Troublemaker - Lisa B. Kamps Page 0,30

side, her back turned to where I normally slept. I still wanted to go to her. To pull her into my arms and apologize. To ask her to stay.

Instead, I turned and descended the steps, damn near tripping on my suit jacket. I grabbed the blanket and sheet and pillow from the closet then made my way back to the sofa and made up my own bed, the way I'd done the very first night Morgan had shown up here.

It was ten times more uncomfortable than it had been that first night because I didn't want to be there. I wanted to be in bed with Morgan, holding her tight against me as she slept. I wanted to feel the soft strands of her hair tickle the flesh of my chest as she used me for a pillow. I wanted to feel the warmth of her breath against my skin. I wanted—

I wanted a lot of things and I couldn't have any of them. For reasons I didn't understand, we were having our first argument. Kind of. And I had no idea why, or what it was even about.

All I knew was that unless I did some fast talking, it would be our last argument ever because Morgan would be leaving tomorrow.

And I had no idea how to stop her.

Chapter Fourteen

Morgan

Tension hung thick in the air, surrounding us with its oppressive weight. Neither one of us had said a single word in the last two hours, since Dylan woke up. I'd been up a little longer, unable to sleep because my mind kept going over and over last night.

Not that there was much to go over because neither one of us had really said much. That didn't stop me from replaying the last few words he'd said to me.

Then why are you still here?

His voice had been sharp, the words sounding like a bitter accusation. Like he wanted me gone and couldn't understand why I wasn't. If I had been thinking straight, I would have gotten dressed and left right then and there. I'd been too hurt, too stunned, to think straight so I did the only thing that made sense at the time: I turned out the light and rolled over, like some little kid who was pouting because they didn't get their way.

Dylan had called my name after that and I'd held my breath—again, like a little kid—hoping that he'd come to me and scoop me into his arms and tell me he wanted me to stay.

I hadn't admitted it out loud—or even to myself, not really, not then—but that's what I wanted. To stay. To have Dylan want me to stay. That was why I was still here, why I hadn't left already. Why I had let Jacqui and Addy take me out for a day of pampering and shopping, like we might actually be friends.

It was why I hadn't called Jacqui out on her little white lie when she'd told me the bus wasn't running until today. I'd checked the schedule when we got back from our outing the other night and knew better now. A bus left twice a day heading for San Diego, once in the morning and once in the evening.

I could have made this morning's bus if I had really wanted to—I was up early enough and it wouldn't have taken me long to pack and head out. But I had deliberately dragged my feet, waiting and hoping that Dylan would ask me to stay.

Maybe I really was just as bad as my mother. I would have never thought so but wasn't I doing the same thing she always did? Always looking for a man to latch onto, to take care of her.

Except I wasn't. At least, not deliberately. And I'd never done anything like this in the past. I was perfectly content to find my own way and live my own life without relying on anyone else.

So why was Dylan any different? What was it about him that unleased the ridiculous thoughts whirling through my head?

I dipped my head and stared at the plate of food in front of me. Despite the thick tension between us, Dylan had made breakfast for me. We both sat at the small dining room table just off the kitchen area, not saying a word as we ate.

Not that either of us was actually eating. I'd only had a few bites of my scrambled eggs and a nibble of the sausage and toast. He'd eaten a