Perfectly Broken (3 page)

Reed grabbed his neck and shut off his phone. He wondered if Griffin would be trouble.

* * *

“I saw you checking out Peyton yesterday,” Bret said, holding a punching bag.

Reed jabbed with his right hand. “Do you have a problem with that?”

“No, I was surprised you didn’t make a move.”

“Maybe I will today.”

“Store’s closed on Sunday. Mondays, too.”

“Damn.” Reed landed a left cross on the bag. “Do you know if she’s seeing anyone?”

“I don’t really know. Would it matter?”

Reed smiled. “Probably not.” He came with a combination before dropping his hands.

“Just a word of warning,” Bret said and tossed Reed a towel, “Quinn will kill you if you hurt her.”

“I don’t give a shit about Quinn.”

“I do. And Peyton, too.”

Reed began to throw again. “How about you just worry about keeping Quinn happy, OK? That’s probably a full-time job.”

“Dude, all I’m saying is Peyton is a friend. She’s had some hard knocks in her life.”

Reed lowered his hands again.
Hard knocks?

* * *

Peyton used her off days to clean and do odd jobs around her house — the same large Garden District house where her grandparents raised her. There was always a broken gutter or stripped door needing attention. And she didn’t mind the work; it was a welcome diversion from the stress and routine of the pie shop. She also found time for a run in Audubon Park and made sure to hang out with her phantom roommate, which usually meant doing what Quinn loved most — shopping trendy boutiques and pouring over the latest designers whose names sounded more like exotic foods than clothing labels.

“I need something sizzling hot,” Quinn said, holding up a black Jimmy Choo dress and wrinkling her nose, thinking he should stick to making shoes. “I want the dress just high enough to drive Bret crazy wild.”

“I think Bret’s wild enough about you,” Peyton said.

Quinn flashed a wicked smile. “Last weekend, we did it six times. Bret’s like a bunny on steroids.”

“I’m going to start calling him Bugs!” Peyton cried, handing Quinn a royal blue tube dress with an asymmetrical hemline. “Vera Wang?”

Quinn’s eyes lit up. She grabbed the dress and disappeared into a dressing room. “I think Reed liked you,” she called out.

“No way. I’m not his type.”

“I’m not sure he has a type. He will screw anything in a skirt.”

Peyton smiled. “I bet women throw themselves at him.”

“They do,” Quinn agreed. “And he catches them all and tosses them back.”

“So he’s a man slut.”

“Bret tried to tell me all this nice crap about him, but the bottom line is he’s a commitment-phobe. You don’t want to get with a guy like that.”

“Relax! I’m sure he hasn’t given me a second thought.” Peyton held an emerald green dress by Tahari in front of a mirror. She undid her ponytail and tilted her head, finding the dress too short, in length and on top.

Quinn came out of the dressing room. “You should so buy that dress!”

“It’s not really me.” Peyton put the green dress back on the rack.

“Why’d you turn down the cover for the
Young Women to Watch
story?”

“I just wasn’t interested.”

“It could be really good for business.”

“Business is fine,” Peyton said.

“It could be really good for
you
.”

“I’m fine, too. How did you find out anyway?”

“The editor called me. He knows we’re friends and was hoping I could convince you. They really want you.” Quinn batted her eyes. “Do it for me?” She walked back into the dressing room to change.

“For
you
?”

“Yeah, it would make me look good to land you for the article.” Quinn stuck out her head. “And the cover, too. Please!”

Peyton rolled her eyes. “Fine, an article — and pictures of the shop and pies. But no cover and no pictures of me.”

“The readers want to see young, hot, successful New Orleans women.” Quinn batted her eyes again. “Please! I will supervise the whole thing, I promise.”

“Wait! Is this your story?”

Quinn stepped out with the blue dress in hand. “It will be if I can get you on the cover. Please do this for me! I’ve never had a cover. Please, please, please!”

Peyton twirled her locket. “This is a nightmare.”

“I could always just use the photo of you from spring break our freshman year — the one where....”

“OK, stop! You are impossible! I’ll do it for you.”

Quinn squealed. “I’ll let you know when!”

TUESDAY AFTER WORK,
Reed raced in and out of traffic on Magazine Street. He loosened the tie around his neck and gripped the wheel tighter, flying past employees sweeping their front entrances and bringing sidewalk sales back inside. He knew if he didn’t hurry, he’d see a “closed” sign hanging on Peyton’s picture window. And his patience was wearing thin. He’d already waited three days to see her — to take her to bed then hopefully get her out of his mind. But he knew it was more than that. He’d never been unable to forget about a girl before.

Reed spotted the green-striped awning a block ahead, and a rare parking space along the curb in front. He took a deep breath and swerved across oncoming traffic to grab it, ignoring car horns blaring from every direction. He turned to see the “open” sign still hanging.

The little bell jingled as he pushed open the shop door and walked to the counter. A slightly chubby, blonde girl greeted him with an enormous smile. “Can I help you?”

“I’m here to see Peyton.” The girl looked Reed up and down, her eyes huge, ready to devour him like a pie. Reed waved his hand in front of her face. “Is Peyton here?”

The girl motioned towards a door with a small glass opening. “She’s in the kitchen.”

“Well, could you please get her?” He looked down at her name tag. “Julia?”

Julia snapped out of her trance, the mention of her name reviving her. “Oh, I’ll go get her.” She walked towards the kitchen door, but before reaching it, she turned back for one more look. “And you are?”

“Reed Langston.”

Julia disappeared into the kitchen, finding Peyton putting away a jar of flour. “Some hot guy is here to see you.”

“What?” Peyton froze. “Who?”

“Does it really matter? He’s gorgeous.”

Peyton peered through the small glass opening, the butterflies storming back. Reed looked as good as she remembered, even better in a suit and tie. And she had no idea why he was back in her shop, why he wanted to see her, why he had to look so completely delicious when she had a dash of flour and syrup in her hair. She steadied herself, knowing it didn’t matter what she looked like. There was no way Reed was interested in her, and she couldn’t handle a guy like that anyway. She didn’t want to, either.
Sorry, Dr. Lorraine.
She had enough problems already. “Julia, can you please finish up in here for me.” She wiped her hands on her apron and adjusted her cap then pushed opened the door.

Peyton offered Reed a polite “hello.” A huge smile crossed his face, but no words came out. He’d given no thought what to say, too busy racing to see her, too busy thinking about her body. He grabbed his neck and darted his eyes around the shop, hoping the pinks and greens would somehow inspire him.
What the hell is wrong with me?
He saw Julia staring through the small glass opening. “I couldn’t stop thinking about that pie.”

Peyton wondered why he hadn’t just asked Julia. “I’m glad you liked it, but we are sold out of the devil’s food chocolate praline today.”

He frowned. “Perhaps you can recommend something else?”

“We are closing soon,” she quickly replied, “so there’s not much left.”

Reed felt his stomach churn, his hands begin to sweat. Peyton wasn’t giving him anything to work with, not even the slightest opening. He tried to think of some angle, some place for the conversation to go, but there was nothing coming to mind. He leaned forward on the counter, peering into her baby blue eyes, and fell into old habits. “I’m sure you have
something
I’d like.”

Peyton recoiled, remembering Quinn’s words of warning.
Do girls fall for that kind of crap?
She turned her cap around backwards, so she could better see into his eyes. “Here’s the thing,” she said. “You can try a whole lot of different kinds of pies and never be satisfied. So you just keep trying them all. Or you can wait for that one special kind of pie that can satisfy you with just one bite.” Peyton leaned forward on the counter. “So the question is — are you just looking for variety, or are you willing to hold out for the real deal?”

Reed grabbed his neck again. He could feel his heart pounding through his chest, as if she were looking directly into his soul, hurling more weird pie voodoo at him.

Julia emerged from the kitchen. “All done.”

“Great, lock up for me.” Peyton took off her cap and untied her apron then walked from behind the counter.

Reed stood dumbfounded, as Peyton headed straight out of the shop, closing the door behind her. He couldn’t remember a woman ever walking away from him before — certainly not like this. He rushed out of the shop, calling after Peyton walking down the street. “Hey!” But she kept walking. “Hey!” Reed jogged to catch up, as she clicked open her Mini Cooper and hopped inside. “Hey!” He knocked on her window. “I didn’t give you my answer.” Peyton rolled it down. “I’ll wait for the one bite. You know, the real deal.” Peyton rolled her eyes and drove away.

* * *

Quinn stretched out on Bret’s sofa, her legs on his lap, deep in thought watching
Say Yes to the Dress
. Then her phone rang.

“You’ll never believe who just showed up at the shop,” Peyton said.

Quinn sat up. “Drew Brees?” Bret looked at her curiously. “I just
love
him.”

“I wish,” Peyton said. “Can you talk?”

“Hang on,” Quinn said, walking to Bret’s bedroom and closing the door. Bret reached for the remote and turned the channel to
Duck Dynasty
.

Quinn plopped down on his messy bed, a hidden XBOX controller stabbing her. She grabbed the controller with her thumb and index finger, holding it away from her body like a dirty diaper. She tossed it on the floor and added the removal of all XBOX equipment to the growing list of changes she intended to make to Bret’s bedroom. “OK, tell me now.”

“Reed. I think he was hitting on me!”

“I tried to tell you.”

Peyton grinned. “I had no idea.”

“Stop smiling. I can feel you smiling through the phone.”

“I am not!” Peyton cried. “I’m not interested anyway!”

Quinn didn’t quite believe her. “Maybe you’re not interested, but Reed won’t give up so easily.”

“Really? Any advice?”

Quinn had a mind to spill every rumor, gossip, half-truth, fact she’d ever heard about Reed and the whole Langston family. She felt Peyton deserved to know before getting involved, or even thinking another minute about him. But Quinn decided not to. The excitement in Peyton’s voice — something Quinn hadn’t heard in the longest time — told her not to. And Quinn wasn’t about to squash that. Peyton, more than anyone else, deserved to have some excitement, some happiness in her life. Plus, Quinn remembered Bret’s request to be nice and, as hard as it was, decided to trust his judgment. “Look, I really don’t know him that well. He was in the same class as Griffin, but all I really know is from the rumor mill or Bret. Both aren’t totally trustworthy, I’m sure.”

“I’m honest,” Bret said from the doorway.

Quinn frowned. “Bret just came in, so I really can’t talk anymore. Just listen to your gut.” She hung up and looked at Bret. “I was on the phone. Peyton needed me.”

“Sorry. Have you seen my XBOX controller?” Quinn winced and pointed at the floor.

REED CAME BY
Adelaide’s each night. And Peyton never had the devil’s food chocolate praline. He knew it was intentional — that she was holding out on him — so he didn’t order another kind. She’d given him the choice of waiting for the real deal or just picking and choosing, and he wasn’t going to settle. He was determined to beat her at her own game. So he sat alone night after night, usually at the same table, working on some drawings or remaining paperwork from the day, and when that was done, played on his phone. Some nights he tried to engage Peyton in conversation, but it always fell flat. She’d say she was too busy behind the counter, though he saw she found time for small talk with Julia and every other customer.

After more than a week of playing their little cat and mouse game, Reed came in after work one night and stepped up to the counter, behind a well-dressed twenty-something guy whose full attention was on Peyton, plating a slice of the devil’s food chocolate praline. Reed tapped his foot, as Peyton smiled and chatted up the guy for what seemed like ten minutes. Before leaving, the guy dropped his business card and five bucks in the tip jar.

Reed stepped up to the counter. “You know what I want.”

“That was the last piece.” Peyton turned to Julia. “I need to step into the kitchen. Can you handle the counter?” Reed turned away and slumped to his table.

Julia waited until Peyton was in the kitchen and Reed was the only customer left. She then slipped into the restroom and removed her apron, undid a few buttons on her top, making sure her cleavage was properly exposed, and applied a fresh coat of make-up. She returned behind the counter and peered through the glass window of the kitchen door, making sure Peyton was still occupied, then reached into an ice box for a plate. She sashayed over to Reed, proudly holding a slice of devil’s food chocolate praline.

“Has Peyton had the pie every night?” he asked.

Julia took a seat beside him. “Yep.” She tossed her hair. “Some girls just like to play games.”

He stared down at the pie, wanting to take a bite, but disappointed it didn’t come from Peyton. He pushed it away. “Maybe you could help me figure out what Peyton likes?”

Julia sat back, wrinkling her nose. “I don’t know.”

“Oh, come on, Julia,” Reed said, leaning forward, splashing his best smile. “Help me out.”

“I really don’t know. We don’t talk about guys. I can’t remember Peyton ever talking about a guy or a date.”