Don't Go Baking My Heart

Devon

The vibrationof his cell was driving Devon up a wall. He should have known better than to actually text Reba. He should have said he would email or something. The woman didn’t understand that she didn’t need to start up an entire conversation in response to the schedule he had sent. He didn’t have time to indulge her on this remarkably busy Friday morning.

Besides, didn’t she say she was busy planning for her weekend getaway? Not that he’d asked for details. She had offered up all the inane bits of information on her own.

Reba: next weekend to begin operation bake-off is fine with me

Reba: hmm, come ready with your proposal. If it’s trash I’ll tell you so

Reba: wait…do you have baking equipment? Would I need to bring stuff? Have you even used the kitchen in your new place? Send me a pic so I know what we’re working with

Devon: I’m at work.

Reba: so you don’t have random pics of your house. Got it. Ooh I need your opinion on something. I’m packing for my beach trip. I feel like you’d be brutally honest. What do you think of this??

She had sent him a photo of a scrap of fabric with gift boxes printed on it. He didn’t know what the hell he was looking at. He shouldn’t reply. He didn’t need to at this point. He had done his part and sent her the schedule he had worked out for them.

They would meet up from next week Saturday. He had already rearranged his schedule to fit her in early. There was no need to continue this pointless discussion. She was already cutting into his weekend time which he also used to work on some projects. He didn’t need to devote a single minute more to Reba Johnson.

And yet, he was curious.

Devon: What am I looking at?

Reba: it’s a bathing suit obviously.

Devon: Is it?

Reba: yes. Hang on.

She didn’t respond for a few minutes, which gave him some time to read an email Amanda had sent about the Bake-Off. It reiterated everything Dax had said at the meeting on Monday. The theme was Game On. The rules were outlined, and the judging criteria were clearly laid out. Staff who were taking part were encouraged to upload their in-progress video diaries to the specified folder.

Now, of course, there were numerous staff members responding to Amanda by hitting reply all because he had emails coming in fast and furious. He was going to have to create a separate folder for this as well. How did they not know they didn’t have to reply all? Was he going to have to ask HR to conduct a session on email etiquette? This was ridiculous.

His phone dinged, and Devon checked Reba’s latest message. Fucking hell, had she really…

Reba: here, this should clear up any confusion. Bathing suit. See?? ??

He saw indeed. Too much. Skin. So much smooth, rich brown skin in that scrap of almost non-existent fabric. Her body was turned slightly to the side, which gave Devon a glimpse of the curve of her ass cheek. This bathing suit didn’t have much in the way of ass coverage. He blinked at the pink hibiscus tattoo that was a splash of vibrant colour on her hip.

Reba: well? Too much? Would the beach ppl be scandalised you think?

Devon: Yes

Reba: excellent. My ass is the gift that keeps on giving so…into the bag it goes!

Reba was absolutely too much. Of course, she would want to strut up and down the beach with her ass out for the world to see. Why she even needed his opinion, to begin with, he didn’t know. Maybe she hadn’t really cared about what he had to say but more about the shock value.

It would be just like her to send him this on a Friday morning while he was at work just because she could. Just to disrupt him. Because here he, was still staring at that curve instead of chucking his phone in his drawer and ignoring her.

His work phone rang, and Devon almost knocked the receiver off his desk, fumbling to answer. No one would know he was staring at a scantily clad woman on his phone, and yet his heart rate immediately escalated before he told himself to get his shit together.

“Hi, Mr. King. I have your mother here to see you,” the receptionist chirped.

“What?” Why in the world was his mother here? He wasn’t expecting any visitors today, least of all his mother. Not during the day like this. She should be at her dental practice.

This day was going off the rails, one unexpected thing at a time. He glanced at his cell phone, shook his head, and replied to Corinne.

“Send her in.”