Page 24 of Hitting the Gap

Bailey rooted around in the cupboards, looking for chocolate chips. At the bottom of the pantry drawer, she unearthed a bag of butterscotch chips. Good enough. After a quick scan of the expiration date, she tossed the bag on the counter with the rest of her dry ingredients.

She pulled out a large copper mixing bowl. Good lord, he had some nice stuff. His kitchen was like something on one of those cooking shows. Definitely different from the dented metal bowls she was used to using.

She popped a stick of butter in the microwave to soften while she lined up the rest of her ingredients on the quartz island. As she cracked the first egg into the bowl, she hummed quietly to herself. By the time she was mixing the wet ingredients all together, she was singing quietly and moving her hips to the beat.

Bailey scooped up big balls of dough and dropped them onto the cookie sheet. She eyed the stereo remote. If she’d been alone, she would have been listening to it full blast. Little different when Gonzo was home with a guest but given how loud the woman was, maybe he wouldn’t even notice.

She clicked the remote and turned it on low. Gonzo’s guest’s moans grew louder, and she could barely even tell that the stereo was on. She clicked the music higher. The woman screamed. Click, click. She upped the volume a little more. When she heard what hopefully was the woman orgasm, Bailey turned the music down slightly. Hopefully, they wouldn’t be able to hear it. The last thing she wanted was one of them coming out to tell her to turn it down. Bailey tapped along to the beat, then shimmied her way over to the stove to check on her cookies. Mmm, perfect golden brown. She inhaled deeply. Cookies were like crack to her system. Her mouth watered just looking at them. She pulled out the cookie sheet with one hand and stuck a second tray in the oven to bake.

As she turned with the cookies, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye and bobbled the tray, barely managing to hit the island instead of dropping the whole thing on the floor. She slapped her hand over her racing heart. “Oh my god, you scared me.”

“What are you doing up?” Gonzo asked.

“Really? Who the hell could sleep through that performance?” Bailey leaned her hip against the island and eyed Gonzo. “Please tell me you weren’t buying that show.”

“What can I say? I’m good in bed.”

“No one’s that good.” Bailey snorted. “That was ridiculous.”

He picked up a cookie, broke it in half and shoved the broken piece in his mouth. He moaned. “Damn that’s good.”

She pointed a finger at him. “See that right there? That’s what a normal person sounds like when something hits just right.” She flicked her thumb toward his room. “Not whatever that was.”

“Believe me, Bay, I hit her just right too.” He waggled his eyebrows and grinned.

“Pretty sure she wouldn’t have been going all overboard with the moaning if you were actually hitting her right, buddy.”

“Trust me, she wasn’t faking.” He scooped up two more cookies in his hand.

“Whatever you need to tell yourself.” Bailey leaned her hip against the counter and broke a cookie in half and popped it in her mouth. The warm melted butterscotch chip hit her tongue and she closed her eyes in bliss.

Gonzo cleared his throat. “So um…” He cleared his throat again. “Did you watch the game?”

“I did. Sorry you lost. That sucks.” She nodded toward the bedroom. “Guess you found a way to drown your sorrows.”

He mumbled some kind of incoherent sound, then took another bite of cookie.

“At least you played well.” The timer on the oven buzzed. Bailey slid the oven mitts onto her hands and pulled open the oven door. The smell of hot cookies blasted her face as she leaned over to pull the tray out of the oven. She slid the sheet onto the cooktop. “My dad said to tell your coach, Hernandez’s playing too far off the bag for his speed.”

Gonzo snorted. “I’ll be sure to tell him. So you talked to your folks tonight?”

“You know my dad, he likes to do the play-by-play of the game.”

“I didn’t know you guys still did that.”

“Mmm, we don’t do it after every game, but at least once a week he calls during the seventh inning stretch to make sure I’m paying attention.” Some weeks it was hard to catch all the games, especially since Brad hated baseball and complained whenever she wanted to watch Gonzo play. Her unwillingness to give up watching had caused more than a couple of fights in their relationship.

“And are you?”

“Of course. I’d never hear the end of it from him if I wasn’t.” And if he didn’t call her, she always called him for their weekly baseball gab session.

“I’m surprised you kept that up.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. We haven’t talked much in the past couple of years, not like we used to. I just figured you wouldn’t be watching as often anymore.”

“Just because we weren’t talking as much doesn’t mean I stopped supporting you, Gonz.” She scooped up a ball of cookie dough and dropped it onto the sheet. “Besides, there’s no way my dad or yours would let me stop watching.”

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