“This might be a bit more complicated than you led me to believe, Callahan,” Constance said later that night.

“Nah, you got the hang of it,” he said.

Constance grinned, but wasn’t as confident as he was. She had already spilled a beer, and her T-shirt was damp from the splashes.

She was also having more fun than she could remember.

This wasn’t working with Milo, but it was satisfying. She brought people drinks, got to share laughter and camaraderie, enough to make her forget that her heart was broken because of her own stupidity.

“And the customers like you,” Callahan said.

The tip jar was overflowing, but Constance suspected that was Lexi and Eric’s doing.

Still, she felt good, almost happy except for the hole in her chest.

“Two pitchers!” someone called from the other end of the bar.

“I got it,” Constance said as she went to fill the pitchers.

The taps were across from the door, and she turned toward them, faintly hearing the door open.

She paused, an eerie sensation passing over her, but she ignored it.

She filled the second pitcher and then grabbed them both, not looking at the bar’s newest occupant, but not having to.

How dare he!

“Fourteen fifty,” Constance said when she set the two pitchers on the table.

“Keep the change, sweet thing,” the man said as he slipped a twenty into her pocket.

“Thanks,” Constance said.

She turned and ran directly into Milo’s chest.

But he wasn’t looking at her. Instead he was glaring at the person who had put the cash in her pocket, and she could feel the tension that radiated through his body and in his expression.

She attempted to brush pass him, and he looked down at her, his dark eyes swirling with anger.

She stepped around him again, and this time he let her pass, though she felt his eyes boring into her.

She reached the bar, and saw that Callahan leaned against it, one foot propped behind him. His stance was casual, but he was glaring at Milo.

“Everything good, Constance?” he called.

He hadn’t looked at her though, still focused on Milo.

“I’m fine,” she said.

“Make sure it stays that way,” Callahan said.

His words were no doubt directed at Milo, who glared back at him, but Constance stepped between the men and Milo looked down at her, all of his attention focused on her.

“Constance, what are you doing here?” he growled.

“I’m working, Milo,” she said.

His expression darkened. “Working? You work for me. And you haven’t been in in for days,” he said.

His tone, the incredulity in it, had her seeing red, but she breathed through the anger. “In case you’ve forgotten, I don’t work for you anymore,” she said.

He snorted. “You’re not over that yet?”

She groaned.

“A pitcher and a basket of fries,” came another cry from the corner of the bar.

“I’m busy, Milo,” she said as she pushed by him and began to fill another pitcher.

Milo had been here for hours, and with each that passed had gotten angrier and angrier.

Constance hadn’t looked at him again, certainly hadn’t spoken to him, and seemed to be intent on keeping up the charade of working here.

In this place and not with him where she was supposed to be.

He could hardly believe that, and could believe even less how the very thought had him agitated.

Constance didn’t belong here. She belonged with him.

She was intent on ignoring him though.

In a couple of days she seemed to have forgotten that Milo was not a man who was content to be ignored.

He’d leave her alone for now, but Constance would be back where she belonged soon enough.

He stayed the whole night, and Callahan watched him the entire time.

“Bar’s closed,” Callahan said.

To her surprise Milo left, and Constance finally felt like she could breathe again.

“He giving you problems, Constance?” Callahan asked.

“My old boss,” she said.

“That so?” Callahan asked as he wiped down the bar top.

“Yeah,” she said.

“That all?” Callahan asked.

“Yeah,” she said.

Callahan was thoroughly unconvinced, but he didn’t press the issue. “He becomes a problem, I’m a phone call away,” he said.

“Thanks, Callahan,” she said.

They finished cleaning the bar and when Constance stepped outside she was not at all surprised to see Milo still standing at the corner, leaning against his luxury car.

“Night, Callahan,” she called, and then she turned and began walking in the opposite direction.

“Constance, get in the car,” Milo said.

Common sense told her she shouldn’t, but her feet were throbbing and besides, as irritating as the asshole was, she wanted to see him.

She walked back to the vehicle and went to the passenger side.

“So you got that out of your system?” Milo said when he pulled off.

She ignored him and instead looked out the window, watching the city as it passed.

He didn’t say anything else, and instead drove, then stopped in front of her house.

“I expect to see you at work tomorrow.”

“Then expect to be disappointed, Milo,” she said.

Then she got out of the car and slammed the door.