Don't Go Baking My Heart

“I’m not trying to sway you. Well, sway your mind. I’m not, I just love this song.”

“Hmm.”

“Wooing would be me doing this.” He tightened his hold on her waist, drew her in closer. He watched as her lips parted ever so lightly.

“Yeah?” she breathed. “Then what?”

“Then this.” He squeezed her waist before removing his hand to cup her chin, tilt her head up. “But it’s not wooing so…”

“Right. Nothing to see here. You should sort out the ganache and fondant.”

“Of course.” He stepped away from her, shaking himself out of the spell he had fallen under. He hadn’t meant to do that, but he definitely would have kissed her if she hadn’t put a stop to it.

The next day wasn’t any better. Reba giving him a pep talk about what to expect for next week. Making him binge-watch various baking shows to help him get into the mindset when all he could think about was how good she smelled. That damn vanilla scent and how much he wanted to beg her to come to this damn party he didn’t want to go to.

Since it was their last session, he had organised dinner for them while they watched the shows. Reba had looked at him suspiciously, obviously thinking he was trying to pull a fast one like the dancing from the previous day.

He wasn’t, not really. It was all just to thank her ahead of the competition next week.

“You cooked for me? You didn’t have to do this. You paid me. That was thanks enough.”

“I know. I can’t help wanting to do things for someone I l—” He coughed. “Like and have come to care about.”

Either Reba hadn’t caught on to his almost giant mistake, or she was ignoring it.

“We should’ve gone out to celebrate or something. This feels too cozy, if you get what I mean.”

He got it. It felt couple-y, which was exactly what he preferred, but he asked, “Do you want to go somewhere?”

“Have you ever been to a food rave?”

“I have no idea what that is.”

“Great!” She jumped up. “It’s this amazing thing that combines food and music. Just good vibes. You in?”

That sounded loud and crowded, yet he stood up. It could be another test, or she could genuinely just want him to go with her. She was thinking things through, yet she had asked him to come with her. So he said yes.

And found himself pressed up against her on a Sunday night as she jumped up and down to the live band that was belting out some rock song he didn’t know. Reba was singing loudly, pure joy on her face. Devon swore his heart grew two more sizes. God, he was in big trouble here.

When the band finished their set, and he could hear again, he pulled her into a little corner. “Why did you ask me to come here…with you?”

Reba had swapped out her shorts for a miniskirt she had in her baddess bag and tied the front of her t-shirt, turning the casual attire into something a whole lot sexier. “I just wanted you to see this, you know? I’m sorry if I’m sending mixed signals.”

“No, don’t be sorry. This is something.”

“You hate it.”

“Not at all. It’s a little loud, but I enjoy the concept. Really.”

“Good! You’re the first person I thought to share this with, if that means anything.”

It meant everything to him, though he didn’t say that part out loud. She might not have made up her mind, but her words were somewhat telling. Maybe they had that one thing in common. Truths didn’t hit them right away; they snuck up on them.

He was a patient man. Even if the outcome didn’t work in his favour, he could still wait. He took her outstretched hand and followed her back into the crowd.