Sy wasn’t about to tell Amy that he didn’t do dishes at home either. He had a daily housekeeper who took care of the dishes, laundry, and cleaning. His life wasn’t so strange for a pro football player, but felt really weird now that he was hanging out with normal people. Amy launched into telling him about running the bed and breakfast while he used a sponge and soapy water to rinse off their dishes and the pots and pans she’d used for cooking. It was surprisingly therapeutic, or maybe it was the lilting sound of her voice as she told him how hard it was keeping the place running.
“If you could do anything in the world, what would you do?”
The question sent her into silence. Sy had finished and turned off the water, spinning to face Amy. She sipped her coffee, thinking.
“Honestly? I don’t know. I spent so many years just thinking of living, of surviving, that I didn’t really let myself dream.” She shrugged. “I loved my grandma and she loved this place, so here I am.”
“But you don’t love it.”
“No.” The word shot from her mouth and she slapped a hand over it. “Wow. I guess I don’t admit that often. Anyway. This is the life I have for now. I’m not going to figure out my dreams over breakfast. How about you? Are you living your dream life in San Antonio, on and off the field?”
Sy refilled his coffee and sat down next to Amy again before he could manage an answer. “I am. It’s what I always wanted and now I’m doing it. A dream-come-true.”
She studied him and Sy had to look away from the intensity of her gaze. “But? Something’s off. I can hear it in your voice.”
Sy didn’t know how to put words to what was off about his life. He had told the truth: he was living the life he’d always dreamed about. The only thing missing was someone else to share it with. For years, he had denied himself that, earning that stupid nickname from the press. Partially because of Delia, and maybe also a little because his parents had been married, but his house had still felt empty. It’s why Sy spent so much time at the Winters’ house or with the twins. Marriage didn’t seem like the answer, or really even something Sy wanted.
But now, after barely a day with Amy, Sy was re-thinking his lonely life. He could see her fitting right into his life. That should have scared him, but it didn’t. It was too soon, though, right? A person couldn’t decide something like that in twenty-four hours.
Sy suddenly remembered something Amy had said a few minutes ago. He spun on the stool to face her. “Wait! You said your dad always wanted to do the whole scaring-off-your-suitors thing. He never got to do it?”
Her mouth opened and closed a few times before she looked down at her lap, smiling softly. “I’ve never dated anyone. Part of that whole being sick and not having dreams thing.”
“Not even after you went into remission?”
She shook her head slowly. “Nope. It took me a while to stop looking so sick. And I was pretty shy. I mean, I spent years being homeschooled, so when I went back, I didn’t know anyone and was kind of awkward. Talking to guys was hard for me.”
“You never had a hard time talking to me.”
Amy grinned up at him, making his heart soar. “No, I didn’t.”
“Still don’t. I’ll take that as a compliment. Guess I’m pretty special.”
“Or it just makes you one of the girls.” Amy giggled as Sy poked her in the side, just below her ribs. She twisted away from him. “Hey, just calling it like I see it.”
“Yeah, sure.” Sy loved the way she went from being serious and talking about her life to teasing him and being playful. Everything about Amy set him at ease. He felt peaceful. Like being together was simply right.
What didn’t feel right was letting her go on her first date ever with some dude she’d met from a dating app.
Sy stood, holding out a hand to her. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?” Amy looked at him warily.
“Look, I’m not about to let you go on your first date tonight with some loser you’ve never laid eyes on. How do you know the picture matches the person? What if he’s some grandpa who just got released from prison or something?”
Amy snorted and crossed her arms over her chest, still not getting up. “Yeah, right. A grandpa convict.”
“Hey, it happens. Come on. Let me show you what a real date is like. I’ll give you something to compare it to. You need standards. Plus, I owe you for ditching you six years ago. You never got your prom dinner. Time to collect. Let’s go, Short Stuff.”
Amy shook her head slowly, narrowing her eyes. “I know you’re a big-shot football player and could have your pick of the ladies, but you’re forgetting something.”
Sy didn’t want his pick of the ladies. He was looking right at the one he wanted. But every moment that passed and she didn’t get up to come with him made him wonder if she felt the same way. “What did I forget?”
“You have to ask a woman out first. You can’t just assume.”
Sy dropped his hand. “Oh. You’re right. Sorry about that.” He cleared his throat and got down on one knee, looking up at her as she fell into a fit of giggles. “Amy Winters, will you go on a date with me? Starting now and ending sometime before your second date, which will completely pale in comparison. I plan to set the bar impossibly high. What do you say?”
Amy out and out laughed, then ruffled his hair. “Yes, Sy LaMarque. I’ll go on a very first date with you. If you get off your knee. Jeez, how long has it been since you asked someone on a date? Getting on your knee is for marriage proposals.”
“Right. I forgot.” He grinned as he got back to his feet. He knew that he was getting way ahead of himself, but he could just consider that practice for later. These thoughts were so unlike him, but happiness bubbled up in his chest in a way it never had.
“Sy?” Her soft voice made everything in him still. The vulnerability in her face made him want to draw her close. “Are you sure? I mean …” Her lips twisted, and she dropped her gaze.
Sy didn’t know what insecurities she might be dealing with, but he hated to see that doubtful look in her eyes. He put a gentle hand on her chin, tipping her face up until she met his eyes. He flashed her a brilliant smile, the kind not many people got to see.
“There’s nothing I’d rather do than take you on your first official date.”
Her eyes softened, and it took all his self-control not to plant a kiss on her lips. Slow, he reminded himself.
Stepping back, Sy clapped his hands. “You have thirty minutes to get ready. Starting … NOW!”
Laughing, Amy raced around the kitchen island and disappeared into her room. Sy took the steps upstairs two at a time, and when he caught sight of himself in the mirror at the top of the landing, he almost didn’t recognize the look of joy on his face.
Chapter 8
EIGHT
From the time Sy asked her on a date until the moment she finished getting ready, Amy couldn’t steady her heart. She was so excited that she felt out of breath and had to sit down on the bed for a moment to compose herself. Dressed in fitted jeans, boots, and a pretty sapphire-colored sweater, she wished Sy had told her what they were doing. Hopefully this outfit would work for whatever he had planned.
She still had trouble believing that she was about to go on a date with Sy LaMarque. His poster was on the wall in her walk-in-closet, for crying out loud. And before he’d been a national heartthrob, he had been her first crush. Right now, she feared the very literal meaning of that word. It hurt to let herself think about him like this, to let her mind roam free with the possibility that something real could exist between them.
But could it? Did it? Is that really what he meant when he asked her on this date?
Amy pressed a hand to her chest. She shouldn’t get too excited. Back when she was a kid, Sy paid attention to her only because of Delia. Maybe also because of her sickness. Delia had flat-out told Amy that one day after Sy had left their house. “He’s only nice because he feels sorry for you,” Delia had sneered.
She didn’t do it often, but Delia could be really cutting with her words. One of her boyfriends had broken up with her or something and she took it out on Amy. That’s what she said when she apologized the next day, but the damage had been done.
For almost a month, Amy had been too embarrassed to come out of her room when Sy came over. The echo of that feeling made her breath falter. Was that all this was? He wanted to take her out because he felt sorry for her?
Sy didn’t get his Perpetual Bachelor nickname for no reason. He didn’t date. So, of course this wasn’t something real.
Not to him, anyway.
But even with the knowledge that this was most likely a pity-date, Amy couldn’t quell the excitement that coursed through her, or the stupid sense of hope that bloomed in her chest. She wanted it to be real. She wanted Sy. Maybe for this one date, she could just pretend. Really, she was living on borrowed time anyway. Cancer should have killed her as a teenager. Now she might have it again. Why couldn’t she pretend to have what she always wanted, even if she had to wake up tomorrow knowing it wasn’t real?
Closing her eyes, Amy whispered a quiet prayer. “Lord, I know I don’t do this enough anymore. And I shouldn’t pray just when I need something, but here I am. Please don’t let Sy break my heart.”
She blew out a long breath, thinking about her doctor’s phone calls. “Please, don’t let it be back. Please.”
Amy smoothed down her sweater as she stood. Just before she opened the door to her room, she added a last bit. “And help me remember to pray not just in the low times. Amen.”
Opening the door, Amy listened for Sy upstairs. His bedroom was above hers and she had heard his heavy footfalls as she got ready. But now, nothing. Should she go up?
A knock at the front door sent her pulse racing. Not now! The last thing she wanted was to deal with a potential guest. Even if she was sending them away because Sy had paid for the whole place. She strode to the front door, an apology on her lips. But when she swung open the door, she froze.
Sy stood on the porch, looking incredible in dark jeans and a fitted polo shirt that clung to his massive chest and arms. It was his smile, though, and the warmth in his honey eyes that made her breath catch.
He pulled a single flower from behind his back. Not a rose, but some kind of beautiful purple lily. In thirty minutes, he somehow managed to shower, get ready, and find a flower for her. Whatever the guy did tonight—Tim? Jeff? She couldn’t remember his name—he would never live up to this.
“Sy,” she finally managed to get out.
“Amy, you look perfect. Are you ready?”
She nodded, unable to find words. This felt too sweet, too torturous. She bit her lip, wishing that this could be real. “Let me get this in water.”
Amy took the flower from his hands, noting that a little dirt cling to the stem. Had he stolen it from a neighbor’s yard? Probably. She stifled a giggle, finding a glass vase in the cabinet and filling it with water. Before she went back to the front door, she opened the freezer and stuck her face in, letting the blast of air cool her cheeks.
“That prayer from earlier, God? I think I need a double dose.” She sighed. “I think I’m in big trouble.”
Amy had underestimated the amount of trouble she was in. Because whether he was taking her on this date just to be nice or because he actually felt attracted to her, Sy made her feel like the only woman on earth.
From the way he took her arm from the front porch, leading her down to the car to the way he opened every door, she had never felt so treasured. Especially when everywhere he went, women ogled him, and he kept his eyes firmly on Amy. The women didn’t seem to care that he was clearly on a date. One even asked Amy to take a picture of her with Sy, who politely but firmly refused.
He barely glanced at the women who sidled up to him, speaking in throaty tones that made jealousy rage through Amy like a brush fire. He kept his eyes fixed on her, grinning when she didn’t do a good enough job hiding her feelings of jealousy.
“Jealousy is cute on you. But you don’t need to worry, you know.” Sy murmured as they sat down to lunch and the waitress tried to linger by the table, brushing against him.
Cute? Amy’s cheeks grew pink from the compliment, though she would have preferred gorgeous or beautiful.
“I’m only worried I might stab her with a fork,” Amy said, when the waitress finally moved away.
Sy laughed. “Now, that I’d like to see. But seriously, I’m here with you. No one else exists.” He waved a hand dismissively.
Amy tried to shove away the feelings of insecurity. She didn’t want to ruin the mood by being needy. But the kinds of women who came up to Sy were not just beautiful, they were gorgeous. It was like magic how they seemed to pop out wherever they went. From the start of their date at a mini golf place, to a leisurely walk around a lake, and now at lunch, there was a perfect woman at every corner. All making very clear what they wanted: Sy.
Compared to them, Amy didn’t have experience. She didn’t have a model body or a perfectly made-up face. She was so … ordinary. Or, as he had just put it, cute.
Sy stood out just like those women did. He was perfection, from his massive build and the handsome cut of his jaw to his perfect features. He was the kind of man who made people stop and take notice. Just like the women who kept throwing themselves at him. He belonged with someone like that. As much as Amy wanted to just relax and enjoy this pretend-date, insecurities kept popping up.
“I guess I just don’t know why you’re here with me,” she said, finally, dropping her gaze. She squeezed her eyes shut as the moment dragged on. Self-doubt was unattractive in a woman. She’d read the articles on how to get—and keep—a man. Telling him you didn’t think you were good enough was a definite no.
“Ames? Will you look at me?”
Slowly, she lifted her eyes, feeling worse than she had before she spoke. Her lip trembled, and she worried that she might make it even worse by crying. But Sy’s expression made her doubts slide away. She wouldn’t have thought it possible, but his eyes held even more warmth than she’d seen, making the brown shine like liquid amber. Her chest tightened.
“Sweetie, you know my stats, right?” She nodded. “Well, this isn’t official, but you probably also know my nickname. They call me the team’s PB: Perpetual Bachelor. Terrible nickname, but it’s true. I don’t date. You know that, right?”
“Right.”
He reached across the table and took her hand. They’d held hands for grace—twice now—but this touch felt completely different. Amy hoped he couldn’t see how affected she was by the simple feel of his fingers on hers.
Sy smiled, soft and slow. “I’m here with you, Amy. Only you. Not any of these women or any others. I chose you.”
That sounded like way more than a pity-date. She knew her cheeks had flushed, and Amy could not manage to move her lips to respond.
Could this be real for him too?
Dropping her hand, Sy picked up his menu and smirked at her over the top. “Plus, you’re the one who’s two-timing me with some schmuck you haven’t even met from the internet.”
Amy covered her mouth as she giggled. The waitress chose that moment to return, shooting Amy a dark look as she positioned herself so that her cleavage was directly in Sy’s eyeline. He kept his gaze on Amy and even winked.
“Are we ready? I’d love to get started serving you,” the waitress cooed.
Sy took Amy’s hand again, making her heart thump. “Darling,” he said. “Would you mind ordering for me?”
The waitress turned to Amy, managing to plaster a smile on her face. “What would you like?”
“First of all, I would like for you to stop flirting with my date.”
Sy’s eyebrows shot up his forehead and he looked like he was about to start laughing. The waitress’ eyes went wide and then narrowed. With pursed lips, she nodded.
“Now that we’ve got that settled, I’ll order.”
A
my had debated picking something cheap, but decided to go with what she really wanted, which was a more expensive meal of seafood and pasta. She ordered what she hoped Sy would like: steak, roasted vegetables, and mashed potatoes. He didn’t correct her, so she must have done okay. The waitress wrote down the order and stormed away.
Sy squeezed her hand once more before letting it go. Amy wished she was bold enough to hold on, but she had just used up most of her bravery on the waitress. When he kept grinning at her, Amy shrugged. “What?”
“I know I told you not five minutes ago not to worry about other women, but it sure was fun to see your claws, Ames.”
She raised her brows. “Why, Sy, whatever do you mean?”
The conversation flowed over their lunch as though they were old friends catching up. Which, really, they were. Sy talked about the team and shared funny stories about the guys he hung out with most. She almost felt like she knew DJ, Jett, Rev, and Austin. The Sy LaMarque fangirl in her loved hearing about the behind-the-scenes life of pro athletes.
Sy asked her about running the bed and breakfast and Amy shared some of the strange quirks guests had. Like the man who brought his own espresso maker and demanded that Amy make him lattes for the duration of his stay.
“Did you do it?”
She shrugged. “I’ve always wanted to know how. You can learn everything on YouTube. Now I can make a mean latte. I actually got pretty spoiled. Maybe one day I can upgrade to an espresso machine. Clearly, you aren’t the first diva I’ve dealt with.”
“Diva?” Sy practically growled the word.
“Let’s see— you had to rent out the whole bed and breakfast, just so you didn’t have to share space. You have a personal chef and a housekeeper to pick up after you. And you got your already-fancy car even more tricked out. Diva. If the shoe fits …”
Sy couldn’t even argue back. But he didn’t seem to mind the teasing, flirtatious banter. Amy couldn’t remember the last time she had smiled so much in a short span of time.
Even the waitress dialed it back a few notches, though she did ask for a photo with Sy after another couple in the restaurant asked first. Though he had said no when other people asked earlier, Sy looked to Amy for approval. She nodded and tried to tamp down the hot anger that burned through her as the waitress almost wrapped her body around Sy’s for the photo. Sy smirked at Amy and she wondered if he just liked seeing her flustered and jealous.
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