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9 - Not until you realize.

"A sort of job I've been living on. How do you think I've been faring before I met you?" Stacey asked, clenching her fist.

The sun was sizzling and so was her temper. People were starting to stare, hence she was trying her best to be cordial.

"Quit your job."

Shocked at the statement, Stacey took a step back, but still controlled her breathing and voice. "No. I don't have as much choice as you think I do."

Trembling with wrath, Dylan tapped his foot then glared at Stacey. "You do. Quit it. I'll get another for you. I can't afford for a family member or a friend to recognize you."

Anger blossomed in Stacey's serene face. "Excuse me, what's that supposed to mean? Tell me, what is your business with where I work and who sees me?"

Dylan ran his hand through his hair as he stared at Stacey then at Mace who gave him a 'not my problem' look.

Sighing, he spat out. "You are my business. The moment I paid that money and met you, you became my girlfriend and you became my business. So damn it if I care about where you work."

Stacey glared at him with burning reproachful eyes.

Anger filled her at the realization that he could, at one point, almost embarrass her with his words. The attendants were starting to peek through the glass; no doubt murmuring and wondering about what was going on.

Dylan took her silence as a lever to continue. "Seeing as you can't talk, it seems there's more to your job that's why you can't let go." He paused as if realizing. "Maybe you do extra favors for the men you wait on, I'm sure you know what I mean, seeing as you are—"

That afternoon, under a relentless sun that made the air crack and shimmy as it drafted down the street, a resounding crack was heard— one that made Stacey's hand sting and Dylan's cheek burn madly.

The slap had caught him off guard and stunned him into silence. Mace glanced at Dylan wondering if this was his friend that just got humiliated. "Oh wow."

Still flared up, Stacey whipped to Mace who instantly took a step back and pretended to glance at his watch. "Would you look at the time? I'll just, you know. . . Yeah."

Laughing awkwardly, Mace scratched the back of his neck and slowly backed up. Before they could make heads and tails of him, he vaporized as quickly as he materialized.

Stacey leaned over until both their faces were only inches apart. "Don't you ever in your life. Ever!"

She took a step back and removed all the emotion from her voice, till it was cold and bland. "Now, let's not meet. Neither should we contact each other not until you realize what you said and did wrong. "

Dylan lowered his gaze as his blood pounded and his face grew hot with humiliation.

One thought valiantly ran through his mind as she went around the car—all eleven bags in hand— gave a brief nod to Griffin, then hailed a cab.

How the heck was he supposed to even contact her if numbers were never exchanged?

The sun felt like it was glaring down on him in cohorts with people. A quick scan of his surroundings confirmed his suspicion when all the attendants scrambled further into the shop.

Even the usually desolate street seemed to be thoroughly active and it wasn't until Griffin reached him, did he realize his palm was still glued to his cheek.

He blinked. "What just happened?"

Griffin placed a coarse hand on Dylan's shoulder. "You just had your first fight."