Don't Go Baking My Heart

The condescending tone grated against Devon’s ears. Reba simply smiled. “I’m not, but I do know people.” She left it at that, saying nothing more as she reached for the kebab on her plate.

“Ah yes, well. Of course, you do.” Solomon watched Reba as she took a bite of whatever meat was on the wooden skewer.

Devon’s hand curled into a fist at his side. It would be a bad idea to punch out a board member for staring at Reba’s lips. He was swiftly getting on Devon’s nerves, which meant it was best to remove himself from Solomon’s space.

“Well, we should continue looking at the exhibit,” he suggested.

“It was lovely meeting your friend.” Solomon looked ready to reach for Reba’s hand again, but she waved her kebab, showing that both hands were full.

Solomon dropped his hand and left.

“That’s who you’re trying to impress into a promotion?” Reba’s nose wrinkled. “He gives off gross old man vibes.”

“I don’t want to have to impress him at all. He doesn’t even like me and expects that I’ll suck up to him. I’d rather have the glitter bomb delivery, to be honest.”

“Why doesn’t he like you? He thinks you’re gunning for his job or what?”

“I could care less about being on that board. Principal is my goal, and he doesn’t want to see me there for some reason.”

“Principal? That’s like a top-level position?”

Devon nodded. “Yes, it’s like a Partner of the firm. Dax has hinted at grooming me for one of those positions, but a few board members, Solomon especially, don’t seem to agree with that. Apparently, I don’t grovel enough for their liking.”

“You’re definitely not the grovelling type,” Reba pointed out.

“You’re right, but…” Was he actually going to say this? He sighed.

He’d been working his ass off all this time with great results. The route to Principal seemed to have some obstacles in the form of assholes like Solomon, which made things tricky. It meant all his good work wouldn’t mean a damn if one of the people who had a say in his promotion simply didn’t like him.

The bake-off was merely one tactic. Devon didn’t believe in leaving anything to chance. He had to cover all his bases.

“But,” he tried again. “Maybe I do need you to coach me on being more likeable, so these assholes will change their minds.”

Reba paused with her last kebab halfway to her lips. “Well, this has to be my lucky night. You’re admitting you need me for more than baking?”

“Let’s not get too carried away. Thinking on this and calculating the probabilities of this situation going my way with just participating in the bake-off, I’ve concluded that you could be useful in other areas.”

“That’s a whole roundabout way of saying I was right.” She finished off her kebab, flagged down one of the passing servers and snatched up a glass of wine, pointing at him to take one from the tray. “We need to toast to this!”

“We really don’t.” Reba wasn’t paying his protests any mind. She balanced her glass on her plate and picked up another one, shoving it in his hand. He only took it to avoid the thing falling and causing a scene.

Reba grinned up at him. “Come on, say it. ‘You were right, Reba.’”

He ground his teeth together, refusing. Telling her she was correct all along meant admitting he was wrong. He didn’t like that one bit.

She picked up her glass, waving it around, the golden liquid inside sloshing about. “Do iiit,” she taunted.

“Fine. It’s between us.” He tapped his glass against hers and took a sip of wine. Just the right amount of sweet. He preferred red wine when he allowed himself to indulge, but this would do.

“Of course. Our little secret.” She winked, tossing back the wine like juice. “Now, take me around and nerd out with me some more.”

“I thought you wanted me to find someone who would be into this stuff to converse with.” He hadn’t seen Dax yet. He could strike up a conversation with any of the other guests who could be in his field or simply have an interest in architecture. He wasn’t inclined to engage in small talk at the moment, though.

If it was up to him, he would wander around, drink everything in, and talk to no one. He didn’t have a problem attending things like this alone. He had done so in the past after he’d imploded his relationship with Monica and his few friendships.

Reba placed the empty glass and plate on a nearby table, brown eyes gleaming. “I changed my mind. Tonight, you’re all mine. We’re going to learn a lot.” She slid her fingertips along his cheek, running her hand along his beard. “So soft.”

His hand twitched with the urge to grasp onto her wrist and stall her movements. He forced himself to remain unmoving. It was becoming a habit of his, capturing her wrist. The last time he hadn’t wanted to let go, for some inane reason he couldn’t imagine. The hand on his face felt…not unpleasant too.