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“You’re just no match for me and my puppy eyes. I could convince someone to give me all their money, you know?” Jack says, leaning on the counter.
You put on your oven mitt and pull a cookie sheet out of the oven, setting it on top of the stove.
You turn around with a raised brow, giving him a “you’re crazy” look.
“What?” You take off the oven mitt and set it on the corner.
“I can make anyone do anything I want with this dazzling smile.”
“Uh huh.” You glance over at Spot, Race, Albert, and Boots who are pretending to continue with their poker match. “Who said it?”
“What?” Racetrack growls when he realizes he has a bad hand. “What’d you say?” he asks you and pulls out his cigar.
“Which one of you got him going on his rant again?”
“I didn’t do it,” Racetrack says.
“Same here,” Albert chimes in, munching on a cookie… from the tray you just took out two minutes ago.
You reach out to snatch it from him, but he ducks and runs into the living room.
“You never come between a man and his sweets, sweets,” Spot wraps an around you, disturbing the brief moment of peace and quiet.
“Get off me pipsqueak.” You shove him away from you and the cookies. “I know your games. Don’t mess with me “king of Brooklyn” or you’ll face my wrath.”
He holds his head up high to intimate you… it’s not working. “Oh, yeah? What’s that?”
“Clean up duty.”
“You’re on your own Kelly,” he spits out before following Albert’s actions and exits the kitchen.
Jack gets off his stool and stands in front of you, blocking you from the cooling cookies.
He curls his index finger and raises your chin, leaning down to look into your eyes. “I bet I can get you to forget about me having kitchen duty today.”
You blink owlishly before shaking your head. You shrug, “nope sorry.”
“What?” He mumbles to himself not completely understanding what happened.
You scoot him out of the way to make another tray of cookies but find the bowl of extra dough missing from the fridge. “Albert! Racetrack! “King of Brooklyn!” You are all toast! Where are you?”
-
“We have a right to know what you’re blaming us for!” Racetrack shouts although he sounds muffled like he’s hiding in a closet or something.
“Who took the cookie dough bowl? I’m trying to make enough cookies to last at least one day.”
“I don’t know what to tell you- Albert! Get out of here!”
A crash comes from the hall closet closest to the living room.
You open the door to find Racetrack holding the “thief” in a headlock. You cross your arms, tilt your hip out and tap your foot.
“Hey, girlie. How ya been? Good?” Albert asks, his cheeks pink from embarrassment and shame as he looks up at you from his position.
“Little Bertie give me the bowl.”
“I don’t want to give you the bowl.”
“Why not?”
“You called me little Bertie and you know I don’t like it.”
“That’s part of your punishment.”
He groans and hands you the half-eaten bowl of cookie dough.
“At least this time you didn’t lose the spoon.” You slam the door shut.
-
Racetrack shouting and Albert begging is all anyone in the house can hear coming from the small space.
Davey recruits Kid Blink and the two usher everyone away from the hallway… at least until Racetrack is done.
-
During this time, you make your way to the kitchen and finish getting the next batch of cookies ready.
You notice Jack sitting on the counter which means the same thing, for everyone who lingers in the kitchen with their head down… they want a cookie.
“Give me a few minutes to get another batch going and I’ll give you a cookie,” you turn and point at him, “no more than one.”
Once the next batch is in the oven and you’ve set a timer, you give Jack what he wants.
He takes the cookie and pulls you closer, arms around your waist, head on your shoulder.
“Whatcha ya doing?” You ask while gingerly removing the cookie from his hand, so you don’t get any stains or crumbs on your shirt.
He shrugs but says nothing.
“Are you seriously sad about earlier?”
“Yes. We both know I can do it.”
“Yeah, Jack and why do you think I said no. Your irresistible puppy eyes would make me do anything you want; I didn’t want the others finding out and later to try to use it against me.”
“I know you’re being sarcastic but thank you. Now hold up the cookie.”
“No,” you laugh. “You’re not getting crumbs on my shirt.”
“Fine.” He snatches the cookie from your hand and basically inhales it.
He tries to pull you back into him, missing your warmth.
You squeal, attempting to push his hands off you. “Your hands have chocolate on them! You’re gonna stain my shirt!”
“We have stuff to get rid of stains.” He succeeds with his mission and hugs you once more, pecking your cheek, he leaves behind a chocolate smear.
Les sneaks past you two and steals the cookie jar.
“Les! No, put that back right now. If you all chow down on cookies you won’t want dinner and you’ll have upset stomachs.”
“I’m okay with that,” Spot chimes in, taking the jar from the young boy.
“No! Jack, let me go! I’ve got to stop the rugrats.”
“They made their choice, let them suffer the consequences.”
“Would you look at that? The puppy eyes worked on me.”
“Can I skip my clean up duty?”
“They don’t work that well.”
“What if I add my dazzling smile?”
“You look very handsome… but it’s not working.”
“They’re making me sick of the cookies! Make them stop!” Kid Blink whines.
“Why don’t you come here and say that to my face?” You reply.
“No thanks.”
You shake your head and laugh at the boy’s behavior. “I’m dealing with idiots.”
“Yeah, but we’re your idiots,” Jack whispers.
“That’s very sweet of you to say but you’re still on clean up duty.”
He groans but you know he’s kidding.