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“I meant what are you doinghere, in Eastland?”
“Ah. Yes, well. We need to talk.” He seemed to notice Jayce and the sheriff then. “Can we go somewhere private?”
There were a hundred angry things I wanted to say to him. I settled on, “I’ve got my own issues right now, Scott. I don’t have time to argue about the magazine spot for the food truck!”
Scott gave me a scowl which would have made a college professor proud, especially with the condescending tone that followed. “There were multiple ways you could have handled that situation without causing irreparable damage to our business.”
“Scott…”
“If you had merelydiscussedyour concerns with me rather than doing the most vindictive thing possible, we could have come to an agreement.” He shrugged. “I’m the one who is here so we can discuss it like adults. But if you would rather—”
“Scott, shut the hell up!” I snapped. “I don’t want to hear about the food truck. Go back to Savannah and I’ll call you tomorrow.”If there even is a tomorrow. If Jayce was right and the Copperheads were on their way…
Scott coughed and fiddled with his rolled-up sleeve. “Well. Um. Actually, that is not why I am here in Eastland.” He said the word as if it were a distasteful spice he did not care for. “I want to talk aboutus.”
“Us?” I asked, dumbfounded. “Us?”
He gave up on his sleeve and took another step forward. “I have made some mistakes. I am man enough to admit that.” The humbleness was ruined by the way he stuck his chin in the air and looked down his nose at me. “I wish I could take back what I have done, but seeing as though I cannot, I can only apologize.”
He nodded, then stepped closer and tried to wrap his arms around me as if all was forgiven. I put a palm on his chest to keep him at a distance.
“You’ve apologized,” I said, even though he hadn’tactuallyapologized. “I’m still not paying for that magazine spot.”
“No,” Scott said, blinking with confusion. “You are not listening. I am saying we should get back together.”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. I laughed right in his face, which summoned that first-class scowl again. “We arenotgetting back together,” I said.
“Charlie. Perhaps you should take some time to think about what we—”
“I’ve done nothingbutthink about it,” I interrupted. “That’s all I’ve been able to do in this stupid town for the past three weeks. I’m fine with everything, Scott. I’ve moved on.”
Scott stared at me as if I was speaking Greek, then looked around for another answer. His eyes settled on Jayce, and then narrowed. “Is this your new boyfriend?”
“This isn’t about him. Or anyone else. It’s about you and me.”
But Scott was focused on Jayce, now. “You know, I used to think you had a type. But I have to admit you really swung toward the other end of the spectrum with this rebound.”
“Other end of the spectrum,” Jayce repeated deadpan. “That’s funny.”
“I don’t know why I’m surprised,” Scott muttered, looking sideways at me. “You always did have low self-esteem, and a tattooed biker is exactly the kind of guy who—”
Jayce’s fist clocked Scott on the side of the face, sending my ex flying to the pavement. He scrambled to his feet and brushed off his shirt.
I’ve been waiting years to see someone do that to Scott,I thought with a smile.
“You punched me!” Scott said, voice quivering somewhere between shock and outrage. “You punched me!”
“Damn that hurt,” Jayce said, wincing and rubbing his knuckles.
“Was that really necessary?” I asked.
“I told you I’d punch him if I ever met him, Peaches.”
Jayce made no attempt to hurt him any further, but Scott backed away as if he was about to be assaulted again. When he reached his car, he turned to the sheriff. “That man physically attacked me! You saw it! There are witnesses!”
The sheriff snorted and said, “Son, you brought that on yourself.”
“Go home, Scott,” I said with a modicum of sympathy. “We can talk about everything later.”
