Don't Go Baking My Heart

He sighed, probably realising that arguing with her was futile. “Fine.”

“Excellent. Well, see you tonight then.”

Devon’s scowl deepened as he packed up her cupcakes then showed her to the door. At least he didn’t protest anymore. Reba called that progress.

She turned, smile firmly in place. “I promise you, this is the start of a beautiful friendship.”

“Highly doubt it. This is a working relationship only. I don’t have friends, remember?”

Reba cocked her head. “Is that so?” She laughed because he had no idea the charm she was capable of. Devon was a little tougher with that grumpy attitude of his, but Reba was a pro at this, and he was the ultimate challenge. “You’re going to learn one thing about me if you learn nothing else. I’m irresistible, and you will fall under my spell. Toodles.” She wiggled her fingers.

A noise escaped his mouth. It wasn’t quite a laugh but sounded close enough.

“See, already getting half-laughs out of you.”

“That was a scoff because you are unbelievably delusional.”

“Okay, friend,” she said, sashaying away. She would leave him to his denial, but he was going to learn real soon.

“And where exactly you goin’dressed like that?”

Reba checked her wig in the living room mirror and barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes. She didn’t have time for a lecture about rudeness and respecting her elders while also defending her style choices. Instead, she turned to her father and gave him a big smile. She hadn’t lied to Devon. Reba knew how to use her God-given assets to charm her way through life, and her father was definitely not immune to it.

He always came in hot when he thought she was doing something questionable. That didn’t last long because her smile had always gotten her out of trouble.

Turning up the wattage on her smile and throwing in some wide eyes because why the hell not, she said, “Just going out with a friend. Karaoke.”

His frown softened a fraction. “Is a costume party or what?”

“Nope.”

“So you just going like this to regular karaoke?”

She’d been rocking her pastel pink shade for far longer than any other hair colour, but tonight she had decided to shake up her look a bit with the wig she had in a deeper shade of pink. “Yes. Cute, right?” She struck a pose.

Her father hmphed, but she saw a little twitch to his lips. He would go on about her wild style and those wigs, but he couldn’t tell her anything, really. She might still be living under their roof, but she was an adult, and she contributed to the bills, so he just shook his head when she strutted out the house in one of her “get-ups,” as he liked to call it.

Her parents swore she was living in a dream world where she played someone she wasn’t every day, which, okay, sometimes Reba liked to channel a specific look—like her Sailor Moon buns from this morning at Devon’s—but her style choices were all her, too. Why her parents couldn’t see this was just how she liked to express herself and wasn’t trying to be someone else was beyond her.

But could she really blame them for not understanding her? Her parents and sister were laid-back and didn’t wear colours that were eye-searingly bright. To them, Reba was this walking anomaly they just couldn’t pin down. She had hoped after years that they would simply accept it. It was all still a work in progress.

Her phone buzzed with an incoming call because, of course, Devon couldn’t just text that he was outside like a normal person.

“I’m walking out in a sec.”

“Do people not give proper greetings on phone calls anymore?” he groused.

“Okay, Grandpa, but I know it’s you because I don’t have anyone else saved as D. King Grump.”

He sighed. “This generation is absolutely lost. Anyways, I’m outside your door.”

What? Now, why would he do that? She was quite fine walking to the car to get away from any questions her parents might have.

She turned her back on her father’s questioning gaze. “Why are you at the door? You didn’t have to do that.”

Her mother walked into the room, and alright, she had to roll out before they started tuning that parental antenna that was always on for potential prospects for their children. If they saw Devon King, though, they would realise the man was a catch—good job, had his own house, probably had a ten-year plan for his life—which would mean stability in their eyes. Something they didn’t think Reba gave a damn about.

Reba was just trying to inject some fun into Devon’s life. She didn’t want her parents trying to get him to rub off on her and be a good influence or whatever. The only rubbing off she would agree to was in a sexy way.