Don't Go Baking My Heart

The group focused on her and started talking about what songs they wanted to do. While Evan went to give the DJ everyone’s selections, Reba checked in with Devon.

“All good?”

“How do you do that?”

“What?”

“Just talk to them as if you’ve known them forever. They like you already.” He pursed his lips, the crease between his brows one of confusion. As if he couldn’t fathom such a thing. Reba wasn’t offended. Devon just didn’t know what she was capable of. Yet.

She placed a hand on her hip. “I’m likeable. Is that so hard to believe?”

“You’re…” He waved his hand over her body. “A lot.”

Nothing she hadn’t heard before. At times, it stung—the idea that she was too much for people to handle, which wasn’t entirely a lie. They usually didn’t know what to do with her colourful energy. In her mind, it was their loss if they didn’t want to deal with any of that.

But tonight, she refused to let Devon sour her mood. He didn’t get her, and that was just fine. It wouldn’t stop her from trying to get him to loosen up.

“You say it like it’s a bad thing,” she joked. “Stick with me, kid, you’ll appreciate all of this soon enough.” She did a little wiggle, drinking in the way his eyes settled right where she wanted them.

That’s right, Mr. King. You watch those hips.

Oh yes, Reba was going to enjoy the next few weeks immensely.