Perfectly Broken (5 page)

She flashed a smile over her shoulder. “Good, because I’m definitely more like five star dining.”

* * *

Before Peyton opened up for the day, she prepped her pie crust, or at least tried to prep, completely distracted by her unexpected morning encounter. She’d never met anyone like Reed before — sexy, charming, maddening. There was something else that interested her, too — some secret, some insecurity, hidden underneath the hard body and cool facade. He knew when to flirt, look innocent, and work every bit of his charm to misdirect and keep women from looking any deeper. But she wasn’t sure she was the right woman to make the discovery; after all, she wasn’t sure of herself. She knew she was in way over her head, but Reed didn’t seem to be going anywhere.

And she couldn’t help but wonder why he was so interested — hanging out for days and days in her shop, meeting her in Audubon Park, wanting to go to dinner so badly. No man had pursued her for so long, so persistently. She was usually good at pushing men away. Virtually all of them would give up after a try or two, and she’d never see or hear from them again. For some reason, Reed was different, his intentions a total mystery. It was unnerving and exciting. It made her feel good. She smiled slightly inside.

Then out of nowhere, the lightning took over. The room suddenly began to spin, her heart racing like a jet plane. She gripped her chest, trying to control her breathing, and saw her hands begin to shake, seemingly moving on their own, the pie crust cracking in her hands. She grew dizzy and squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head, feeling it coming on, wishing it wasn’t, trying to gain control, not wanting to slip back to that night.

But the strikes always brought her back, the old memory made new again, the attack from behind. She threw her hands over her ears, hearing the thunderous screams, her own fierce, guttural cries, unheard and unanswered. The room spun again, and the lightning came closer this time, hitting harder, his dirty hand jamming her mouth, choking her, gagging her, muffling her screams. She grabbed her locket seeing the blood, the disgusting taste of metal mixed with salty tears, a momentary victory jolting her to fight on. But the jolt didn’t last. It was as empty as the darkness.

Then it was over.

Peyton brought her hands to her face, trembling, holding back tears, the struggle in her mind as hopeless as the struggle with him. With years of therapy, the flashbacks came less often, but they still came and worst of all, came whenever they damn well pleased, to do their unholy work, to leave behind pain and disappointment and a pounding headache. She looked down at the dough, crumpled and twisted. She sprinkled a touch of flour before submerging her hands again, telling herself not to grip too hard, her life always such a delicate dance.

* * *

It had been a long day. Peyton came out of the kitchen rubbing her scar, finding Reed at his usual table fidgeting on his phone. She felt her nerves calm slightly seeing him there, wondering how this confessed playboy could ever be so calming, so dependable. She offered him a tired smile then bent down to a display case.

Reed sensed she wasn’t quite herself, her face drawn, not appearing as strong as she was in the morning. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and kiss away whatever was bothering her.

The happy bell jingled, and Peyton came up to see a tall, blue-eyed blond with a cute smile and dimples, perfectly suited to model boxer briefs in some high-end fashion magazine. Her face brightened. “Griffin!”

Reed’s eyes flew to the entrance.
Griffin Dupussy.

“I had no idea you were coming!” Peyton shrieked, skipping around the counter, throwing her arms around Griffin who leaned into her neck, inhaling deeply.

It took every ounce of strength for Reed to keep his lunch down. And he couldn’t help but notice a raven-haired beauty a few steps behind Griffin, equally disgusted by what she was seeing, decked in a sharp, navy dress with red shoes.

Peyton released Griffin and pulled the woman into her arms. “Stephanie, you look so great! Please don’t tell me you got off the plane looking like that!”

Stephanie gave a tight smile. “Some of us have to try harder than others. We all don’t look adorable in baseball caps.”

Griffin gave his girlfriend a warning frown and gently removed Peyton’s cap, tossing it on a table. “I thought I’d surprise Stephanie with a late birthday trip,” he said, exchanging a knowing glance with Peyton, then running his fingers through his neatly-combed hair. “We’re just here for a couple nights. Thought we’d play tourist in New Orleans.”

Reed watched as they talked, how Griffin stood closer to Peyton than to Stephanie, the way his eyes lingered on Peyton a few seconds too long, a familiarity between them, making Reed wonder if they were ever more than friends. Stephanie made a slight move to position herself next to Griffin, linking her arm with his.

“I’m being so rude,” Peyton said. “Have a seat. Let me get you something.”

Griffin moved to sit, but Stephanie grabbed his arm. “We aren’t staying,” she said. “Just wanted to stop by and say ‘hi.’”

“We can stay a minute, honey. I would love a piece of Peyton’s pie.”

He said what?
Reed shifted in his chair and knocked his phone to the brick floor, catching Griffin’s attention. Their eyes bore into each other.

Peyton took a small step forward and cleared her throat. “I guess you two know each other.” Each man gave the other a slight nod, but nothing more. Stephanie’s phone rang breaking the tension, and she excused herself outside the shop.

Griffin draped his arm around Peyton. “Can you sneak me a piece to go? Apple, remember?”

Reed’s stomach churned.
Of course apple, you golden boy piece of shit
. He looked out to Stephanie still on the phone, surrounded by a flock of Italian tourists, then turned back to find Griffin grazing Peyton’s hand while taking a box of pie. Stephanie tapped on the picture window with her phone, signaling she was beyond ready to leave. Griffin kissed Peyton on the cheek and left.

Reed hung around another hour until the shop closed, stewing in his seat. It was bad enough to see Griffin’s hand around her waist in the photo, but seeing him hold her, kiss her, touch her — while Peyton smiled along — was so much worse. He knew when a guy — even if in a relationship already — wanted a girl.
Is she this naive?

Peyton took a long drink from a water bottle behind the counter. Reed’s phone rang, and he quickly hit decline. “You have a fuck buddy to go play with?” she teased.

“Nope, I prefer to play with you.”

Peyton started into the kitchen to clean up, and Reed followed behind, not about to be dismissed, not after watching her with Griffin. She struggled to lift an enormous bag of flour. “Let me get that,” he said, quickly taking the bag from her, squeezing too tightly, a dense cloud of flour spraying into his face. Peyton bit her lip not to laugh, as he placed the bag on the metal island.

“So you don’t love these women?”

Reed dusted himself off. “God, we’re back to this? No.”

“Have you ever been in love?”

“No.” His phone rang again, and he switched it to vibrate, placing it on the counter. “You?”

Peyton shook her head. “Why no relationships? Why just sex?” Reed shrugged. “Is it that you don’t know, or that you don’t want to tell me?”

Reed cast his eyes down. The last thing he wanted to do was get into any touchy-feely nonsense, but he knew if he was ever going to get dinner — or more — he’d have to open up a little, to show her something like she asked this morning. He took a seat on a stool by the island. “I guess I’m just like my dad — at least that’s what everyone always says.” Reed reached for his neck and looked up at her beautiful, searching eyes, her silence beckoning him to continue. He swallowed hard. “My dad slept around. I actually caught him when I was about 14.”

Reed couldn’t believe the words came out of his mouth. Peyton seemed to have some magical effect on him, getting fully underneath his skin. He’d never told anyone about his father before, though it was common gossip in and around New Orleans, where everyone seemed to know everyone — and to know everyone’s business, too. Still, he wasn’t about to tell her everything. Some things should remain buried in old newspaper clippings.

She reached for his hand just as his phone went off again, vibrating loudly against the metal. Peyton pulled back her hand, as he declined the call. “So you think womanizing is genetic?”

Reed smiled. “I guess you live what you know.”

“Your dad lies to these women?” Reed nodded. “He lies to your mother?” He nodded once more. “Well, you don’t seem like your father to me.”

“You’re the first to say that.”

“You told me you never lie to your women, so that seems different.”

“I’m not a good liar.”

Of course not
, Peyton thought.
You don’t want to be like your father. And you don’t want to get hurt like your mother.

His phone went off again. He stuffed it down his pocket.

“Jesus, what’s that like ten women now?” she teased.

“No, the same one. I’m sorry.”

“She must be in bed waiting for you.”

“It’s not like that. Well, not
always
like that.” Reed smiled. “She’s an old family friend.”

She winked at him. “I’m sure.”

“As you can see, I’ve declined each of her calls. Will you have dinner with me tonight?”

“No.”

“I promise I won’t take you to a buffet.” Peyton laughed “How can I get you to go?” He searched her eyes, finding the hint of sadness and fear he’d seen before. Something clicked inside him — his dream.
Stop fighting. Be patient.
“I promise we’ll take things slow. I’m in no hurry. Just dinner, I promise.”

Peyton twirled her locket, her heart telling her to go but her mind telling her to run. She knew what Dr. Lorraine would want her to do. “I need one more promise.”

He stepped closer and took her hand, trembling slightly, feeling the adrenaline coursing through her body. “Name it.”

“No trips to the bathroom stall.” Peyton reached up and gently wiped some flour from his chin.

“Only if you ask nicely.” Reed watched her eyes, his entire body on fire from just her fingertips on his face. He stroked her cheek and whispered, “Take a chance.”

“OK, I’ll have dinner with you.”

“Finally!” He let out a deep breath. For a moment he thought to kiss her but remembered he just promised to control himself. “Tonight?”

“Can’t tonight.”

“Hot date?”

“The only date I have is with you. And we’ll have to wait and see how hot it is.”

Reed leaned down, his warm breath tickling her neck. “I guarantee it will be pretty damn hot.”

* * *

“Do you see Griffin and Stephanie?” Quinn yelled over the dueling pianos in Pat O’Brien’s.

“Not yet,” Peyton yelled back. She and Quinn had planned for a girls night out but decided to include Griffin and Stephanie since they’d come in town. Peyton grabbed a table for four.

Quinn flashed Peyton a sexy grin. “I give it five minutes — actually three if you undo a few buttons on your shirt.” Back in college, they prided themselves on never having to buy a drink and guessing how long it would take for one to arrive.

“Hike up your skirt,” Peyton teased, “and it will be less than two.”

Quinn’s phone rang. “Bugs,” she said with a giggle before walking away to answer.

Peyton smiled and picked up a menu. Suddenly a fruity rum cocktail appeared under her nose, in a glass shaped like a hurricane lamp, garnished with an orange slice and a cherry. Peyton looked up, first seeing Quinn smirk while talking to Bret, then into a pair of dark brown eyes attached to a buff guy with a shaved head and tattoos on both arms.

“No thanks,” Peyton said, taking in his thick hands.

“Just one drink?”

“I don’t drink,” she fibbed.

“Then what are you doing in a bar, baby?”

Baby?
Peyton cleared her throat. “See my friend over there?” She pointed to Quinn and eyed her to hurry up. “She is a sloppy drunk, a real lush. She makes really bad decisions. I came along just to make sure she gets home.”

“I can make sure you
both
get home,” he suggested. “Or maybe to my place?”

Peyton tried not to barf. “Are you serious,
baby
?”

“Oh yeah!”

Peyton closed her eyes and drew a deep breath for patience. Then she felt a familiar hand take hers and opened her eyes to find sandy blond hair and two huge dimples staring up at her from bended knee.

“Besides you,” Griffin said, “the only other woman that will bring me to my knee will be our daughter when she needs me to tie her shoes.”

Peyton’s face flew into a huge smile, her hand flying over her heart as if deeply moved. Griffin got up, and she fell into his arms.

Griffin looked at the buff guy. “That’s how it’s done,” he said. The buff guy walked off in a huff, taking the Hurricane with him.

“Thanks for the save,” Peyton said, remembering back to college when Griffin truly had saved her. Her face in the dirt, hearing him calling her name then opening her eyes, battered and bruised, seeing just a trace of his blue eyes as he lifted her to the safety of his arms and carried her to an ambulance.

Griffin placed his arm on the back of her chair. “Anytime.”

Quinn returned to the table and pecked Griffin on the cheek. “Where’s Stephanie?”

He shrugged. “Probably at the airport by now. She’s mad at me again. I can’t seem to do anything right in her mind lately.” Peyton and Quinn exchanged a glance. “She hated the purse for her birthday. Now I surprised her with this trip — didn’t tell her where we were going. Apparently, my hometown was a huge disappointment.” Griffin motioned to the waitress for a beer. “I put us in the nicest hotel — in a damn penthouse suite — and she’s still mad.”

“I really like her,” Quinn said. “I don’t understand what’s going on with you two.” The waitress brought over the beer. “Maybe, it’s time to cut your losses.”

Griffin took a long slug. “I’ve been thinking the same thing.” He glanced at Peyton patting his arm. “I’ve actually been thinking about moving back, starting fresh.”