Don't Go Baking My Heart

Reba

Reba was aboutto channel a sexy Black Jessica Rabbit at this swanky event, and nobody would be ready. She’d been holding on to this dress for about a year now. It wasn’t the type of attire you just strutted about in anywhere. It needed all eyes focused on it for it to really have served its purpose, which meant tonight was the night.

Trina had scoffed at her impulse purchase, claiming that she wouldn’t find a single occasion that would warrant a dress like this—which was why she sent Trina a text when she was ready, smile turned up to maximum smug levels.

Reba: you were saying???

Trina: where you going like that madam? ??

Reba: out ??

Trina: with Mr. Grouch?

Reba: ?? enjoy your night.

Trina: heffa you betta tell me!

Reba: sorry, can’t hear you over the sounds of me winning.

Getting Devon to accompany her to this wasn’t exactly a victory, but she was fine letting Trina think otherwise.

Reba went all out to achieve the look. She didn’t do things in half measure, especially when she was prepared not only to have all eyes on her but to leave Devon speechless. She gave a satisfied smile when he opened his front door and didn’t say a single word. His eyes made a thorough sweep of her from the top of her red wig all the way down her exposed leg to her shoes.

“You…” He visibly shook himself. “You won’t blend in that.”

“I only blend my makeup. You didn’t see this coming?”

He had asked her to meet at his house where she would leave her car, and they’d take his. Something about having calculated that course of action as the most feasible time-wise, based on the event’s location.

Reba didn’t care much about arriving to any event on time. Making an entrance was her style. Being on time never achieved the desired effect. But she’d agreed to just roll with his insistence that they leave at precisely eight o’clock.

“I don’t think anyone has ever seen you coming, Reba.”

Oh, the unintended double entendre she could have fun with there. Instead, she chose to behave herself, just this once. She stepped back as he locked the door and led her down the driveway, his blazer slung over his arm. Reba took the opportunity to take a peek at his ass in those pants. The tailored black pants weren’t winning any most creative fashion awards, but Devon’s behind was working overtime there. She drank in the flex of his back muscles in his white shirt.

He opened the car door, looking back at her just when she pressed her teeth into her bottom lip and whispered, “Damn.”

Yeah, she got caught staring at him, but when had she ever cared about that? “You’re not wrong about that,” she replied to his earlier statement. “So you like it?” She placed her hands on her hips, letting Devon enjoy the visual.

They would look so good together. If only she could convince him to take a photo with her.

The intriguing tic in his jaw was working overtime as he stood waiting for her to get in the car. At this angle, he was definitely getting a perfect view of her cleavage. She had slathered her entire body in the free lotion she had gotten from the shoot, which left behind a subtle glittery glow. Devon might not like glitter, but he had to appreciate how her skin was popping tonight. She’d left her neck bare of any jewellery, the shimmer of her dress speaking for itself. Besides, she didn’t want anything to interrupt the visual of all her brown skin on display.

“Yes.”

Simple, yet oh so effective. She smiled and rummaged around in her bag until she found her phone.

“Can you get a pic of me? Your lighting out here is perfect.”

He looked down at the phone she thrust into his hands while Reba posed so he could catch her at a side angle, her red hair spilling over one shoulder, the other left bare.

He took a single photo, ready to hand her back her phone.

“You need to get more than that. C’mon. Three, at least.”

“Why do you need three when the first one is already perfect?” he said, deadpan as ever. Anyone else delivering that line, she would say they were flirting. Devon was dead serious. Not a single smile nor smirk in sight.

She hadn’t been prepared for that compliment, so she drank it up like the thirsty praise ho she was. There was just something about a genuine compliment that got her hot and bothered, more so than physical touch sometimes. She was confident in what she had to offer, yet it never hurt to have someone verify that.