Stealing the Bad Boy

by Emma St Clair

  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.

  This is Amy, he tried to tell himself. But the thought slid right off.

  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 dropped his duffle bag to run a hand through his hair. “Uh, I don’t know. I just need a room. With a bed.”

  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 had been 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. 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. Sy shook his head, following her up the stairs.

  “No elevator in this place?”

  She tsked. “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.

  “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 looked similar to Delia? They hadn’t resembled each other back then, but Amy had been so sick that it would have been hard to tell. She had seemed so much younger than him too, but she didn’t now.

  Being attracted to Amy wasn’t part of his plan. Not at all. He had been telling Elton just that morning how he wanted to ask Delia to prom. The thought now felt all kinds of wrong.

  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.” Amy rolled her eyes.

  Her words were right on the mark, but something in him wanted to deny them. And was he imagining it, or did Amy sound just the slightest bit jealous?

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

  Amy leaned back against the door and looked 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. “I can afford extra treatment. Does the diva treatment include a daily massage?”

  Amy narrowed her eyes. “Hm. That’s the royalty package. It’s even more money.”

  “So, massages are on the table?” Sy brightened. His muscles were always in need of a good massage. And the idea of Amy’s touch made his heart race.

  “We’ll see. Ready to see your room?”

  He nodded, but he couldn’t stop thinking of 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 from her to his stay.

  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.

  Sy looked around the room, anywhere but at the beautiful woman standing next to him.

  The walls were painted navy, with white trim on the crown molding brightening 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 smiled at Amy. “It’s perfect. Is that a balcony?” He pointed toward two double doors with blinds covering them.

  Smiling, Amy walked to the doors and curled her fingers at him. “Why don’t you 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 still mild, a little muggier here than it had been in San Antonio. But it felt really nice 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 in pots, 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. “It’s a wooden covering, but without a solid top. Sometimes people train vines to grow over them. Anyway, I want to hire Easton, but need to save up a little money. There are so many projects around here.”

  “Did Easton build the table?”

  Amy nodded. “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 her? Surely neither of them was dating her. His stomach dropped at the thought.

  Easton seemed way too pleased sending him over here. He hadn’t wanted Sy to reconnect with Delia—was Elton hoping to set him up with Amy?

  “Do you drink coffee?” Amy asked. “If so, this is a perfect spot fo
r 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? I’m taking requests.”

  “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.”

  Sy’s lips twitched. “Why do I feel like you’re about to burst into a rendition of ‘Be Our Guest’?”

  Amy laughed, and the sound seemed to shoot straight to Sy’s chest. He loved that sound.

  “Maybe later. Come on. Let me show you the bathroom.” Amy walked out into the hallway.

  “It’s not attached to the room?” Sy asked.

  Amy bit her lip before answering. “No, it’s in the hall. I know that’s not the most convenient thing. The only attached bathroom is in my room downstairs. Is that okay?”

  “It’s fine. I’m just surprised. Don’t worry about it.”

  Amy sighed. “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 crazy 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?”

  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 or six more people?”

  Amy hesitated. “If anyone else checks in. It doesn’t look that way and I have no reservations.”

  Sy glanced around the upstairs. The house didn’t feel small, until he imagined several other couples or families up here. What if some crazy fan ended up sharing the upstairs space or even a bathroom? He wasn’t the most famous face, but the press had really hounded him for the past few years, and the Perpetual Bachelor nickname had given him some notoriety.

  The idea of having strangers sharing this upstairs with him made Sy feel twitchy.

  “How about I make this easy. I’ll rent all the rooms.”

  Amy’s eyes were huge. “What? But that’s over six hundred dollars a night!”

  He chuckled. “I can cover it. And then some. Maybe if you’re lucky, I’ll even tip. I’d also like to hear more about the royalty package that comes with a massage.”

  “I was kidding about that. Mostly.” Amy cleared her throat. “I can’t let you do that, Sy. I’m happy to tell any other guests that I’m full, just as a favor to you, but I can’t make you pay for it.”

  Sy could see the determination in her face. But he had picked up on a few things she said that made him suspect she could use the money. Was the business struggling? It wasn’t a good sign that he was the only guest at Christmas.

  “Try and stop me, Ames. Seriously. I don’t like to throw money around, but it’s really not a big deal. I’m not letting you lose out on the money, but I want my space. I insist. Okay?”

  Amy looked like she might argue for a moment, then nodded. “Okay. Thank you.” Her voice was quiet, but her smile lit up the dim hallway. “I’ll meet you downstairs after you get settled in. Do you have other bags?”

  “No. I actually came kind of spur of the moment. I need to head out and grab a few things this afternoon.”

  If she thought that was odd, she didn’t say anything. When she reached the stairs, Amy turned and gave Sy another smile that had way more impact on him than it should have.

  “Thank you, Sy.”

  He waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it. Think of it as me being a diva.”

  “Right. Because you’re such a diva.”

  “Maybe I’ve grown into one over the past six years. Maybe a lot has changed.”

  “Maybe nothing has.” Her voice was almost a whisper.

  She blinked up at him with her long lashes, reminding Sy of exactly what had changed. Namely, the thoughts running through his head about her right now. Thoughts he wasn’t sure he felt comfortable having when they collided with his memories of her from back in the day.

  Sy put his hands in his pockets and cleared his throat. “So, how’s Delia?”

  He didn’t know why he brought up Delia, but the moment he did, Sy regretted it.

  A look he couldn’t quite read crossed Amy’s face before she laughed humorlessly. “Right. Delia. She’s the same Delia. Beautiful, amazing, all the things. You know. Went to L.A. a few years ago and is on step two or three of her plan for world domination.”

  “Sounds about right.” Strangely, the excitement Sy had felt thinking about her over the last day had faded. He didn’t really care about whether Delia was still gorgeous or doing well in California. He was much more interested in the sister standing right in front of him. The one who suddenly seemed a lot of degrees cooler than she’d been a few seconds ago.

  “She’d love to see you. I can give you her number.”

  The idea of calling Delia now did not tempt him in the slightest. “Oh, um …”

  “Better yet—we’re having dinner tonight with my mom. Why don’t you come? Unless you have plans?”

  “Sure. I mean, I don’t have any plans.”

  Nerves slammed into Sy with the force of a tornado. Feeling this off-balance with Amy was one thing. Having dinner with her and Delia today? And their mom? He knew that their parents were probably just as disappointed in him as the girls were.

  “What about your dad?”

  Amy’s gaze dropped to the floor. “We lost him a few years ago. Heart attack.”

  “Oh, Ames.” Before he’d even thought it through, Sy had crossed the space between them and wrapped her up in his arms. “I’m so sorry.”

  Sy felt her tremble and pulled her even closer. Her arms wrapped around his back, clutching at his shirt. She felt both familiar and unfamiliar somehow, but totally at home tucked against his body.

  “It’s okay.”

  “It doesn’t have to be. You don’t need to pretend with me, Ames.”

  At that, Amy sighed and seemed to melt into him. Sy’s head dipped to her hair, smelling that wildflower scent that had been distracting him since she first ran into him on the porch.

  A part of his brain kept rebelling, trying to remind him that this was the same Amy that had been nothing more than a little sister to him. A buddy. A friend.

  It’s wrong. You shouldn’t be wanting to pull her closer or thinking about how you don’t want to let her go. And you definitely shouldn’t be thinking about kissing her.

  But it didn’t feel wrong. Other than the fact that he was offering her comfort about losing her dad. That reality made Sy gently release his hold on her. Amy pulled back too, but when her hand fell away from him, Sy had to resist the urge to grab her again.

  But now that she had gotten away from him, Amy seemed intent on escape. She gave him a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes, and then darted down the first half of the staircase, almost at a run.

  Had he said or done the wrong thing? Overstepped some boundary with that hug?

  “We’ll go around five thirty. Make yourself at home! Delia will be so excited to see you!”

  And then she was out of sight, leaving Sy feeling completely unbalanced and more unsure of himself than he’d been in a long time.

  Chapter Five

  Amy

  A few hours later, Amy found herself fidgeting in the passenger seat of Sy’s enormous car
, waiting for him to climb into the driver’s seat. She tried not to ogle him as he jogged around the front, looking like some kind of advertisement for … oh anything. People would buy anything if Sy were selling, even in his casual Henley and jeans. He hopped inside, like his car wasn’t super-sized.

  When she had offered to drive, he looked at her little sedan and just laughed. He probably would have looked hilarious all folded up in her front seat. The thought made her lip twitch.

  “What’s so funny?” Sy asked, giving her a sideways glance.

  “I know you’re like a giant, but this is built for actual giants. I think my shirt ripped when I got inside.”

  “You mean when I hoisted you inside,” Sy said, smirking.

  Amy giggled a little, her cheeks warming. “Shut up. I could have climbed.”

  But she liked the feel of his hands on her hips when he surprised her by lifting her into the car. Somewhere, a feminist group was probably protesting this very thought. Amy did not even care. She was a strong, independent woman … who happened to like the thrill of Sy’s touch. Any way she could get it.

  “Eventually you would have gotten in. Meanwhile, I’m hungry. I couldn’t wait all night for you to make your way into my car, Short Stuff.”

  “Ugh! Not with the nickname! That should have died years ago.”

  “But it didn’t. And it still fits. If you really hate it, I can try to stick to Ames. You like that one better?”

  She did. Too much. It made her feel like they were still close, like she was special to Sy. She really didn’t even mind Short Stuff. Somehow it felt different now than it had when he used it back then.

  But she should probably say no to any nicknames or anything else that made her feel warm inside. Because Amy wasn’t the one Sy wanted. The sooner she could get her heart and body to understand that, the better. Step one would be to stop flirting. Or flirting back. Because he was flirting with her, wasn’t he?