Troublemaker - Lisa B. Kamps Page 0,2

sure she did. I wasn't buying it for a second but I could still play along. "Then I guess you should go out to celebrate escaping a life sentence."

She took another deep breath and muttered something unintelligible. I didn't bother to ask her to repeat it—I was only willing to go so far in playing whatever game the guys had cooked up. I undid several more buttons, just enough that she could manage the rest on her own, then stepped back.

"There. You can get the rest."

She reached behind her with one hand, her fingers grazing the smooth skin of her back—the same smooth skin I was trying my best to ignore. Instead of undoing the remaining buttons on her own, she spun around and looked at me.

"Th-thank you."

And oh shit. Were those tears in her eyes? No. No way in hell. It was just my imagination—or my worst nightmare come to life.

Except it wasn't because she launched herself into my arms, buried her face against my chest, and started crying. I mean, really crying, with shaking shoulders and deep sobs that soaked my shirt and froze me in place.

Well shit. Now what the hell was I supposed to do?

Chapter Two

Dylan

"Wait. Just wait a sec." Tristan Holland, one of the Bourdons' wingers, drained his beer then slammed the mug down. He braced his arm on the table and leaned closer. "You just left her there? In your apartment."

"Pretty much."

"Are you really that fucking stupid? Ouch!" Tristan jerked back and glared at Jacqui, who met his glare with one of her own.

"Language, cher." She exchanged a smile with Addy Landry then took a small sip of whatever fruity martini thing she was drinking before focusing her clear hazel eyes on me.

I hadn't quite figured Jacqui out yet. She had jet black hair, wore a lot of dark makeup, and strutted around in five-inch heels that made her more than a head taller than some of the guys on the team. She wasn't dainty, not by a long shot. She also wasn't helpless, something we had learned when she cold-cocked Nathan Shaw in one of the bars on Bourbon Street more than a month ago. I hadn't said as much but Nathan pretty much had it coming to him because he'd stood Addy up.

Of course, none of us had realized Addy was the team owner's daughter at the time, not even Nathan. For reasons I still didn't understand, the potential disaster that could have led to was somehow averted. Probably a good thing, since Nathan and Addy were still very much together.

"Tristan's language aside, cher, I have to agree with him. This is New Orleans. You don't just leave strangers in your apartment—especially not ones who broke into it in the first place."

"She had a key."

"And that makes it okay? Damn, Gleason, you need your head examined."

Tristan was probably right but I wasn't going to admit it out loud. I took a long swallow of my own beer then brushed the back of my hand against my mouth. "She didn't have anywhere else to go."

"And you believed her?"

"She was in a wedding gown!"

"So?"

"I thought she was a stripper at first." Five sets of eyes stared at me. Tristan. Jacqui. Nathan and Addy. Luke Matthews. I yanked my gaze from the disbelieving stares and focused on the heavy mug cupped between my hands.

"You thought she was a stripper so you let her stay? In your apartment? By herself?"

Put that way, in Nathan's no-nonsense voice, made it sound even worse than it was. And I didn't let her stay because I thought she was a stripper at first. I let her stay because...

"She was crying," I finally admitted, like that somehow made all the difference.

"You've got to be kidding me."

"When the hell did you become such a damn softie?"

"Well I think it's sweet." I glanced over at Addy and was ready to thank her for being on my side but she kept talking. "Not exactly very smart, but still sweet."

"Fine. It was a dumb ass move. But what the hell else should I have done?"

"I don't know. Call the cops?"

"She didn't break in, she had a key." She hadn't been lying about that because I made her show it to me and even checked myself. Sure enough, the key opened my door with no problem.

"You should have still called the cops."

"Or at least taken the key from her and kicked her out."

I shot a glare at Luke then shook my head. "I was going to