Don't Go Baking My Heart

He found them chatting about the potential party. A safe-ish topic, thank God.

“He emerges. So fresh and so clean,” Reba said from the larger couch, which meant he had to sit next to her. It would look strange if he remained standing.

He chose the spot farthest away from her, on the other end of the couch. That’s what normal Devon would do. His mother would expect that. He respected personal space, and besides, he and Reba had a professional relationship. But even with the space between them, she was too radiant in that yellow dress. His eyes kept landing on the little bows that kept her straps up.

If his mother hadn’t shown up, he could have easily tugged on one of those dangling strings and bared everything to his hungry gaze.

Do you really want to be thinking these thoughts with your mother right there?

Shit, he was a mess.

“So your mom was telling me about this housewarming idea. Sounds like fun.”

Devon turned away from Reba and narrowed his eyes at his mother. “I haven’t agreed to any party.”

She shrugged. “Not officially, but I promise you won’t have to do anything. I’ll sort out the food and clean up after. I’ll even play host. Just give me your guest list.”

“Why is any of this necessary?”

“Blessing your new space is important, and why not make it a celebration? Owning a home is an amazing thing.”

It was and had been on his list of goals for some time. Yet, he didn’t want a bunch of people all up in his space. Even if his mother was taking charge of everything, which meant he could hide out in his room.

“It’ll be a good chance to test out your baking skills, too,” Reba piped up.

He glared in her direction. “I’m already doing that with the cookies on Monday.”

“Cookies?” his mother asked. “I can’t believe you’re actually baking. What is all this for? And no offense to Reba, but why didn’t you come to me?”

Devon sighed. This was why he didn’t want to talk about any of this. The questions. The teasing. He wasn’t in the mood.

His mother crossed her arms. “And I hope she isn’t doing this for free? I’ve raised you all to not sell yourselves short, and I hope you wouldn’t do the same to someone else.”

“Can we just not?” Devon rubbed his forehead. “Of course, I’m paying her.”

“He’s been very good to me, Ms. King. No worries.” That goddamn teasing tone would be the death of him.

He kept his gaze on his mother, who was waiting patiently for him to give in. Devon didn’t give up that easily, but his mother was tenacious.

“Fine.” He raised his palm before his mother could get too excited. “No co-workers. No neighbours. Just family. A small gathering. Get your priest to do his thing, and when I’m ready to shut it all down, I don’t want to hear anything about me being a party pooper.”

“You should invite at least some neighbours. And your friends,” his mother added. “Don’t think I don’t realise you’ve been neglecting them. Working towards something is great, but don’t alienate the people who care about you while on your path to greatness. I can work with next week Saturday for the party. It’s Independence weekend, after all. Give me the names and emails, I’ll send out e-vites on your behalf. Maxi will help me with the graphics and stuff. You can let me know what foods and drinks you want.”

The neighbours were easier than the friends part. If he reached out to the friends he hadn’t spoken to in almost a year, would they even want to hear from him?

“Make sure Reba’s on that list too,” his mother added. “She can help with your baking efforts.”

Reba grinned. “I wouldn’t miss a party for anything. I can help with the set-up too. And with Keiran on vacation, we’ll need a DJ. I know a guy.”

“Excellent. Keep her around. It’s important to know people with the right connections. Plus, she’s fun. I hope some of that rubs off on you.” His mother winked, and Devon realised Reba had gotten yet another person to fall under her spell.

Reba beamed over at his mother, obviously delighted with this entire turn of events. Was there a single person she couldn’t win over? He had thought he was stronger than this. Obviously not, since he was currently wondering how soon his mother would leave so they could pick up where they left off. Those damn strings on her dress kept appearing in his sightline.

His mother’s phone rang. She pulled it out of her bag and smiled down at the screen before getting to her feet. “Excuse me a sec,” she said before moving into the kitchen.

Reba smoothed her dress over her legs. It didn’t quite cover her thighs, and Devon’s eyes flickered over the tiny scar above her right knee.

“Why’re you pushing to help with this party? You know a guy? A DJ isn’t necessary.”