Free Perfectly Broken by Prescott Lane Page A

do I know? I bake pies.”
    “I think you know a lot,” he said. She tries to find beauty in everything. “I’m starving. You hungry?” She nodded. He kissed the top of her head before walking off.
    Peyton turned back towards the mighty river, taking in its slow crawl, breathing in the fresh air. So far she’d had fun but feared he liked his women like he liked his buildings, shiny and new. She gently rubbed the scar on her temple. He can’t find the beauty in brokenness. She looked up to find Reed standing over her, holding two hot dogs.
    “Lucky Dogs aren’t exactly what I had in mind,” he said, handing one to her.
    Reed sat down and pulled two water bottles from his pockets, along with an assortment of condiments. Then he removed his jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves. They dressed their hot dogs, and Peyton took a huge bite, letting out a moan and smile in delight. She took two more bites and finished the whole thing then glanced at Reed, barely halfway done, and suddenly feared she looked like a pig.
    His eyes popped in amazement. His women usually didn’t eat much at all — often just a grape or two, and if really hungry, a side salad and water.
    “I like to eat,” Peyton said.
    “Good, but I never would’ve guessed since you turned me down for dinner so many times.”
    “I was just waiting for you to take me out for hot dogs.”
    Reed offered her a bite of his hot dog, which she took without hesitation. Then he looked down at what remained, appearing so small and sad now. “Do you want another one?”
    “No, I’m good.”
    Reed finished it off before she changed her mind. Then he slid closer to her and put his arm around her back. She leaned her head on his shoulder, the sun’s last breath leaving a trail of yellows, oranges, and reds accenting the golden highlights in her brown hair. He lifted her chin towards him and kissed her gently, softly, sweetly this time. Peyton felt a rush of heat, aching for more, a desire entirely unfamiliar. He parted her lips and caressed her tongue with his. She moaned in pleasure, her entire body trembling. Reed pulled her onto his lap and moved his attention to her neck, the slight stubble on his face sending sparks through her. His hand gripped her back and slid towards her shoulder, the strap of her dress falling down. He wanted to rip the dress off.
    Be patient. He pulled back and stared at her, panting, her eyes filled with desire, clearly wanting more herself. The corner of his mouth turned up. He lifted up the strap and gently ran his fingers through her hair.
    * * *
    They decided to hit Bourbon Street, the smell of booze coupled with cajun spice and jasmine welcoming them to the adult playground. They found the usual tourists and locals with beads around their necks — even though Mardi Gras was still weeks away — nursing drinks in a rainbow of colors, from blood-red Hurricanes to toffee-colored Sazeracs. They walked past a group of jazz musicians atop an ironclad balcony, young bottle-cap dancers tapping along below, a basket in front of them for donations.
    After tossing them a few bucks, Reed took her off the beaten path and onto some side streets. He pointed out his favorite old buildings, some ensconced by walls topped with old broken bottles for protection, some with long green storm shutters and narrow tall doors, some that looked like they should be on a Caribbean island, with their cream, light pink, and faded blue exteriors. And throughout his little tour, he kept his hand intertwined with hers and stole a kiss here and there. This wasn’t exactly what he had in mind for their first date — hot dogs and an architectural tour — but his heart raced each time she squeezed his hand or asked a question, letting him know she was genuinely interested and having a good time.
    Peyton was sure he’d kissed her on almost every street corner in the French Quarter. It was as if he needed to kiss her, needed to touch her, each time more sweet and