Don't Go Baking My Heart

Reba

Zoomingin on Devon’s scrunched-up face as he sampled his own cupcake almost made Reba drop her phone. She really had to get a better grip on the thing when she was around Devon. She was laughing so hard.

“Why is it so dry? It doesn’t taste like yours at all. And the icing looks like a shitty blob. Why does mine not look like yours?”

“Can you curse in these diaries?”

Devon looked over at her, the ever-present crease between his brows growing deeper. “I didn’t even know you were filming still.”

“I’ll bleep it out, don’t worry.”

He had tried his best at the icing stage, but Reba had to agree, his looked an entire lopsided mess. To be honest, she hadn’t expected much in the appearance of the cupcakes, but she’d hoped at least the cake itself would be tasty. Then again, Devon had that perfectionist personality. The cupcake couldn’t be that terrible.

“Let me be the judge.” She reached to pick up one of his cupcakes and took a bite. Oh, dear. He was right on the dry front. “Did you put the oil like I said? To make it moist?

“Oil? I thought the recipe said butter?”

“Yeah, it did, but I told you subbing oil would make it moister.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Were you even listening to me at all?”

He picked at one of the cupcake liners, not meeting her gaze. “Well, yes, mostly.”

“Mostly? Well, mostly got you dry ass cupcakes.”

Devon pushed the cupcake away like it personally offended him. She supposed it had. Reba didn’t do a lot of baking tutorials—although it was something she was considering on a larger scale as an additional source of income—but it didn’t take a genius to see that Devon had thought all this would be easy-peasy.

“I was a little distracted,” he admitted. “I have a big work thing coming up, and…”

Reba cut him off with a raise of her hand. “You can’t be distracted while baking. That’s how messes happen. That’s rule number one.”

Devon picked up his half-eaten cupcake, placing it back on the tray with its other sorry-looking siblings. “Didn’t take you for rules.”

“Yeah, I’m not much for them in general, but when heat and ovens are involved? I don’t mess around. When you’re practicing without me here, you’re gonna daydream about work and forget you have stuff in the oven? Not a good idea.”

Devon stared at her, a muscle jumping in his jaw. “Okay, you’re right. It won’t happen again.” He looked down at the cupcakes. “What do I do with these?”

“Well, I’ll take some of mine. You can give away the rest to your family or co-workers. Or eat them. Baker’s choice.”

“I don’t think mine are fit for anyone else to consume.”

“Don’t you dare throw them away. That’s another rule. Unless something is truly inedible, you don’t waste. Eat them, or give them to your fam. You don’t have to say you made them.”

“That might be a little cruel, considering.”

Alright, he was being too harsh. The cupcakes wouldn’t be winning any awards, but they weren’t that terrible. “And I thought I was dramatic.”

“I don’t do drama.”

Of course, he didn’t think so. Men always got this notion that only women were given to what they like to call “hysterics.” Devon didn’t quite look like he was about to dissolve into tears or anything—she wondered if his tear ducts even worked—and the expression on his face wasn’t complete dejection either, but he didn’t look pleased. For someone like him, he would consider this failure. He had obviously expected to get it right on the first try.

“Hey, look. I burnt my first attempt at cookies. The next set spread together and looked like blobs. You can only get better from here.”

“How can I do a Rubik’s Cube-shaped cake if I can’t even make a proper cupcake?”

“You listen to your teacher. On all fronts,” she added. “Which means pack away the cupcakes and figure out your outfit for tonight. Pick me up at seven. I’ll WhatsApp my address.”

Devon went over to his cupboard to pull down a plastic container. “It’s easier to meet me here and leave your car, so we’ll take mine, considering the location of the karaoke place.”

“You already don’t want to do this. I’m not driving all this way to have you refuse to come out your house. I’ve got many talents but breaking and entering isn’t one of them. So, you’re picking me up. I’ll be ready at seven.”