Don't Go Baking My Heart

Reba

Reba pridedherself on being professional. Most days. Well, she made an attempt simply because she liked her current boss. Her varying hair colour choices weren’t seen as professional by some. Before she started working with Cherisse, she had ventured into the corporate world. Big mistake, and so not for her, but the need to ensure her independence, even while living with her parents, did add a level of desperation at times.

Plus, all her fun clothes and wigs weren’t going to suddenly appear without money.

Those corporate jobs had placed so many restrictions on the staff that had her itching to leave many times until she had finally decided enough was enough. Besides, most of the execs had acted as if being an assistant meant they could treat her like shit. She had grown tired of the disrespect, emailed her resignation, and never returned.

She hadn’t minded burning that entire bridge down because she didn’t plan to go back ever. Leaving that place had been her best decision to date. She didn’t have to give a damn what those people thought anymore. Cherisse didn’t have an issue. Reba could wear a damn rainbow on her head for all her boss cared.

But she lost herself for a moment when the text came in and blurted out, “Oh, shit.”

Reba fumbled her phone, nearly sending it skating across the floor towards the pool. She caught it before it went anywhere near the ground or water, heart pounding. That phone was her life and how she kept track of everything for her job. The death by watery grave would have had her in tears. She would have had to slash her makeup and hair budgets to buy a new one. A sobering thought.

Cherisse glanced over at her. Boss lady was walking around the other side of the pool with their latest client, who was busy gushing about how she wanted the dessert set-up to look. The client had a massive thirtieth birthday party planned for this weekend, and they were finalising everything.

This bougie ass woman wanted some next-level triple-tiered cake that defied gravity or some shit. Cherisse had been trying to tell her for the past fifteen minutes that maybe she should try some less “accident waiting to happen” options, especially since this woman had children who would be running around at the party. But she wasn’t hearing it.

Rich people were weird like that. Reba supposed a cake that would cost a cool couple thousand dollars wasn’t a big deal for this lady. Ah, to be rich and wanting what you wanted, regardless of knowing there was potential destruction in the item’s future. Must be nice.

Either way, Reba was lucky the client didn’t hear her curse or was ignoring it. Hell, the woman probably didn’t even remember Reba was there. She was used to these types ignoring the assistant because, of course, Reba didn’t matter to them. Cherisse was the focus.

Reba grinned at Cherisse and mouthed a ‘sorry’ before looking back down at the text she’d gotten from Devon King.

He’d actually replied. After two months of sending him memes and videos just because she could without any reply, she didn’t know what to make of this.

Reba: they’re being cats obviously.

Devon: I don’t know what that means.

Reba: cats gonna cat, Devon. don’t you see how they’re just casually pushing stuff off the desk? it’s such a cat thing to do.

Devon: And this is funny why?

Reba rolled her eyes. Of course, Mr. Super Serious wouldn’t get it. The ringtone she’d set for Devon blared from her phone, and she almost dropped the damn thing again. He was actually calling her? What the hell? Who did that? Actually called a person on the phone?

Devon King, obviously. Reba shouldn’t be surprised. He didn’t seem like much of a texter, and in the meagre interaction they’d had at the wedding, he had behaved like a crotchety old man. A shame, really, because Devon King was way too fine to be acting like he was ready to settle into a rocking chair and shake his fist at children who dared venture onto his lawn.

She hadn’t seen the man since Ava’s wedding, but Reba wasn’t about to forget that tall, lovely drink of water. That perfectly coiffed beard that looked like her next favourite seat was the stuff of dreams. She remembered how it framed his lush lips perfectly. Mmm, she wondered if he still sported it?

Focus, woman, he’s actually calling you after leaving you on read all this time. This is a damn miracle.

She wasn’t too keen on phone calls. She loved interacting with people, but face-to-face was where she shone. Reba preferred texting otherwise. Gifs and memes were life. Of course, she had to speak on her phone for work, but Devon King wasn’t a client.

“What the hell are you doing?” she demanded, glancing over at Cherisse. She was still too focused on the client to notice Reba on the phone.

“Hello, Reba.”

She felt that deep baritone all the way to her soul and other more inconvenient parts of her body. Like between her legs. How dare his voice be this deep and sexy? Shit, were her nipples hard? She was actually wearing a bra, so it wouldn’t be too obvious, but one could never be too careful because damn, that voice could make even the strongest padded bra useless.

“Hello, are you there?”

Right, Serious and Sexy had called her for some unknown reason. “I’m busy. To what do I owe this stunning event of you actually calling me after acting like I didn’t exist all this time?”

“I’m in a bit of a predicament and need your help.”

Reba checked the date on her phone. Okay, still August 2018. She looked up—nothing seemed off. So, she hadn’t been catapulted into some weird dimension where Devon needed her for anything to the point where he was willingly calling her. What could he possibly want from her? Devon had made it clear he had no desire to communicate with her beyond them being stuck at the same table at the wedding. Not that Reba cared. She excelled at filling silence. His frown the entire time hadn’t deterred her.

Reba loved challenges, and Devon certainly fell into that category. The way his eyes had swept her pastel pink hair and tight silver dress had immediately sent the message that he disapproved. Nothing Reba hadn’t experienced before. It had only been more satisfying when she’d gotten his number from his brother. Keiran had been amused by Reba’s antics, so she had, with his blessing, been sending Devon random videos ever since. He hadn’t blocked her yet, so she supposed he wasn’t too bothered by her randomly messaging him.