Troublemaker - Lisa B. Kamps Page 0,62

time was so slow. Or maybe I'd just been thinking so much about Dylan that seeing him turn the corner and walk toward us didn't surprise me at first. My gaze landed on him and for a second, I thought maybe I was imagining him. The idea that he was actually here, just a few feet away, was unrealistic. It was just my mind working overtime, that was all.

Except it wasn't my imagination. Dylan was really here. He paused, looking as surprised as I was as he stared at me. Only he wasn't staring at me, he was staring at us. At Brandon and me, together. Dylan's gaze dropped to our clasped hands and he frowned. Then his gaze shot to mine and he started forward again, each step measured and deliberate.

I opened my mouth, ready to introduce Brandon, but I never got the chance. I could only stand there, watching in disbelief as Dylan swung out with one arm, his fist solidly connecting with Brandon's nose.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Dylan

I'd fucked up.

Completely and utterly fucked up.

There was no excuse for what I'd done. I had reasons, yeah, but they weren't excuses. Hell, they didn't even make sense, not even to me. It had been nothing but an impulse, an automatic reaction when I'd seen Morgan—and the man holding her hand.

I'd never been the jealous type. Never. I'd never cared enough before. But seeing that guy's hand wrapped around Morgan's, like he somehow had the right to be with her?

I'd lost it. Not just my control, but my sanity as well. That had never happened to me before and I hoped like hell it never happened again.

Losing my control in a fit of jealousy was bad enough—but doing violence at the same time? That made it a hundred times worse. I'd never willingly hit someone before, not unless you counted when I was on the ice, which I didn't. Maybe I'd gotten into a few shoving matches when I was younger but an actual fight? Nope.

Not until forty minutes ago.

I grabbed a fresh ice pack from the freezer then offered it to the man sitting at the island counter. He removed the one he'd been holding against his nose then shook his head.

"I think the one will be fine."

I nodded and accepted the pack he held out to me, then placed both of them on the counter. "I, um, I don't think it's broken."

He reached up and gingerly touched his nose, wincing only a little bit. There was a slight bump on the ridge, and his nose was a little red, but there wasn't much bruising and his eyes didn't show any signs of turning black. His nose had bled a little but not as much as it would have if I'd broken it—something I was sure would have happened if I hadn't tried to pull my punch at the last second.

I doubted Morgan would appreciate the difference. In fact, knowing her aversion to violence of any kind, I was positive she wouldn't.

Yeah, I fucked up.

I glanced over at Morgan but she ignored me, the way she'd done for the last forty minutes since we came back to my place. She was sitting on the stool next to the guy I'd clobbered, her back perfectly straight, her hands clasped in front of her.

Still. Silent. Ignoring not just me, but the man sitting next to her as well.

I reached into the refrigerator and pulled out two bottles of beer and a bottle of water. I uncapped all three, slid the water in front of Morgan, then offered the guy one of the beers.

He accepted it with a small smile then took a generous swallow the same time I did.

"So." I cleared my throat, slid a glance at Morgan, then looked back at him. "You're the fiancé, huh?"

"Was, yes. And you're the boyfriend."

Morgan stiffened and I half-expected her to say something, or maybe even get up and storm out. But she didn't move, not even to look over at us and glare.

I took another swallow of beer then lowered the bottle, trying to decide how to answer his question. Boyfriend? I had no idea, hadn't even given it any thought.

I dropped my gaze to the floor and shrugged. "Something like that, I guess."

"Morgan says you play for the Bourdons."

"Yeah. Defense."

Brandon touched his nose and laughed, the sound richer than I expected. "I'm not surprised."

"About that—I'm sorry. I have no idea what I was thinking and no excuse—"

"You saw me with Morgan. Totally understandable."

"Doesn't excuse what