Perfectly Broken (4 page)

Reed looked at her, confused. It seemed impossible a woman as beautiful as Peyton didn’t have guys lining up over her, no matter how badly she dressed. He didn’t know what else to say. An awkward silence fell over them — and then Julia obliterated it.

“You know I was on
American Idol
last season, right?”

Reed bit his tongue hard not to laugh. “I’m sorry, Julia. I missed last season.”
And every season
.

“I made it through the first few preliminary rounds. I’m going to try again next year.”

“Good for you.”

“The producers were interested in my back story, working here at the pie shop, so I’m going to push that more next year.” Julia nodded. “I know that would be awesome for Peyton.”

“I’m not interested in being on
American Idol
,” Peyton said sharply.

Reed snapped his neck to look at Peyton, a cold gray in her eyes, for a moment wondering if she was jealous.

“Why don’t you head on home, Julia?”

Julia shot up from her chair, embarrassed, then grabbed her purse and left.

Peyton took the pie from Reed. “You can’t eat that,” she huffed, walking behind the counter. “Julia didn’t even garnish it properly.”

He strolled to the counter, a crooked smile on his face. “At least she gave me a piece.”

She locked on his smile and dumped the pie in the garbage. “How long are we going to do this?”

“As long as it takes.”

Peyton exhaled and wiped her hands on her apron. “Fine, you win.” She reached under the counter — Reed sneaking a peek as she bent over — and pulled out a fresh piece.

Reed watched her shave some chocolate for the top, licking a smidge from her finger, the motion of her tongue across her lips causing his pulse to quicken. It seemed every little thing she did was sexy, and she wasn’t even trying. He took the pie from her and returned to his table. Peyton turned the sign to “closed,” but she didn’t lock the door.

“I’ve been wondering something. What kind of pie are you?”

“That’s private,” she teased.

“If I guess, will you tell me?” He took a giant bite.

“Guess away,” she said, waving her hand in the air. “But you’ll never get it right.”

Reed motioned for her to sit at his table, and she came over slowly, carefully. He smiled, pleased he was finally making some progress. “Let me see your hand,” he said.

Her heart pounding, Peyton placed her hand in his, fitting perfectly, the same jolt of electricity shooting between their fingertips. She quickly pulled her hand away, as if electrocuted.

“Same as me,” Reed said. “Devil’s food chocolate praline.”

“You’re really bad at this.”

“How about you tell me over dinner?”

Peyton reached for her locket. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Why not? Are you involved with someone?”

“I just don’t think it’s the best idea.” She looked away.

“You didn’t answer me,” he said sweetly, tilting his head to see her eyes. “Are you seeing someone?”

Peyton gathered herself and turned to face him. “I don’t have to answer you. It’s none of your business.”

“Just tell me you aren’t wasting your time on Griffin Dupuis.”

“Who told you that?”

“So you
are
dating him?”

“No,” Peyton replied but then wished she hadn’t been so quick. “Where are you getting all this?” Reed hesitated for a moment. “Who?” she pressed.

“Um, Google.”

Peyton raised her eyebrows, finding the intense, confident Reed nowhere to be found. “Find anything interesting?”

“I found a picture of Griffin Douchebag with his hand around your waist.”

“And did that bother you?”

“Let’s just say it made me curious.”

“Curious, huh? I’m curious what I’d find if I Googled you.”

“You haven’t already?” Reed squirmed in his chair, not knowing how many women she’d find on his arm, or God forbid what she might find out about his father. “How about you just ask whatever you want to know?”

She paused for a moment. “Can’t think of anything I want to know.”

Reed rolled his eyes and stood up, knowing she again had the upper hand.
She’s so damn cute.
“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow. Maybe you’ll think of something by then.” She shrugged her shoulders. He walked towards the door but before opening it, turned around. “You and Griffin?”

“Just friends.”

“His hand did bother me, by the way.” He saw Peyton’s cheeks blush. “Save me a piece of my pie tomorrow, and don’t forget to lock up.”

* * *

Bret looked around Cooter Brown’s, a popular New Orleans watering hole. Reed was late, but that was fine. Bret took out his phone and pulled up a video, turning the volume down low. He fixed his eyes on the screen — a young Asian dude with a cool vibe and crooked hat moving to some electronic music.

“Pop your shoulders, left then right,” the Asian commanded, demonstrating how it was done. Bret complied as if his life depended on it.

“Now add in your feet. You can go front to back, or side to side. Doesn’t matter. Feel your own flow. Just bounce slowly. Don’t rush it.” Bret again complied and moved as best he could in his chair. “Keep doing both things.” Bret quickly added his shoulders back in, having forgotten about them when he moved his feet. “We’ll add another layer in a moment.”

“Now add in your hips.” The Asian gyrated his in a circular motion. “Let them talk — really talk.” Bret tried to keep pace, swinging his hips violently while trying to keep his shoulders and feet going. He quickly grew angry, overwhelmed, pissed at the Asian who’d suddenly begun to move his hands and arms without any accompanying instructions.

Reed walked into the bar, and several women in mini-skirts flashed him a sexy smile. But he walked right past them, needing to find Bret. He spotted his friend sitting alone, moving like he was in pain while looking at his phone. He approached Bret from behind and took a seat at the table. “What the hell are you doing?”

Bret quickly sat up and shut off his phone. “Um, nothing.”

“Whatever it was, it was perverse.” Reed grabbed a pretzel and tossed it in his mouth. “What were you watching?”

“Quinn wants me to take her dancing. You know I can’t dance.”

“So you thought a video would help?”

“I don’t know.” Bret slugged his beer. “I was trying to learn some moves.”

“The video isn’t helping, but I need your help.”

“That’s a first.” Bret raised an eyebrow. “Who is she?”

“Peyton.”

Bret shook his head. “Quinn will jack you up, dude. She’s petite but has a big temper. Very controlling — especially about the people she loves.”

Reed waved him off. “Peyton’s playing games. You have to help me out.”

“Can’t do it.”

“Come on!” Reed begged then had a thought. “Any chance she’s going dancing?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Because I could show up if she was there.”

Bret rolled his eyes. “What the hell has gotten into you?”

“I need to get her out of her shop — get her on a level playing field.”

“That’s ridiculous. You
do
need help.”

“Give me something! Anything!”

Bret finished his beer. “Peyton lives in her grandmother’s old house, where she grew up. Her grandmother lives in a nursing home now.”

“How’s
that
supposed to help me?”

“Peyton’s not like the girls you hook up with. She’s not going to just jump into bed with you.”

“I’ve figured that much out.” Reed signaled for a beer.

Bret narrowed his eyes. “This isn’t just some challenge, huh?”

“No.” Reed grabbed the back of his neck. “I guess I just like her.”

Bret flashed a wry smile. “I’ve never seen you get serious about a girl. And Peyton
is
a girl to get serious over. She’s the type that wants a boyfriend, a husband, babies, the white picket fence. You up for that?”

“I don’t know. At this point, I just want to take her to dinner.” Reed slumped back in his chair.

Bret signaled for another beer and looked at Reed, hardly recognizing his friend. He gathered his thoughts then looked around the bar, ensuring there were no spies or undercover agents in Cooter Brown’s before divulging highly-classified government information. “Peyton runs in Audubon Park every morning.”

Reed’s eyes lit up. “Thanks, dude.”

“No matter what,” Bret warned, “you cannot let Peyton know I told you. Quinn will kick my ass.”

“Understood.”

“I don’t need more problems. She’s already pissed about my XBOX.”

THE PAST TWO
mornings, Reed dressed like he intended to run, stationing himself in different places amongst the runners, bikers, dog walkers, and yoga groups, hoping to “accidentally” bump into Peyton. But he never found her. He wondered whether she’d taken the mornings off, or whether he had come at the wrong time or maybe holed up in bad spots, or perhaps Bret was simply jerking him around, making him out to be some creepy stalker on the hunt for a young, single woman in Audubon Park in the early morning hours.

He picked a new location on the third morning, by the fountain at the St. Charles Avenue entrance. It was a good spot, probably where he should’ve been the first two mornings, where the joggers made their turn along the path. But with each passing runner, he worried he once again might be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Coffee cup in hand, he braced himself against a graceful oak tree, the sun just beginning to peek through, creating a maze of shadows along the green grass around him.

Then in the distance, he saw a woman in a t-shirt and baggy shorts, whizzing past other runners in tight shorts and tank tops. He couldn’t make out her face yet, but there was only one woman in the world who’d dress like that. He tossed his coffee cup in a trash can and prepared to make his move. As she drew closer, he saw she was wearing earbuds.

“Peyton!” he called out. She ran right past him. Reed cursed under his breath then raced to catch up with her. “Peyton!” But she didn’t turn back. After some more cursing, Reed came up next to her.

Peyton stopped mid-stride and pulled out her earbuds. “What are you doing here?” She started to run in place.

“I run here sometimes,” he lied then cracked a smile giving himself away.

“Right,” she mocked, as Reed watched her breasts jiggling slightly, her locket rising and falling. “How many miles is it all the way around the park?”

“Um, three,” he guessed.

Peyton stopped running in place and narrowed her eyes. “Are you following me around now?”

“No!” Peyton looked him up and down, making him uncomfortable. His worry about being a creepy stalker rushing back, Reed said the first thing that popped into his head. “Bret told me I could find you here.” Peyton smiled. “But please don’t tell Quinn! I promised Bret I wouldn’t tell you he told me.”

“I won’t say anything to Quinn.” She walked off the jogging path and put her heel on the back of a park bench to stretch.

Reed tilted his head admiring her flexibility.
Is she teasing me?
“You’re really fast. How long have you been running?”

“A few years,” Peyton said, tightening her ponytail then starting to walk the path.

Reed jogged a few steps to catch up. It seemed he was always chasing her. “So, I know the shop closes early on Saturdays. How about dinner?”

“Not tonight.”
He’s not going to give up.

“That’s better than a flat-out ‘no.’”

Peyton giggled. She couldn’t help it. He was so persistent and cute. She knew it was a bad idea, but God help her, she liked him.

An English Bulldog got off his leash and ran up to them, slobbering on a ball in his mouth. “Satchmo!” the dog’s owner cried. “Come here, boy!” Instead of coming back, the dog dropped the ball and started licking himself.

Reed gave the dog a little pat and threw the ball towards his owner. “If I could do that,” he said, “I’d never leave the house.”

“Maybe you should get a dog,” Peyton snarked, “and you two can sit around and pleasure yourselves all day.” She began to walk again, and Reed fell in line with her.

“Why are you so pissed?”

She stopped again and looked at him, his confident face now soft, his steel blue eyes now innocent. “I don’t know you well enough to be pissed at you.”

“Oh, come on! You can do better than that.”

“Fine, because you are the stereotypical playboy, with no personal goals other than where and when you’re going to get your next piece of ass, and always strutting around acting like your God’s gift.”

“How dare you!” Reed grinned. “I don’t
strut
around at all.”

Peyton threw her arms in the air. “If you ever want to go to dinner, you have to show me something.”

“Right here in the park?”

“No, idiot, show me who you are!”

“Oh, I was confused, since there are so many people around, but I’m not really shy so ....”

“Do you think about sex like every ten seconds?”

“No, like every hour or so. But around you it might be every ten seconds.” Reed smiled. “So like about 50 times since we’ve been talking here.”

Peyton eyed him curiously, unsure whether to laugh or slap him. “Do you honestly think I’m going to have sex with you?”

“Yes, I guarantee it.”

“You think I’m like those whores you screw, always rushing to the bathroom stall for a quickie?”

“Whoa!” Reed took a step back and put his hands up in surrender. “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but that’s not my thing.”

“What is your thing?”

Reed shrugged. “I like women. I enjoy them.”

“And
after
you’ve enjoyed them?”

“Look, I’ve never been a relationship guy. I go out and have fun. That’s it. No one gets hurt.”

“And these women are OK with that?”

“Yeah, they know what they’re getting with me. I don’t lie to them like other guys.”

“So I’d be one of your buffet of women?”

“
Buffet
?” Reed laughed out loud.

“Well, that’s what it seems like. Quantity over quality.”

“I have my favorites. So it’s not really a buffet.”

“More like fast food then? Quick delivery and a fast getaway.”

Reed laughed again. “I hope my delivery isn’t too quick!” Peyton rolled her eyes and walked off. “I wouldn’t expect you to be on the buffet,” he called out.