Don't Go Baking My Heart

Devon

The cookiesin his hands felt like a bright beacon telling everyone to look directly at him as he walked into the office at his usual time on Monday. Even though he had them in a nondescript brown handle bag, he was sure everyone would know something was off.

Devon didn’t usually break patterns, was strict about certain things. He came in before eight, wore his usual suit, came in with his leather bag, and didn’t usually have anything extra on him. In his mind, Corinne was eyeing that bag with curiosity when she called out her typical cheerful, “Morning!”

But that was just his sleep-deprived brain messing with him. No one was looking at him funny as he made his way to the kitchen to quietly drop the cookies off. The kitchen was thankfully empty, but he needed to move quickly. He removed the simple plastic container from the bag. Reba hadn’t had time to fancy it up as she’d wanted to. Fine by him—no glitter to get on his hands.

The note he’d placed on top was self-explanatory:

BUTTER COOKIES. PLEASE TAKE ONE.

He would silently listen out for comments from his co-workers later. A huge yawn escaped as he pondered if to leave the cookies near the fridge. Most people liked to put their lunch in there and would easily see the container when they came in.

He’d hoped his cold shower would make him a bit more alert this morning, but that didn’t seem to be the case. He’d gotten home after the amusement park with grand plans to shower and go right to bed. Instead, he’d found himself thoroughly cleaning out the guest room since he hadn’t managed it after the baking session or before he needed to leave to meet his family and Reba.

He couldn’t allow another moment to go by without ridding the room of her scent and presence somehow. She’d wanted to come home with him after to finish what they’d started behind that tent. Her intentions had been quite clear. The heated looks. The accidental, seemingly casual touches. The not at all subtle emojis he’d discovered when he’d checked his phone while waiting at the food stall. The amount of tongue emojis followed by water droplets and eggplants were excessive and explicit. But he’d needed to clear his head, had acted as if her message had gotten lost in translation.

Her friend Trina had also been watching like a hawk, narrowed eyes moving between them, curious and speculative. So Reba had been honest. She hadn’t told her friends about the sex because this woman had been on high alert trying to decode whatever was going on between them.

Going home alone had seemed like the best idea. Except, right then—and now, if he was being honest—his mind had been foggy with thoughts of Reba.

He’d even found her panties under the bed in a crumpled heap, but not her shorts, the thing a goddamn reminder of everything they had done on that bed. Clearly, Reba had missed it in her haste to leave. He’d texted her right away about it even though it had been late. She hadn’t replied until much later this morning.

Devon: I found your underwear under the bed.

Reba: oh. Morning ?? Must have missed that. They’re my lucky pair. I’ll let you know when I can come get them ??

Devon: Ok

Short and to the point. He refused to think about her lying in her bed, looking all soft and sexy as she replied to him. He’d tossed his phone on the bed and begun his morning routine—which now included quickly washing her underwear and letting it dry.

If he was smart, he would meet her in a public place to make the exchange. He didn’t think even Reba would try to have sex with him atop a café table in the middle of the day. But the thought of handing over her underwear in a space like that had him overthinking all the potential awkward possibilities. Reba, being her unpredictable self, could pull the thing out from the totally normal bag he would put it in and start waving it around. He could at least control and minimise what would happen in the safety of his own home.

“Are those cookies?”

The query startled him. Devon stepped away from the counter. “Looks like it.”

Sharlene, one of the other Project Managers’ interns, came over to peer into the container, lunch bowl in hand. “Huh, no name on it.”

“Guess it’s for anyone to take. There’s a note.” Devon walked out of the kitchen before she could start asking him more questions.

His plan was to quietly smuggle in some pieces of the marble cake tomorrow. It meant he’d have to be earlier than Sharlene so she wouldn’t find him near it again. It wouldn’t take much for her to wonder if he had baked the treats. He was supposed to be incognito with this endeavour.

The encounter made him wonder if he should abandon the cake drop-off. It had turned out fine after his initial stumbles. Reba had given him a gold star sticker and everything. That she had suddenly pulled the sticker pack out of her bag, peeled one off, and planted it on his chest had surprised him. She’d taken too long rubbing the damn sticker in place, claiming she was simply ensuring that it stayed on. Her smirk had suggested otherwise.

He’d been trying to get her to stay before his mother had come along but had soon realised this thing pulsing through his veins urging him to fuck her in his kitchen was not conducive to having a peaceful time, so he hadn’t pushed it further. If he gave Reba an inch, she would take a whole dirty mile.

Back at his desk, he pulled up the proposal they would be showing the client next week, the first week in September. The resort and spa they were pitching would be in line with the eco-friendly slant the client was set on. The proposal took the location into consideration, ensuring that the building would work in conjunction with the nature that surrounded it. Like the perfect Sanctuary. In fact, that was the project code name Devon had come up with.

He was excited about this one and might have been putting in more hours than was feasible to come up with the best presentation. The resort would include all the luxuries guests could expect from such a place with the calming effects of the flora and fauna. The structure would fully look like it had sprung up right in the midst of the greenery itself. At least that was Devon’s plan. Now, if only he could sort out this ridiculous situation with Vic. They were so close to making this perfect.

With Reba in his space, he hadn’t been able to focus on his approach there. It would be awkward, and Devon didn’t want to deal with this shit.

Not now when he was getting random flashes of smooth brown skin and Reba’s voice in his ear as she…

Okay, no. He could not do this here.

He might not want to deal with Vic, but he had to set up a meeting regardless. Vic’s personal shit couldn’t jeopardise this project. Devon had wanted to replace him immediately, but he had to at least talk to the man since he had been working on this from the beginning. Handing it over to someone else to take over at this late stage didn’t sit right with him.