Stealing the Bad Boy

by Emma St Clair

  It was the perfect song for the perfect night and the perfect woman. Not that he had any illusions that Amy was without flaws. But she was perfect for him.

  If it hadn’t been clear to him earlier in the week, spending the last day with Amy had only solidified it in his mind. After the game, he had driven her back to his house. Just having Amy there made the space feel less empty and more like a home. Was it bad that he was already thinking about her moving in?

  He had talked with Chad about it, expecting the therapist to tell him that he was being reckless, and that he should slow down. Instead, Chad had told him that there was no right speed for love.

  “If we were talking about some woman you met in a bar this week, I might say something different,” Chad had said. “Though sometimes those stories work out too. But you’ve known Amy for years. You already have a foundation of friendship. A history. You’ve spent so much time establishing what you don’t want in a woman. If you’re thinking of a future with Amy already? I’m not going to tell you to question that.”

  It was as hard knowing that Amy was just down the hall in the guest room as it had been having her downstairs in the bed-and-breakfast. But the physical side of their relationship was one thing Sy wouldn’t rush. Even if it took a lot of restraint and silent prayers.

  Though Sy had planned to take her out, he woke to find that Amy had made herself at home in his kitchen, serving up scrambled eggs and breakfast sausage. He’d had to stop in the doorway, taking a moment just to watch her move through his kitchen with her rumpled blonde hair and sleepy blue eyes. It hit him in that moment how he wanted to see her face every morning.

  And he loved getting to spoil her. Delia hadn’t been able to find a dress to pack, so Sy had made some calls and found a stylist. She had come to the house a few hours before they needed to leave for the charity prom with a rack of dresses and shoes. Though Amy protested the cost and the whole gesture, she had quickly given in when she fell in love with a turquoise evening gown that made her eyes look like a tropical sea.

  Sy slid his palm up the silky material at her back as the song ended. He pulled back slightly and met Amy’s eyes. “I’m so glad you’re here with me, Short Stuff.”

  Amy swatted at his arm. “I’m not going to get away from that nickname, am I?”

  He shook his head. “Nope. Not unless you have a sudden growth spurt.”

  She made an irritated noise, but she was smiling. Sy bent forward and placed a quick kiss on her forehead, then the tip of her nose. He was about to move down to her lips when the team owner spoke up over the sound system.

  “May I have your attention, please?”

  “To be continued,” Sy murmured to Amy. She flashed him a brilliant smile.

  The team owner and his wife stood behind the microphone along with a man that Sy guessed to be the representative from the cancer foundation. “Good evening! We wanted to thank you for what we hope to be the first of many Mustang proms.”

  Applause broke out in the room. A week ago, Sy would have groaned. But with Amy beside him, tucked under his arm, he didn’t mind this news at all.

  “Tonight, with your generous donations, we have raised over sixty-seven thousand dollars for the San Antonio’s Angels Cancer Foundation. This money will go towards research, funding, and treatment for children with cancer.”

  Sy squeezed Amy’s shoulder and smiled down at her. But her face was pale and her expression unreadable. Her eyes looked too bright and—were those tears?

  “Ames?”

  She glanced up at him, her eyes wide and almost panicked. A single tear escaped, tracking its way down her cheek. And then she had ducked underneath his arm, moving almost at a run out the big glass doors to the balcony. Sy followed quickly behind her, but it was harder for him to navigate through the crowd of people because of his size.

  When he reached the doors and walked outside, he saw Amy near the end of the balcony, her hands braced on the railing and her head down. He jogged over, but when he reached her, he was suddenly unsure of himself. What he wanted was to wrap her up in his arms, to soothe away whatever had caused her to react that way.

  Maybe memories of what she’d been through as a teenager? He really should have considered that and warned her before the event. The name of the foundation was prominently displayed, but Sy had hardly had eyes for anything but Amy. She might not have noticed.

  “Ames?” Sy couldn’t just stand there, watching her shoulders shake. He stood right behind her, then placed his hands gently on her back. Sliding his palms up and down her bare arms, he leaned closer until his body eclipsed hers, his chest to her back. “What’s wrong? Talk to me. Please? I want to help.”

  She tensed and Sy placed his hands over hers on the railing, gently prying her fingers loose one by one until he could link their fingers together. She sniffed, then straightened up a little until she was fully standing, leaning her full weight into him.

  “I need to talk to you about something.”

  “I’m here.”

  With a heavy sigh, Amy tugged her fingers free and turned to face him, lightly pressing him back with a palm to his chest. Tears pooled in her eyes and her lips trembled. Sy tried to push down the panic suddenly rising in his chest. This was more than Amy being reminded of her past.

  Sy pulled her hand from his chest to his lips, pressing kisses to her fingertips. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. I want to know everything. Big, small. Important, silly. Everything.”

  “You don’t understand,” she said, her voice shaky and desperate.

  The fear Sy had been fighting disappeared in a sudden surge of protectiveness and determination. “No, Ames. You need to understand something. There is not one thing you could tell me, now or later, that would change this: I want to be with you. Only you. For life. Maybe it’s too soon for that talk. I don’t want to scare you off. But that’s my end game, Ames. You and me. Forever. That isn’t changing.”

  Her eyes searched his face, and her lips lifted in a small smile. “You mean that? Forever?”

  “I do. So, hit me. I’m not going anywhere.”

  Without warning, Amy threw herself at him, her arms around his neck and her full weight there. Sy caught her, but hadn’t been expecting it and stumbled back a step before his arms fully supported her.

  “Whoa,” he said with a chuckle. “You’re not supposed to tackle me without gear on.”

  She only squeezed him harder. For a few moments, they stood like that, her cheek pressed against the top of his chest, his arms holding her up.

  And then, almost so quietly he didn’t hear her, Amy whispered, “It’s back. My cancer.”

  Understanding came over Sy slowly, like shadows on the ground as a cloud moves across the sun. Cancer. Amy has cancer.

  The first identifiable emotion Sy identified was rage. At who or what, he didn’t know. But he wanted to roar with it, to shout and shake fists at the sky. Amy had already been through this. For years. He had seen the way it wrecked her, and how she kept going in spite of it.

  It wasn’t fair. Simply not fair.

  “Ames,” he managed to say, his voice gravelly and rough.

  “It’s breast cancer this time. I found out this week and start treatment in a few days.”

  His jaw clenched. “I can’t—I don’t—”

  “You don’t need to do anything. Or say anything.”

  With a sigh, Amy pulled back, so they could look at one another. Gently, Sy let her slide down until her feet touched the ground again, but he didn’t take his arms away from where they rested on her hips.

  “That’s the thing. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do or say anything. You didn’t expect this, and if I’d known, I never would have—” She choked on a sob then, her words seeming to lodge in her throat.

  “That’s why you wanted me to leave. It wasn’t just Delia.”

  Amy nodded. He ached, literally ached, for her. But he wasn’t about to let her push him away like this. Sy moved h
is hands to her cheeks, brushing her tears away with his thumbs.

  “You can’t get rid of me that easy,” he said, giving her a smile. “You heard what I said a minute ago? Forever, Ames. I’ll say all the vows right now and mean them—for better or worse, sickness and health. I want you. If I could take this away and suffer it myself, I would. Since I can’t, I’ll fight alongside you. We’re in this together. There are no deal breakers for me, Ames. I want you. If you’ll have me, I’m yours. What do you say, Short Stuff?”

  Sy watched emotion flicker over Amy’s expression. She bit her lip, then put her hands up, covering his where they still rested on her cheeks.

  “I don’t want you to feel like you have to stay.”

  Sy groaned, rocking back slightly on his heels. “You are not an obligation, Ames. You are a gift. Don’t fight me on this. I’m bigger and stronger and a whole lot of stubborn. You will not win.”

  He knew that he had won when she giggled. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say yes, Ames. Be mine. Let me be there with you. Every step.”

  “Yes.”

  Amy slid her hands up to the back of Sy’s neck, letting her fingers rise up into his thick, dark hair.

  “I know we’ve only been on like two dates, and I sort of just recited my wedding vows, but is it too much if I kiss you?” Sy asked.

  “It would be too much if you didn’t.”

  And at her words, Sy let his lips descend on hers, feeling relief course through him where their mouths met. He tried to push every emotion he felt into the kiss. His love, his commitment, his desire for her and only her. Even his fear leaked through in the desperate way that he couldn’t get enough.

  When he pulled back just enough to leave a breath between them, he whispered against her mouth. “I love you, Ames. I’m here. For good. Whatever it takes.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Amy

  Amy stared out into the rain through her bathroom window, trying to shove away her disappointment. Was it ironic or just bad luck to have rain on your wedding day?

  Either way, even a small wedding planned for outdoors was going to be an issue.

  Delia swept into the bathroom, where Amy sat in front of the vanity in just a white lacy bra and panties. Her sister frowned. “You aren’t ready? Wait—are you crying? No. Nope. Not happening. No tears. Turn around. I’ll finish your makeup and then Mom and I will help you into your dress. Then you are getting married and it’s going to be amazing.”

  Amy gestured to the window. “How are we supposed to do this? There is literally not enough space to get married inside the house.”

  Delia rolled her eyes, even as she gestured for Amy to spin around in the chair. She held up eyeliner before Amy could even think about arguing. “Forget the weather. Weddings are magical. Even if we’re getting married in the front hall with everyone else sitting on the stairs. Hold still.”

  Amy wanted to argue but was afraid Delia might stick the eyeliner in her eye if she did.

  “Plus, this is about you and Sy. I know it’s disappointing, but however it happens, you are going to marry the man of your dreams—literal and figurative dreams, may I remind you. I’ve got Elton and Easton moving furniture. Trust me, if the rain doesn’t let up, I’ve got a plan. Nothing will derail your big day.”

  Amy believed her. Delia was a force of nature. In the last month since Christmas, Amy had started seeing more and more ways that her sister’s bossy nature wasn’t all bad. Planning a wedding in just a few weeks? No problem.

  And Delia was right—it wasn’t about the location or the perfect event. It was about her groom. Amy’s heart fluttered at the thought of Sy, getting ready in one of the upstairs rooms. Probably the one he’d stayed in right before Christmas.

  “Stop smiling. While I’m glad to see your mood improving, watch out or I’ll get mascara all over your face.”

  “It’s my wedding day. I can’t cry; I can’t smile. What can I do?”

  Delia stepped back. “I’m done. Now you can smile or cry. I used waterproof mascara. Now, we’ve got ten minutes to get you in your dress. Mom’s waiting.”

  Amy turned to look at her makeup. She’d been a little afraid that Delia might go overboard. But the look was much more natural than what Delia wore most days.

  “Thank you,” Amy said, giving Delia’s hand a squeeze. “For everything.”

  Delia wrapped an arm around her. “If anyone deserves this, it’s you. Plus, I’ve got a lot of things to make up for.”

  “I’ve told you. All that’s forgiven. You don’t need to—”

  “Hush, woman. Let’s get you hitched!”

  Amy’s mother must have also worn waterproof mascara, because her makeup stayed in place even after she cried the whole time she helped button Amy into her wedding dress. Amy managed to keep it together, but only because she could hardly wait to see Sy. To say her vows. And to take their tiny honeymoon before he had to go back to San Antonio, and she went in for her next round of treatment.

  It wasn’t ideal. Actually, the idea of getting married a month after your first date was completely ridiculous to most people. But considering her circumstances and his unique work situation, now was the perfect time. Amy hadn’t lost a lot of weight or her hair—yet. She wanted to walk down the aisle feeling good. She wanted a honeymoon where she and Sy could explore each other’s bodies for the first time while she still had her breasts.

  The double mastectomy would be after her first round of treatment. She still hadn’t decided about the reconstruction, but she was trying to think about one thing at a time. Today, that was the man she was about to marry.

  Her mother kissed Amy’s hair. “You look so beautiful, Amy. I’m so happy for you.”

  Amy stood before the full-length mirror, flanked by her mother on one side and Delia on the other. She wrapped an arm around each of their waists.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I couldn’t have done it without you. And I’m not just saying that.”

  “I know,” Delia said, and Amy had to laugh.

  Suddenly their mother gasped. Amy followed her gaze to the window where sunlight streamed through the backyard, lighting up the tiny droplets of rain that covered everything. It looked like everything had been decked out with tiny diamonds.

  Amy covered her mouth. “The sun!”

  “You know what they say about Texas weather,” Delia said. “You just wait five minutes. Which means we may only have five minutes before it’s back. You want to risk it, right? The perfect backyard wedding?”

  Amy nodded. “Yes. Let’s do it.”

  “Okay. Be ready!” Delia swept out of the room, calling for the twins, with their mother following behind.

  Amy was alone, left with the excitement and nerves surging through her. She wanted to get out there and say yes now. Sun, rain—it didn’t really matter. There was a knock at the bedroom door.

  “Short Stuff?”

  Amy’s face broke into a grin at the sound of Sy’s voice. She walked to the door but didn’t open it. Instead, she pressed her palms to it, then rested her cheek against the wood.

  “You know I’m not letting you in. I want you to see me for the first time as I come down the aisle.”

  “I know. But I had to hear your voice one more time. And to remind you one last time as your fiancé that I love you. I love you, Ames.”

  “I love you too, Sy.”

  She could imagine his handsome face smiling on the other side of the door. “Your sister also told me to tell you that we’re starting in two minutes. Is she ever going to stop being so bossy?”

  “Nope. Maybe we should have written that into our vow—for better or worse, with difficult sisters-in-law.”

  He chuckled. “I’ll see you in a few minutes. I can’t wait, love.”

  “Me neither.”

  Amy heard his footsteps move away, and then heels clicked across the wood floors. They still needed to be refinished, but Sy had promised that after they got throu
gh her first rounds of treatment, he would get Elton and Easton to help with her to-do list. He had already covered the property taxes for her, calling it just one of his wedding gifts. They probably wouldn’t open it back up as a bed-and-breakfast, but Amy wasn’t ready to let go of it yet. For now, her time would be split between San Antonio as Sy finished his season and Houston, where Sy had rented a loft for them near the medical center.

  The door swung open and Delia stood there grinning. “It’s time.” She gave Amy a quick hug and then practically dragged her to the side door.

  Easton waited next to the back gate, ready to walk her down the aisle. Music filtered out through speakers Delia had installed outside. With a last smile and a wish for good luck, Delia handed Amy her bouquet and started her procession. Other than her mother and sister, Jessica had come, the twins, Pax, Cilla, Adele, and a few of Sy’s teammates. Sy’s parents and his sisters had flown in too.

  It was tiny and absolutely perfect.

  Easton held out his arm, and Amy linked hers through it. “You look beautiful,” he said. “I never would have expected we’d be doing this when Sy showed up before Christmas.”

  “You and me both.” Amy grinned. “But it feels so perfect, doesn’t it?”

  “It does.” The music changed. “I think that’s our cue,” Easton said.

  Together, they stepped through the gate and began the walk through the grass to the pergola, where Sy stood, a huge smile on his face and tears in his eyes.

  There were details Amy only half registered but didn’t care about. Like how nice the fresh flowers looked that Delia had hung on the pergola. Or the fact that the train of her dress was going to be wet from dragging in the grass. With the sun still lighting up all the water droplets, it truly looked enchanted.

  Amy’s attention was fixed on Sy. As she and Easton moved forward, she studied the ruggedly handsome face that she knew first as a boy, then from a distance through the television screen or in the stands of his games, and now as the person who meant the most in the world to her.

  They said their vows and exchanged their rings, all while Amy felt like she was walking and talking in a dream. It was like she and Sy were the only people in the world, even in the middle of this small group of their loved ones.