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“What kind of food truck was it?” he asked.
“It was calledThe Toasted Bun. We sold gourmet cheeseburgers.”
“Huh,” Jayce grunted. “What makes a burger gourmet?”
“The price tag,” I said, re-using an old joke Scott and I used to tell people. Jayce chuckled, and I went on, “We locally-sourced all of our food. Grass-fed beef and cheese from local farms. Other ingredients like applewood-smoked bacon, avocado slices, and blue-cheese sauce.”
“Shit, Peaches, you’re makin’ me hungry again.” He lightly kissed the back of my neck. “I grill a mean burger myself. There’s somethin’ soothing about standing in front of a grill watching meat char. I guess it appeals to my inner caveman.”
“You’ll have to make a burger for me sometime,” I said, then winced. What I was suggesting was awfully close to a date.
Jayce only scoffed. “You’d turn your nose up at my boring-ass country burger.”
“I would not!”
“One patty, a single slice of American cheese, a little bit of ketchup and mustard. You telling me that would meet your approval?”
“That’s it?” I asked. “No lettuce or tomatoes?”
“Too fancy.”
“I’d try it,” I said magnanimously. “I’m sure it would be delicious.”
Jayce’s grunt might have been agreement, and it might have been doubt. “So what did Scott do to piss you off? Buy cheap avocados? Skimp on the blue cheese?”
“He decided to take out an expensive ad in a local food magazine,” I explained. “And he charged three thousand dollars to my credit card, maxing me out.”
“Goddamn,” he breathed. “Peaches, that ain’t your standard annoying ex kind of shit. That’s fraud, or something. Identity theft.”
“Maybe,” I said. “It was in our joint PayPal account. So he had legitimate access to it. It’s not like he stole my card or hacked my account or anything.”
“Still. That’s fucked up.”
“You know what the worst part is?” I asked. “He tried to blame me. Like it wasmyfault he used that card.”
He squeezed me extra tight. “That sucks. Your card should have a notification or something when you get close to your limit, or go over.”
“I thought I did have those settings enabled.”
“Then why didn’t you get them?”
“Who knows,” I mumbled.
But Jayce was frowning against my shoulder. “You sure he doesn’t have access to your account?”
Getting out of bed took extra willpower, and Jayce leaned over and smacked my butt on the way to the laptop. I opened the lid and went to the account page for my credit card. I gasped at what I saw.
“All my notifications are disabled. And the phone… You have got to be kidding me!”
Jayce slid out of bed, his nude body stepping up to me. “What is it?”
“The primary phone number, where all alerts are sent to? It’s been changed.” I pointed. “That’s Scott’s number! Son of a bitch!”
His hand was warm on my shoulder. “You’re getting quite the mouth, Peaches. Not that I blame you.”
I switched over to the security page, then the list of recent logins. It showed the IP address (which meant nothing to me) and the city of origin. “Yep, look at all those Savannah logins. A dozen over the past week. He didn’t just login once to disable my notifications. He’s been watching my purchases since I got here!”
“Holy fuck…”
