“We should stick to something you’ve already mastered,” he suggested, even as he couldn’t take his eyes off the screen. God, whoever had crafted this had done so with effortless precision. The damn cube was perfect.
“That sounds safe. I don’t do safe.” She turned her laptop back around to face her. “Don’t fight it, Devon. You look like you’re ready to propose to whoever made this cake. This is what we’re going with. Feel free to ask someone else for help if you’re having second thoughts.”
She shrugged, leaning back on the couch as she shot him a challenging stare. They both knew she had him. There was no one else he could ask for help. He either did what she asked, or he winged it and checked out those YouTube DIY videos, which was a no. He didn’t have time to figure this out on his own. At least with Reba on board, he had some guidance. He didn’t ponder too much on the bit of excitement that bloomed in his chest. A fucking Rubik’s Cube cake.
Devon made a big production of sighing. He couldn’t let on that his mind was racing over this cake. “Fine, we do it your way. I got ingredients for cookies and cupcakes for this morning. We can start on those.”
“We’ll get to that,” Reba said, dismissing his efforts to get up from the couch so they could head to the kitchen. “Get comfy. I need to know some things first.”
What more information could she possibly need? This baking session wasn’t going as he’d expected. There was more talking than actual baking. He should have known this would be a mistake.
Being seated next to Reba at the wedding had shown him she was a talker. Her efforts to try to draw him into conversation had been thwarted by him not responding, but that hadn’t stopped her one bit. She had kept on, carrying the conversation without his participation.
He wondered if it was too late to take his name off that cursed list. It definitely was. Dax would be disappointed, and that was the last thing he needed.
“What do you need to know that doesn’t involve my lack of baking skills?”
Reba smiled, twirling a pink strand of her hair around one finger. “When last did you actively mingle with your co-workers that wasn’t some forced work event?”
“Not this again. I don’t hang with them outside of work, really.” Why would he? He liked to keep his work and personal life separate. The few times he and Monica had attended Dax’s birthday bash and the office Christmas party, he had gotten way too many people all up in his business.
The flip side was also true. When they realised he had come solo to the last party he attended, they easily deduced he and Monica had broken up, which then led to a host of questions. He certainly hadn’t answered. It was why he had made excuses for not attending last year’s.
“A couple of them actually invited me to some outing tonight. It’s a monthly karaoke night thing, but…” He shrugged.
His only plans had been completing his latest proposal for their next project. Not what anyone would call fun, but visualising what any new building would look like for their clients was therapeutic for him.
He didn’t need some wild night out. A quiet night in suited him just fine.
“Okay, next question. Who’s your major competition for the bake-off?”
He didn’t see what one question had to do with the other but trying to understand Reba in any capacity was futile. From what he had gathered, she didn’t follow rules or patterns. “Everyone participating is.”
“Nope.” She wagged a finger at him. “Wrong. There’s always that one eager beaver in every workplace. Who is it?”
“Evan Charles,” he said. The man wasn’t a threat to his promotion directly, but his overeager personality hadn’t gone unnoticed by Dax, who always appreciated that sort of thing.
“He’s the one to beat. Is he going to be at karaoke tonight?”
“He’s the one who always organises these things, so I assume yes.” He’d never attended, but it was a safe deduction.
“And your boss will be there?”
“I don’t know for sure.” Anytime Evan tried to talk to him about anything outside of work, Devon usually gave him the brush-off.
Dax had to have something better to do on his weekend than hang with his staff, didn’t he? For larger company events, he’d more than be there, but karaoke? He might show up a few times to make Evan feel like he cared, but Devon couldn’t see him attending every night.
“Do you follow Evan on Instagram?”
Devon blinked. “No, I don’t do Instagram.”
Reba looked at him as if he’d told her he’d just committed murder. “Good Lord, you’re hopeless. Okay, no worries. I got this.”
She produced a phone from her laptop bag. The back of the phone looked like an entire bag of glitter had been spilled on it. He watched as her fingers flew over the screen before she started scrolling and making humming noises.
“Well, then. Here’s your answer. I suggest you get your ass to tonight’s karaoke.” She flipped her phone around and showed him an Instagram account.
It didn’t take long for him to deduce it belonged to Evan. The man’s face next to the board that announced the company bake-off was the first thing he saw. The caption boldly proclaimed: