Perfectly Broken by Prescott Lane Page B

memories of the Super Bowl, and a few buildings around town. She stopped on a picture of a young black teen in a soccer uniform. “Is this your son?”
    “Yeah, can’t you see the resemblance?”
    “No, he’s way too cute to be yours.”
    “Jeremiah’s more like a little brother. We hang out, eat junk food, talk about girls. I’m supposed to be a good male influence — a mentor or something.”
    “God help that kid.” She closed the phone, seemingly unsatisfied and somewhat confused.
    “Did you expect to see a bunch of naked women on my phone?”
    “Yeah, at least half-naked.”
    “Are you offering to model for me?”
    “Not on the second date.”
    “Good, I have something to look forward to.”
    Peyton rolled her eyes. “You know, I did expect to see a bunch of women. I guess I shouldn’t check your contacts, though.”
    “Probably not. But your number is the only one I plan on using.” Reed began to punch buttons on his phone.
    “What are you doing?”
    He smiled at her. “Deleting phone numbers.”
    “You don’t have to do that,” she said.
    He pressed on, going as quickly as possible, not wanting her to know how many numbers he actually had.
    “Reed, you really don’t need to.”
    He paused at Heather’s name and decided to keep her; after all, she was a family friend. He deleted some more, and after another minute, his contact list was significantly smaller. “I’ve got to do one more thing.” He pulled up the photo of Peyton resting her head on his chest and made it his screen saver. “Done.”
    She stared at him, half-expecting him to fall into some kind of withdrawal or convulsions. But he simply smiled at her. Peyton opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
    “Looks like I finally shut that smart mouth of yours.”
    “I guess so,” she said, lifting her eyes slightly. “But I know those women will be calling you, or you could easily get new numbers.”
    Reed lowered his forehead to hers. “You’ve got to trust me a little bit. I’m not a liar or cheater. You will always know where you stand with me.”
    * * *
    For the next week, Reed texted and called Peyton every day, just to check in and see how she was doing. The best part of his day was hearing her voice or getting a sweet, sometimes sexy, text. When he could, he snuck away from work to bring her lunch or just a pink flower. He missed her when he couldn’t see her. He was already addicted, craving the taste of her. She was his sugar high. To get his fix, he swung by Adelaide’s Pie Shop every night after work and found himself sometimes staying until closing time, either chatting her up or just watching her move. He’d then drive her home, usually grabbing a drink or some late dinner along the way. And after each night, they kissed goodnight and went their separate ways — to separate beds — Reed left to looking at her photos in the morning. He never expected things would take this long. He hated he’d promised to go slowly. Things hadn’t taken this long since high school. He couldn’t figure out what the hold up was. He wanted to quicken the pace.

CHAPTER TEN
    REED HAD PLANS with Peyton tonight, but he didn’t know what they were. Peyton had just told him to come over. On his way to her house, he wondered what it could be. He liked surprises and hoped it was a sexy one. He knew it wasn’t sex, though he’d gladly settle for second or third base.
    Then Bret called and dropped a bomb, telling Reed it was Valentine’s Day, and going on and on about the perfect evening he’d planned for Quinn. Reed had no idea. He’d spoken to Peyton a few times during the day, and she hadn’t mentioned it. He hoped she forgot, too. Bret assured Reed that was unlikely, and if she were anything like Quinn, he’d probably be castrated for forgetting.
    Reed hung up and swerved into a florist shop. He hustled inside, only to be told they were sold out of roses. He didn’t know whether to be mad at the shop — a florist