Her Second Chance Hometown Groom Read online

  “Hmmm. That’s going to be hard. This moment’s pretty good.”

  “Then it sounds like my work is cut out for me.” He bent down and kissed her, making her arms tingle and her breath come quicker before he released her so they could walk into the party. He was definitely going to have to work hard to top that night, but she had a feeling he was ready for the challenge.

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  Her Second Chance Dream Groom by Emma St. Clair

  ONE

  “Sorry that I ruined your prom, Delia. Want to give me a second chance?”

  Sy groaned and spun his hands on the wheel of his SUV. He had been trying to compose a brilliant apology the whole drive to Katy from San Antonio, where he lived and played football for the Texas Rebels. But the closer he got to where he grew up, the more he struggled to find the right words. It wasn’t like there was good advice on how to tell your childhood crush you were sorry that you single-handedly ruined her prom.

  Yeah, Sy had Googled it. Nothing.

  Even though he kept bungling the words, Sy was truly sorry. It might seem small to some, but it was his biggest regret, and something that had stuck with him for the past six and a half years. Now he had come back home to make it right. And, if he could, to win over Delia.

  That had been his plan for prom night. But what started out as something he had dreamed about had turned into a nightmare. All because Derek Abernathy couldn’t keep his mouth shut, and Sy couldn’t control his temper. They got into a fight on Delia’s front lawn when he came to pick Delia up for prom.

  Sy got arrested. Delia went to prom alone. And his dreams of winning over his dream girl went up in flames.

  The first exit sign for Katy, Texas loomed before him. Sy eased his Range Rover off the highway, noting all the new development. Every time he came back home—which wasn’t as often since his parents moved to Arizona—Sy recognized less and less. Even the farm roads leading to Elton and Easton’s house had expanded. He passed a few gas stations, a grocery store, and a fireworks stand that had set up already for New Year’s Eve. Texans never did tire of blowing things up.

  Sy hadn’t called the twins to warn them he was coming but hoped he could crash in Elton and Easton’s guest bedroom. Until a few nights ago, he hadn’t planned to even come home before Christmas. But he had made a promise to his teammates, one Sy intended to keep. Even if finding the right words didn’t come easy to him.

  Sy and his best friends from the San Antonio Rebels had committed to spend their time off before Christmas dealing with their regrets. They had all been rocked when their team owner, Terry Jones, had died a few weeks ago. Way too soon. He had lived such a full life, though, and the guys had decided they wanted to do the same. Starting with righting a wrong from their pasts.

  No regrets.

  Delia had immediately come to Sy’s mind. Not that she was ever far from it, even if he never shared out loud the reason he never dated. Dubbed the Perpetual Bachelor by the press, Sy kept quiet about why he stayed single. Because it sounded really cheesy to say that you’re still pining after the girl you crushed on throughout high school.

  Messing up his chances with Delia might have been his biggest regret, but Sy already regretted this promise to his teammates. The past was best left right where it was.

  But Sy wouldn’t go back on his word. Not to those guys. The five of them had always been close. But after losing Terry, Sy felt even more of a bond to DJ, Rev, Emmett, and Jett. Scattered across the country, he knew the guys were dealing with their own regrets. If they could do it, so could Sy.

  Licking his lips, Sy tried again. “Hey, Delia! I know it’s been years, but I wanted to apologize for beating up Derek Abernathy and getting arrested on prom night. Think we could go out sometime?”

  Frustration coiled in his belly. A street sign caught his eye and Sy hit the brakes, realizing that he had almost missed the turn for Elton and Easton’s road. Where a cow pasture once stood, there was now a fancy gated neighborhood with a lake where residents could water ski. Sy shook his head as he turned down what had once been a familiar road. Planned communities lined both sides of the street all the way up to the twins’ twenty-acre property. They were the last hold outs who hadn’t sold their small farm to developers. Sy hoped they never would.

  As he passed the wooden alligator mailbox in their driveway, Sy kissed his palm and hit it on the roof. It was something he started doing in high school whenever he came to their house, which had been often. His parents were both doctors and worked long hours. When Sy wasn’t at Delia’s house, he was here. Sticking to the tradition at the mailbox felt right. Like good luck. Right now, Sy would take all the help he could get.

  Heck, maybe the twins would help him with his apology. Elton and Easton knew Delia, too—they had all been friends back in the day. Elton was a smooth talker and would probably have some great suggestions. Despite their identical looks, Easton was a lot quieter, but he had a way of seeing into the heart of situations. Maybe they could help him get what he really wanted: a second chance with Delia.

  The thought of talking to her made his heart thump. It had been a long time since he’d felt anything like it. Really, he hadn’t. Not since her. Sy was nervous, but he was excited too. Other than the guys, his life felt pretty empty. Football kept him busy, but it was those quiet moments alone in his empty loft near the stadium or his house further out in San Antonio that Sy really felt the weight of loneliness pressing in on his chest.

  Around the back of the house, Sy parked next to a Dodge Ram he didn’t recognize. Easton’s old truck was parked back by the barn. Elton had a new car every time Sy came into town, but it was always something shiny and fancy. A Ram wasn’t his style. Hopefully it wasn’t another house guest.

  He really should have called to make sure the twins would be okay with him staying. Not that Sy couldn’t afford a hotel but being alone the week before Christmas just felt depressing. Sy’s parents were on a cruise to the Bahamas, but he had practices and then a game on Christmas Eve. They had long ago given up on planning around his schedule. Really, they never had.

  He could count on one hand the number of games they’d attended, even back when he was in high school. Both doctors, they did a lot of good for other people … but had hardly ever been home. He spent more time with Delia, her little sister Amy, and her parents, than he did with his own. At one point, he’d been bitter. Now, he was just resigned. A close-knit family just wasn’t in the cards for him.

  As Sy hopped down from his SUV, he was still going over apologies. “Hey, Delia. I just wanted to apologize for making you have to go to prom alone. Maybe we could go on a date now and I could make it up to you?”

  Nope, that was terrible. As Sy walked up the back steps, he noted a few changes since he last visited. Someone—Easton, probably—had put in a wheelchair ramp along one side of the wraparound porch. The knockout roses that their mother had so carefully tended had long-since died, leaving the farmhouse looking strangely bleak. Both the twins’ parents had been killed in a car wreck three years ago.

  The thought hung over Sy like a dark cloud. The twins’ parents and Terry Jones—it seemed like death was all around. He shivered, even though the air barely held a chill.

  “Easton?” Sy stepped into the kitchen, and then stopped. The screen door slammed closed behind him as he stood with his mouth open. “Pax?”

  At the table, holding a bag of frozen peas to his very swollen face, sat Paxton Shaw, an old friend who had pla
yed football with him in high school. Pax now played in Dallas. The Rebels had lost to them not a month before.

  Pax stood up and dropped the peas on the table. “Hey, Sy. Long time since I’ve seen you off the field.”

  They did their best bro hug. Pax was about the same size as Sy and they played the same position—strong side linebacker. Back in the day, they helped Katy get to the state championship, even if they didn’t win the title that year. They hadn’t talked much since their football days, but they had lived parallel lives. Sy went to University of Texas while Pax went to Texas A&M. Pax now played for Dallas. The last time Sy saw Pax was at the funeral for the twins’ parents. He looked pretty much the same, black eye aside.

  Sy looked around the room as Pax fell back into a chair and held the frozen peas back up to his face.

  “Where are Elton and Easton? And what brought you back into town?”

  “E’s in the barn and El—who knows. Out somewhere. As for why I’m here, not really sure, to be honest. You?”

  Sy grunted and sat down. “Same. Are you staying here?” Pax nodded.

  Dang. That meant the guest room would be occupied. Hopefully, it would just be for a night or two. “Who gave you the shiner?”

  “Didn’t catch his name.”

  Pax kept his expression steady, but Sy knew exactly what his answer meant. He shook his head. “Fight night? Really, man?”

  “It’s all over the internet if you want a play by play.”

  Sy flinched. “Uh oh. Guess the league knows?”

  “Yep.”

  That couldn’t be good. More and more, the league cracked down on the players’ extracurricular activities. They weren’t likely to look away from taking part in an underground fight club. The twins’ oldest brother had started it way back in the day. In high school, Pax was a regular fighter. What most people didn’t know was that he used the money to support his family. Why do it now? It’s not like he needed the money. Pax would most likely have fines or even be benched for a game or two. This close to the end of the season, it might mean Pax was done.

  “Sorry man.”

  Paxton shrugged. “My choice. I’ll deal with the consequences.”

  Standing, Sy stretched his arms above his head. “I’m going to join E out in the barn. Good to see you. I’m sure I’ll see you around if you’re here for a while.”

  “I’ll be here for the week.”

  Great. Now he’d definitely need to call a hotel, Sy thought, making his way out to the old barn. “Easton?” His voice echoed over the concrete floor.

  Back in high school, the twins—who were the closest thing to cowboys Sy knew—had converted stalls into bedrooms so they could live in the barn with their horses. They literally grew up in a barn.

  Of course, their rooms were like something out of a home decor show with nice furniture and flat-screen TVs. Now the rest of the stalls had been removed, and a big red circle had been painted in the center of the floor. He thought he could see a bloodstain. He kicked it with the toe of his boot. Guess after their parents died, the twins moved fight nights here.

  Sy kept walking to the new barn closer to the back of the property. He found Easton brushing out a large, black horse cross-tied in the center of the aisle. The horse’s hooves clattered against the concrete barn floor when it saw Sy. It tossed its head, rolling its eyes and pressing its ears down. Sy knew horses well enough to stay back. Easton glanced back at Sy, then put a hand on the horse’s neck and whispered something before speaking to Sy.

  “Hey, brother.”

  “Hey, E. You don’t seem surprised to see me,” Sy said.

  Easton smiled. “It’s Christmas. Everyone comes home for Christmas. You see Pax inside?” Sy nodded, as Easton patted the neck of the big horse. “Let me put this guy away and we can talk. Looks like you’ve got something on your mind.”

  Sy leaned against the barn wall, watching as Easton led the horse into his stall, speaking quietly to him the whole time. Easton came back through the stall door and hung up the halter. “Come on back. I was about to do some work.”

  Easton led the way to his workshop toward the back. Sy was the furthest thing from a cowboy but loved the smell of horse and leather mixed with freshly sanded wood. Easton flicked on the lights in the workshop and Sy admired the pieces of furniture around the room. “I still need to order a kitchen table from you.”

  “Anytime, man. Just say the word. You’ve got the friends-and-family discount.”

  Sy shook his head. “Don’t need a discount, brother.”

  Easton smiled. “Suit yourself.” He uncovered a beautiful table in the center of the room. Sy ran a hand along it. It was dark wood with what looked like a turquoise inlay poured into the grain in a few places.

  Sy whistled. “This is beautiful.”

  “It’s alright,” Easton said.

  “You’re too hard on yourself.”

  Easton chuckled and pulled out a piece of sandpaper. He sat down and began to work on a bench next to the finished table. “I’m not the only one. Now, what’s on your mind?”

  “You ever talk to Delia anymore?”

  Easton didn’t look up but took a minute or two to answer. “Not so much these days. She spent some time in L.A., but I guess she’s back home. Why?”

  Sy knew Delia had gone out to California, hoping to make it as an actress. That had always been her dream. Sy couldn’t understand why she hadn’t made it. She was still gorgeous, maybe even better looking now than she had been back in high school. He might have secretly followed her on Instagram and kept up with her profile on IMDB, which mostly tracked her bit roles playing unnamed extras in soap operas and sitcoms.

  Sy rubbed his palms on his jeans. They were starting to sweat just thinking about talking to Delia. “I was thinking about trying to talk to her. You know, apologize for everything.” He almost told Easton that he was also hoping for a second chance, but he snapped his mouth shut instead.

  “Which part are you apologizing for? The fighting? Getting arrested? Or leaving her to go to prom alone? Disappointing Amy?”

  Amy. Sy’s gut clenched thinking of Delia’s little sister. Missing his chance with Delia wasn’t Sy’s only regret. He felt just as bad, if not worse, about disappointing Amy that night.

  It had been Sy’s idea to take Amy along with them out to dinner before prom. Amy had been battling cancer and doctors didn’t know if she would even survive to get to her own prom. She was a freshman when they were seniors, but her sickness and the fact that she was homeschooled made her seem like she was years younger.

  He could still see the excitement on Amy’s face when he asked her to go with them. He went almost as all-out as he had asking Delia, creating a scavenger hunt that ended with Sy in the backyard with a bunch of helium balloons spelling out ‘Prom dinner? Y or N?” Amy had squealed and thrown her arms around Sy. She had felt so light and tiny in his arms, all big blue eyes, a bald head, and hardly more than bones.

  With Delia, Sy had been more romantic, buying boxes of rose petals from some online wedding store. Even so, Amy had been far more excited to say yes.

  Delia didn’t seem thrilled to have Amy tag along to dinner. Sy had almost changed his mind about it, seeing the way Delia’s lips pursed. He didn’t want to lose his shot with Delia when she had finally said yes to him. But she had finally agreed. They planned to have pictures taken, go to dinner, then drop Amy back home before Sy and Delia went to prom. Sy had even brought two bouquets of flowers. They ended up getting crushed in the yard during his fight with Derek.

  Sy could still picture Delia’s furious, tear-streaked face as she stood on her front porch in a pink, puffy gown. Amy had been right behind her in an almost identical dress and a long, blonde wig. She hadn’t looked angry, but devastated. The expression on Amy’s face had cut right through Sy’s heart as the cops put him in cuffs. Thinking about it even now made his chest ache.

  Sy leaned forward, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. He stared
down at the sawdust at his feet, listening to the rasp of the sandpaper. “When you put it all together like that, it sounds pretty bad.”

  “It was pretty bad, brother. But it’s never too late to say you’re sorry. I respect that. It’s been a long time. Time heals, they say. It can also let wounds fester when they aren’t properly cleaned.”

  The words struck home. That was what Sy had feared, but hadn’t been able to voice so eloquently.

  “Ouch. Let’s hope it’s the first one.” Sy paused, kicking the toe of his boot through the sawdust, stirring it into little piles. “Got any advice for an apology? I’m not so good with words. Everything sounds stupid. Or, like not enough.”

  Easton paused his sanding, then started up again. “What’s your end goal?”

  “To apologize.”

  “I mean, past that. Why do you want to apologize? What do you hope to get out of this?”

  “I made this pact with my teammates. We’re supposed to right an old wrong or deal with a past regret.”

  “Okay, but why Delia? Why this?”

  Sy groaned. “Dude. I didn’t know you had a counseling license. I’m just trying to find the right words for an apology, not a deep dive into my psyche, or whatever.”

  Easton smiled. “I’m just trying to help you get to the root of it. I think your apology will be more sincere if you know why you’re doing it. Are you hoping to get together with Delia?”

  “No.” Lie. His ears burned with embarrassment and he knew the tips were probably red. Thankfully, Easton was focused on the wooden bench in front of him. “I just want to say I’m sorry for what I did. That’s all.”

  Sy expected Easton to push, but he let it to. “Okay, then. Maybe start with what you regret most. What feels like the worst part of the whole thing?”

  If Sy was being honest, disappointing Amy had made him feel like the biggest failure at the time. But it’s not like it had been a real date for her. Plus, Sy heard that Amy made it through cancer. She probably ended up going to her own prom and didn’t think about Sy twice after that.