you’d say that! Which is why I set you up with a profile already. Get this! You’ve got three dates coming up this week!”
Delia thrust her phone at Amy, who made herself glance down at the screen. She could see the profile pic Delia had chosen for her, which was one of her more recent Facebook photos. And then she could see photos of three guys. Before she got a good look, Delia pulled the phone away.
“Delia. Take me off the app. Tell those guys there is no way I’m going on dates with them this week.”
“They’ll be crushed! It’s Christmas week. And they’re really excited. Don’t let them down.” Delia stuck out her lower lip in a pout, then brightened when Amy didn’t argue. “Should we go shopping for something to wear? I’d love to be your personal stylist!”
Delia really did look excited, and it confused Amy. The last thing she wanted was to go on blind dates with guys from some swipe-whatever-direction app. Who knows what Delia even said about her in the profile. But Delia actually seemed to be thinking about Amy. For once. Even if she had zero clue how to actually do something Amy wanted.
“Why are you doing this?” Amy asked.
“Doing what?”
“Being nice to me.”
Delia pursed her lips. “You say that like I’m not always nice to you. Like it’s some kind of surprise that I care about you.”
Honestly, it kind of was a surprise. But saying that would only make things worse. “I’m sorry,” Amy said. “I guess I just thought … never mind.” Sighing, she offered Delia a smile. “So, how do I meet these guys?”
Delia beamed and clapped her hands. “Okay. Just in case you’d sabotage this, I’m not telling you the login for the app. I’ll handle all the communication and just text you the details, okay?”
Was it okay?
I’m probably dying anyway. What’s a few blind dates before death?
“Fine.”
“Yay!” Delia practically squealed, and a few heads turned.
“But I really do need to get back. I’ll be over for dinner tonight. Seven o’clock?”
“Yep. And your first date is tomorrow night. See ya!”
With a quick kiss pressed to Amy’s cheek, Delia was gone. Right as the waitress brought the check. Because it was too much to ask that they split the bill. Amy sighed.
On the way back to the bed-and-breakfast, she dialed her best friend, who had left a few days before to spend Christmas with her in-laws in Dallas. Jessica had firsthand knowledge of Delia and was always able to talk Amy down. Jess couldn’t stand her in-laws, so they often had mutual dish sessions just to get it out of their systems.
Amy listened to Jessica complain first about the posed Christmas pictures her mother-in-law insisted on.
“Not just pajamas, but pajamas with feet! Not like my massive pregnant belly is going to fit into any kind of pajamas. And my sister-in-law suggested I cut a hole in the stomach part and they could paint my belly. Paint it! Can you imagine? We’d end up on some website for terrible family photos, I just know it.”
The idea of adults dressing up in pajamas—especially with feet—and taking Christmas morning pictures was certainly overdone. And pregnant? That was pretty terrible.
But Amy would actually kill to have this problem. Because having in-laws would mean having a husband to go along with them. And despite the fact that she was already dreading the blind dates Delia had set up, Amy would trade almost anything to be able to have Jessica’s set of problems.
Amy couldn’t be anything but happy for Jessica’s marriage and her soon-to-arrive baby girl. Yet hearing about pajama-gate somehow made her irrationally jealous, then angry that she was jealous. Amy might never have in-laws to complain about. Not just because she hadn’t dated in forever, but because of whatever results waited for her at the doctor’s office.
She sniffed, and Jessica paused.
“Ames, are you … crying?”
“No.” The sniffing turned into sniffling, as tears rolled down Amy’s face. She pulled over a few blocks from the bed-and-breakfast, unable to see the road clearly.
“I’m sorry! Was it me? Am I going on too much? I am, aren’t I?” Jessica’s voice now sounded wobbly. Probably from pregnancy hormones, because Amy’s best friend almost never cried.
Amy could have told her the truth about finding a lump and getting tests run. And how she was currently avoiding her doctor’s calls. It was the perfect opening.
Instead, she said, “I’m probably going to lose the bed-and-breakfast. If I can’t pay my taxes, next month, I’ll be forced to sell.”
“Aw, baby. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize things were so bad. But you don’t like running the place, do you?”
“No. But I can’t lose it. I mean, what kind of person can’t keep a bed-and-breakfast open?”
“Lots of people, chica. You were amazing for even trying. I know how hard you work. I think it will be a relief.”
“It’s not just the B and B.” Hot tears burned her eyes and she didn’t even try to stop them. “I’m jealous of the fact that you have in-laws who have terrible photo ideas. I’m jealous of your swollen feet and that you have a guy as nice as Chris to rub them for you. And I hate that I’m jealous because I’m so happy for you. That’s what’s going on in my head. My thoughts are so ugly, and I hate them!”
“Hey.” Jessica’s voice turned soft. “Ames, come on now.”
Amy wiped her nose on a napkin she dug out of the cup holder. She didn’t need to look in the mirror to know that her face would be an unattractive shade of red. Some women looked pretty when they cried. Amy was not one of them.
“I know what you’re going to say. I’m a terrible person.”
“That’s not what I was going to say.”
“Then what? Give me your advice. It likely won’t help. I can’t sell the bed-and-breakfast, and no one wants to marry me, so I’m stuck in this cycle of unhappiness and complaining thoughts. Game over. But go ahead, lay it on me, Jess.”
Jessica’s voice took on that scolding tone that Amy bet she used in the classroom and would probably use with her kids. “Now you listen to me. I know you. This Debbie Downer stuff? It isn’t you. You are my best friend. You were before cancer. You still are. You’ll be my best friend until we die of old age, if you’ll have me.”
Amy laughed softly. “Is this a marriage proposal? Because I think that ship has sailed.”
“That. That right there is the Amy I know and love. You are a woman who had a ton of hard knocks, and you keep getting up. You make jokes, even at your own expense. You’re so selfless that you’ll listen to me whine thoughtlessly over here—sorry about that, by the way—without saying one negative thing. You’ve been through more than I ever will have to deal with. Stop being so hard on yourself.”
“That’s it?”
“Oh, was my pep talk not good enough for you?”
“I was expecting a bit more from you. You can do it! The night is darkest before the dawn! God helps those who help themselves! That kind of stuff.”
Jessica snorted. “That last one isn’t even biblical, you know. God is our strength when we are at our weakest—that’s biblical. Anyway, I’m not going to give you fake promises to make you feel better for two minutes and worse in an hour. I’m your friend. I love you and I care about you and I’m here. You’re in a hard place right now. But you have people that love you. And I bet there’s a right guy out there for you.”
Doubtful. Though one guy came to mind. The guy that Amy had somehow never stopped seeing as the right guy, even after six and a half years.
Nope. Not going to let him invade my thoughts when I’m already a mess.
“Get this: Delia signed me up for some dating app. She even set me up on dates. Three of them this week! With guys I don’t even know.”
“Good!”
“Good?! Whose best friend are you?”
“Yours. But if you aren’t going to get out there yourself, maybe this is a good idea. I mean, what if you meet someone great? Someone out there deserves all the awesome that is you, Ames.”
“Yeah, right. On a dating app?”
“You never know. The dates might be amazing! It’s got to be better than pining after your impossible crush.”
And there it was. Jessica went there.
Amy’s face flamed, even though Jessica wasn’t there to see it. Jess was the only one who ever brought up Amy’s long-time, impossible, stupid, childish crush on Sy LaMarque. She’d carried that torch from high school on, despite doing everything in her power to stop herself from thinking about him.
Okay, so maybe following his career obsessively wasn’t trying very hard. But Amy loved football, and she loved—no, liked—Sy, so how could she not keep up with him?
Time should have killed her feelings, but if anything, Amy got more fanatical. She could quote 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 taped up.
“Shut up. I’m just a fan of football.”
“We’ve been over this, Ames. You like football. And you’re obsessed with Sy. Which is why 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!”
“She actually was being kind of nice today. I mean, totally self-absorbed as always. But doing this dating app thing was, in her own way, kind of a nice thing.”
“So, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Go on the dates. Fall in love. Or at least kiss someone.”
Amy bit her lip. Jess was also the only one who knew that at twenty-one, she had never been kissed.
“I’m not going to waste my first kiss on some random guy from a dating app.”
“Ugh. Fine. But get over Sy already. Move on.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Anyway, I’ve got to go. I’ve been gone for over an hour. With my luck, someone is probably waiting on the porch to get a room without a reservation.”
After they said their goodbyes, Amy took a moment to look in the mirror on her visor. Her eyes and cheeks were red, but her waterproof mascara held up, so that was something. She pulled away from the curb and turned onto her street, feeling a lot lighter.
Until she saw the guy standing on the front porch of the bed-and-breakfast. “Dang it,” Amy said. Hopefully he hadn’t been there long.
The big man—giant would be a better description—waited on the porch with a small duffle bag, looking at his phone. His shoulders held a stiffness that read like irritation.
There was a black Range Rover parked in her usual spot in the driveway. It looked custom, with big wheels and shiny rims. Amy pulled up to the curb out front, hopping out. He’d need to move his fancy car, but for now she’d get him checked in. If he wasn’t too mad to stay now.
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 huge man had her heart thumping as she jogged up the sidewalk.
“Hello!” she called in a friendly voice that she hoped would disarm any of his annoyance. “I’m so 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 stumbled forward.
Big hands grasped her upper arms, keeping her from face-planting at the man’s feet. Instead, she practically face-planted into his firm chest.
“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 baritone and it wrapped itself around her heart now the same way it did back then.
He looked bigger—a man, not a boy—but his honey-brown eyes had not changed. They were soft and warm, and Amy could gaze into them forever.
Sy LaMarque is standing on my porch. The guy who still has the power to make my heart take wings.
Swallowing, Amy tried to find coherent words as she stared at her forever crush, the impossible guy. She stood there, staring at Sy’s brown hair and olive skin. At the surprise on his face.
His hands were still wrapped around her arms. Amy wanted to melt into him, but she gently tugged herself out of his grasp instead. Every cell in her body screamed in protest as she took a few steps back.
Despite
all the time that had passed, her heart felt like it started beating in the same rhythm it used to, as though it had been waiting all this time for Sy to come back.
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.
“Hey there, Sy. Come here often?”
Chapter Four
Sy
Sy was going to kill Elton. Or maybe thank him? The jury was still out on that one.
Right now, Sy was too distracted by Amy, who was still babbling on about the history of the house, as nervous as if she was on a first date. To his surprise, even thinking about Amy on a date made Sy want to punch things.
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 fact that she was here, right in front of him. Amy. Ames. His football-watching buddy. Part of it was just seeing her alive and grown up. The fear of losing her had always been hidden away in his chest like an ice-cold stone. He felt like he could breathe seeing her now, but he also felt like he should pinch himself.
Then there was the transformation. Her hair had grown back, swinging around her shoulders when she laughed, which she still did often. 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.
As she walked in front of him, Sy couldn’t help noticing the soft curves of her body in her jeans and blouse. She wasn’t a sick young girl anymore, her frame lost in baggy clothes.
Amy had grown up into a beautiful woman without a trace of cancer clinging to her. She was captivating.
Sy could still remember the girl who had seemed so small, so fragile, but with 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 the bones in her wrists and shoulders stood out.
Stealing the Bad Boy Page 4
