Don't Go Baking My Heart

Reba

She didn’t remember fallingasleep. So, when the light nudge came on her arm, she opened her eyes, totally disoriented, eyes sweeping from Devon to out the car window. She squinted at his driveway. When had they gotten here?

“Oh.”

He took off his seatbelt. “You knocked out while I was talking about Ambard’s House. Guess I bored you to sleep.”

Reba shook her head, trying to shed the remnants of sleep, not that it worked. She felt too tired, not awake enough to drive back home. She pressed her head back against the seat, letting a long yawn escape.

“Think I need at least an hour more.” She snuggled into the car seat.

“Hey, you can’t just keep sleeping here.”

She raised her palm. “Five more minutes, please. Can’t drive yet. Sleepy.” Her words were punctuated by another lengthy yawn.

She remembered begging Devon to show her Ambard’s House after they had decided it was time to leave the exhibit. Or rather, he decided. Reba could have gone on until they were literally told to leave. Not that she was so immersed in the exhibit itself, but the people-watching was intriguing.

Even though Sweethand catered to a range of clients, she didn’t usually rub shoulders with this group of people. It had been fun to recognise some familiar celebrities who she was certain only came to be seen and didn’t give a damn about the photos and paintings on display—though she wasn’t judging them. She would have done the same thing.

But Ambard’s House had caught her eye. It looked like a pretty dollhouse in the photo, and she didn’t want to miss the opportunity to see it up close. It was walking distance from Stollmeyer’s, and because Devon was a giant nerd, he hadn’t balked too much at her insisting.

She had peered over the wall at the house while Devon had talked about the structure. He’d continued talking about it while back in the car, she supposed. She had no idea when she had dozed off exactly.

Devon sighed. “Reba, I’ll take you home if you like. You can get your car in the morning.”

She cracked her eye open, tilted her head his way. “You’re tired too.”

“I’m fine,” he said just as he released a jaw-cracking yawn. His annoyed expression was too funny to keep her laughter in. Devon liked control, but a yawn was going to bust out whenever it wanted to.

“See?” She took off her seatbelt. “Let’s nap for an hour. Then I’ll be good to drive.”

“We’re not taking a nap in my driveway.”

She pressed her hands under her cheek. “Well, invite me in then. I have my baddess bag on standby. I can get a quick change of clothes to nap in. This dress is great but not made for sleeping. I’ll set an alarm. Look at me having a plan and everything.”

“What the hell is a baddess bag?”

“Various purposes, but in case I need a change of clothes for whatever reason. Also for pre- and post-sexy times,” she said.

She had been accumulating things for this bag for years now. As much as she hated planning—when it didn’t apply to Sweethand stuff—this was one of the things she had been consistent with.

“You have a bag in your car? For that?”

Reba grinned. “Of course. I got condoms, fresh undies, and casual clothes in there too. There’s also granola bars. Some other stuff.” One item, in particular, she didn’t think he wanted to know about. Glittery and useful for when she was feeling extra adventurous.

Devon’s brows raised.

“I need to refuel after vigorous activities.” She winked. “And I don’t stay long enough to get fed most times, so baddess bag. Some people think that’s what I am, and I might as well own it.”

“Smart to be prepared, I suppose,” he grudgingly agreed. “It’s a good plan, actually. I should probably keep a bag in my car too. Just for the change of clothes, I mean,” he added as if she would judge him for having his own baddess bag.

She’d figured Devon didn’t do spontaneous sex, but life did have a way of throwing curveballs. Reba made sure she restocked those condoms regularly, even if she wasn’t using them all the time.

“I’m shocked you don’t already. What do you do if you mess up your clothes?”

“I don’t.”

Of course, he would say that. God forbid Devon did something like accidentally have ketchup fall on his shirt, like the rest of the mere mortals around. “So, can I take a small nap before hitting the road? I can just stay on the couch.”