Don't Go Baking My Heart

“You don’t like it?” She looked down at her legs, tugging at the grey material. Devon took a deep breath then released it slowly.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Well, you’re not saying much of anything. Just making sounds. No worries, I know I look good. I don’t need your validation.” She patted her thigh before looking up at him.

“Then why did you send me that bathing suit photo?”

Reba’s grin was absolutely smug. “Aww, you’re cute. That was a thirst trap. Plain and simple. C’mon, let’s get to the kitchen. You have work in the morning.”

He regretted following her as she sauntered to the kitchen. It gave him the perfect view of her ass cupped by that thin grey fabric. He couldn’t discern any panty line, which wasn’t saying much. He at least knew about seamless underwear. Although she could be wearing a thong—or nothing.

Okay, fuck no, we are not doing this. Get your shit together. Her underwear is not the focus.

The voice in his head sounded strong, confident. Devon took another deep breath to get himself under control. This shouldn’t be hard. He didn’t usually go around staring at women’s asses. Sure, he appreciated a beautiful woman when he saw her, but this level of distraction was annoying. He frowned at Reba, who was busy queuing up her playlist again. Some dance track with techno beats started playing, and Devon reached up to rub his forehead. He preferred music that was softer with a slower beat at this time of night. The perfect background sounds for relaxation with a glass of wine, but he didn’t bother to hassle her about it. The faster they got through this, the quicker Reba and her leggings could leave.

“How was your time with your niece?” she asked as he focused on mixing the batter. He had decided he was trying the cupcakes again, following her instructions on how to make them less dry.

“Leah’s great.”

“And did you give your family the cupcakes?”

Devon pursed his lips. “The cupcakes were not a hit.”

“Aww, don’t pout. Even though you look super cute doing that.”

“I do not pout.”

She pushed her lips out. “From here, this is all I see. What would you call it then?”

“Pursed lips aren’t the same as pouting.” He waved at her mouth. “I didn’t do that.”

Reba leaned against the counter, chin in her hands. “Oh, really? Please enlighten me.”

This entire conversation was ridiculous, but he could easily make a case for this silly notion, couldn’t he?

“The difference lies in the shape of the mouth and the intention. With a pout, your lips are pushed out a bit more. That’s not what I was doing. It was a slight protrusion.”

“Uh-huh.” Reba looked amused, although she didn’t seem to be buying his logic at all. “You know, if you put this much focus into your baking, you wouldn’t have dry ass cupcakes, just saying.”

“Wow, shot right to the heart,” he deadpanned, hopefully not letting on that he cared about his inability to get it perfect on the first try.

Reba swiped a finger through the batter and brought it to her lips. “Do you even have a heart, Mr. Grouch?” she teased, sucking her finger clean, and Devon definitely didn’t follow that movement.

Devon poured the batter into the cupcake liners. “You really think I’m some heartless SOB?”

“Nah.” Reba’s eyes dropped to his chest. “I think you just prefer not to show your soft, gooey centre, but it’s there. You seem the type of person who shows that through the little things you do for people rather than overt affection.”

He stared at her, brow raised. She wasn’t looking at him, eyes still fixed on his chest, smirk growing wider. Devon was picky about who he let into his space, and he certainly didn’t lavish his attention on just anyone. PDA wasn’t something he engaged in, really. He was private about his affections.

He cleared his throat when Reba still didn’t stop staring at his chest. “My eyes are up here.”

Reba took her sweet time meeting his gaze. “Oh, are they? My, what pretty brown eyes you have,” she said, batting her eyelashes in the most ridiculous way.

He walked over to the oven, ignoring her, and bent down so he could slide the cupcake tin in. Next, he had to get the frosting done. This time, he was going to focus and succeed at piping it properly. When he turned around, Reba’s eyes rose to meet his.

“Yes, I was looking at your ass,” she said as if it was totally normal to admit that.

He shook his head. “Why do you do that?” he asked, looking down at her. She had turned to face him when he’d moved towards the oven, so her back was pressed to the counter now, leaving limited space between them.