She swept into the kitchen, annoyed at that damn voice and herself. She was letting Cherisse get into her head. None of this mattered. Damn wine. She needed to get something to eat. Then, she would sort out what to do when Devon came back down.

“Oh, it’s you.”

The voice made her stop in her tracks. She hadn’t even noticed the woman in the kitchen when she’d stormed in. She didn’t recognise her, but she liked her casual partywear of white jeans, nude heels, and a black top. Her hair was pulled back in a slick ponytail. She looked cute and classy.

Reba squinted. Her head was getting a little fuzzy, but she was certain she had never met this woman. “Uh, do I know you?”

“Oh no, sorry, you don’t. I saw you with Devon earlier. Do you know where he is? I’ve been looking, but it would be weird to just walk into the house like this.” She gave a small laugh. “We haven’t spoken in ages. I love your hair, by the way.”

“And you are?” she asked, already knowing—because as far as signs went, this one was a whole ass siren going off in her face—but needing it said. She wasn’t about to be rude to this woman, but what were the chances after overhearing that conversation?

“I’m Joya.”

“Right, yes. Of course.”

“Um, so do you know where he is by chance?”

“He’s inside. I’m sure he’ll come out eventually.” She spied a bottle with a label that said Pommerac Wine.

Don’t you even think about it…

“Shush.”

Joya’s smile slipped. “I’m sorry?”

“That wasn’t directed at you.”

Adding homemade wine on top of the Moscato she had consumed was a terrible idea, but wasn’t that her thing? Bad ideas and not thinking shit through? Like jumping into sex with Devon, which had been a sexy good time but had definitely had an expiry date. She hadn’t expected it to be this soon, though.

Joya was eyeing her like she wanted to back away. She didn’t blame her—great instincts on that one. Reba was feeling a bit feral all of a sudden. It wouldn’t be fair to lash out at this very nice woman who had probably just innocently come to this party to reconnect with an old sweetheart.

She giggled at that, thinking of Devon as a sweetheart. He was, even though he would never refer to himself like that. He would scrunch up his face if she ever called him that, but he was. Writing love notes and shit. Cute. Joya herself probably had a stash from Devon.

She grabbed up the bottle. It was time to get out of here. The alcohol was buzzing through her way too quickly. “Well, nice meeting you, Joya, and good luck.” She saluted her with the bottle.

Confusion continued to crease Joya’s forehead, but Reba was done here. Time to get her drink on and make more poor life choices.

By the time the main course came out, Devon had still not emerged from the house, but Joya had. Cherisse’s yawning had convinced Keiran it was time to leave, which left Reba to her own devices pretty much. Which was fine. This was her thing, making small talk and chatting up people even when she didn’t know them. She avoided Ms. King, preferring to tease Flex since he had control of his music now with Keiran’s absence.

But as she begged off dancing with another guy, who she assumed was one of Devon’s neighbours, she took another cup of the way too strong homemade wine. Damn, this shit was lethal but delicious. Like her. Devon should be so damn lucky to have her.

It was funny that he had finally said it out loud but then proceeded to say he didn’t want to want her. All in the same breath. Talk about irony.

Alright, time to pack it in. She was done. Tired of dancing and faking fun. Over it. Her sexy plans for the night were fizzling before her eyes. She couldn’t see how they would get to it when she couldn’t stop looking at Joya interact with Ms. King. Maxi kept eyeing Joya as if she couldn’t believe she was here. Her mother had apparently kept this little surprise to herself.

At around eleven, she texted Devon because why not make even better choices when tipsy?

Reba: hiding out again? You owe me a dance.

Reba: or maybe you’d rather dance with Joya? She’s cute. But I’m cute too, see?

Before she could think better of it, she attached one of the pics from the glow photoshoot. It was a little risqué, but he could see all that he would be missing. A few seconds passed before it occurred to her she shouldn’t have sent that because it made it sound like she cared. Fuck. She tried to delete the damn thing, but sluggish reflexes—fricking wine was lethal—meant the tick turned blue before she could do anything. Okay, it was really time to bounce.

She squinted at her phone, looking for the number she needed. She wasn’t going to be driving herself home.

“Hey, I need a favour, pretty please, with a hot guy on the top,” she begged when Scott answered. Calling Trina or Ayo was not an option. Too many questions would be asked, and she wanted to answer none of them.

“What’s up, gorgeous? You okay? You sound a little off.”

Tags: N.G. Peltier Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net