Page 42 of One Bad Idea
"Forget the clothes," he said. "I'm not here for an old sweatshirt."
"So, whatareyou here for?" My stomach was still in knots, but I tried not to show it. "You, uh, don’t mean the truck, do you?"
He made a scoffing sound. "Why? I've got a new one."
Something in my shoulders eased, and I almost sighed with relief. So Jadenhadn'tbeen lying?
Thank God.
I looked toward the shiny red truck. "Wow, that was fast."
"Yeah, tell me about." Stuart's face broke into a happy grin. "That sweet baby? It's got eight cylinders under the hood."
I hadn't been talking about the truck's driving speed. I'd been talking about the speed of Stuart's purchase of a replacement vehicle. But the last thing I needed now was an argument. "Oh. Well, that's good."
His smile faded. "You don't even know what I'm talking about."
Okay, maybe I didn't know exactly what a cylinder was, but Ididknow that more cylinders equaled more power.
Forcing a smile, I said, "I know that eight is bigger than seven."
This was meant to be a joke. EvenIknew that cylinders came in pairs, which meant there was no such a thing as a seven-cylinder anything. My smile faltered. Or at least, I wasprettysure there was no such thing.
Stuart gave a snort of derision. "Seven? Goes to show whatyouknow."
God, what a douchebag.Stuart had no sense of humor. This was probably the main reason we'd broken up. Or maybe, he just didn't getmyhumor.
Now, my smile was long gone. Healwaysmade me feel like this – stupid and awkward, even when it came to the littlest things.
Outside the truck, he was saying, "You never got me at all."
He was right. I didn't.
Istilldidn't. And I especially didn't get why he was here. He'd claimed it was to get his stuff, but aside from the truck itself, I knew of nothing so valuable that he'd drive ten hours to get it.
And now, he was giving me the rundown on his new "sweet baby." I heard words like "filter canister" and "thermostat housing." By the time, he got to "engine displacement," I'd already checked out.
When he finished, I said, "Wow, that's quite a truck."
He gave a slow, satisfied nod. "I know, right?"
This was so entirely surreal. The last time I'd communicated with him, he'd been threatening to have me jailed. Now, he was acting like we were best truck buddies or something.
It was more than a little unsettling. Abruptly, I said, "What stuff are you talking about?"
He blinked. "What do you mean?"
"You said you were here to get your stuff."
"I know."
"Well?" I said, glancing around. "What stuff is it? Like paperwork or something? I could've mailed it, you know."
He frowned. "What, aren't you glad to see me?"
I gave him a look.What an asinine question.Of course I wasn't glad to see him. Our breakup hadn't been friendly.And, he'd been a rotten sport about the whole truck thing, too.
I didn't want to argue, and yet, I couldn't stop myself from saying, "Well, youdidthreaten to have me arrested."
