Don't Go Baking My Heart

“I just refuse to waste time that could be spent on work. Besides, the key denominator in all of that is Evan,” he admitted because Kim knew he couldn’t stand the man for his unnatural constant office cheer.

His cell phone chimed as Kim continued to tease him. He briefly glanced at the notification on his screen, rolling his eyes as he saw the familiar name. Another meme from Reba Johnson.

There’s another option.

No. Absolutely not.

Thatwas the worst idea. Possibly more so than Evan.

Reba Johnson gave off too much chaos vibes.

He’d met her at Cherisse’s sister’s wedding in June, where Cherisse had been the maid of honour and Keiran the best man. The wedding reception had been the first and last time he’d been face-to-face with Reba. She had inundated him with chatter while he’d listened, sort of. She’d also enlisted Keiran’s help with putting her number in his phone while he had gone to the bathroom. He definitely hadn’t saved anyone in his phone under the name Pretty in Pink. The tiny profile picture at the top only showed the back of someone’s cotton candy pink hair, but Devon just knew it was Reba. She was the only person he had ever met with hair that colour.

Keiran had also shared Devon’s number with Reba—apparently because his brother found the entire thing hilarious. Devon mostly ignored the ridiculous memes from the first moment the messages had started popping up.

“Anyhoo, don’t burn your house down trying to butter up to Dax with this.”

Devon shook his head as Kim rang off. He didn’t have to worry about this. Cherisse would help him, and he would just have to swear Keiran to secrecy since he expected her to inform him. Their relationship was new, so asking her to lie wasn’t ideal. Reba wasn’t an option he should entertain when Cherisse was available. From their short meeting, it was clear that he and Reba would get on like oil and water—so, not at all.

He realised he didn’t actually have Cherisse’s number, but a quick call to his brother would fix that oversight.

“Yeah?”

Devon frowned at Keiran’s rude greeting. “Is that how you answer your phone?”

“I know it’s you, D. The days of rotary phones and guessing who’s calling are over.”

“Still, you should always give a proper greeting regardless. Just in case.”

Keiran sighed. “Is there a point to this? I’m busy.”

Of course. Keiran was a bit of a workaholic like Devon, although he knew for a fact his brother made time for his girlfriend. Unfortunately, their mother gushed about how cute the two were to Devon all the time as if that was something he cared about. He was happy for Keiran, but Devon didn’t delve into his sibling’s private life. It wasn’t his business, and his mother’s updates every time they spoke were too much.

It also led to questioning him about when he was going to settle down. His reply had been the same since his last relationship had ended: he was working on it.

He was being careful about it since everything he’d thought he was going to have with Monica hadn’t quite panned out. She’d accused him of seeing her as just another thing to check off on his life goals list.

That hadn’t been true. He’d cared for Monica, and they were compatible. He’d even been shopping around for rings. Her getting upset over finding his risk analysis of their relationship had been irrational at best, which had been so unlike her. Monica was calm, usually, until she’d found that list and freaked out.

Perhaps it had been for the best. They weren’t meant to be. So, he’d had to uncheck that box. He didn’t need or want drama in his life.

“I need Cherisse’s number, please. I’d like to hire her for something.”

“Hmm, what something?”

Devon rolled his eyes. He didn’t have time for Keiran to suddenly adopt the role of jealous boyfriend, and he also didn’t want to admit right away why he needed Cherisse’s help. Knowing Keiran, he’d just laugh his ass off and annoy Devon further. “I’m not trying to steal your girlfriend or anything like that.”

Keiran busted out laughing. “Devon, buddy, I’m in no way worried about that. You are definitely not Cherisse’s type.”

“Why not?” It was ridiculous to even ask, but Keiran was practically choking with laughter. Devon didn’t appreciate it.

He was a good-looking man—he got told that enough—had a good job with room to go further up the organisation, a home that was all his own. He would be considered a catch.

“You’d bore her to tears. You’re too stoic, and, I don’t know, you’re not me.”

“Well, I’m glad to see your confidence is at an all-time high, but can you just give me her number? It’s an important work thing.”

“I’ll text it to you. Bye, D.”