by Zoe Reid
Table of Contents
Milk & Cookies
Description
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Epilogue
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About the Author
Milk & Cookies
Milk & Cookies
By
Zoe Reid
Description
Set in Portland, Oregon — She is a widow and her step-son from her deceased husband’s previous marriage brings home a friend of his since this friend has no family. The guy is far too young for her, but he just won’t let up until she gives in… it’s not just Santa who enjoys Milk and Cookies.
Introduction
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Chapter 1
Chase
I stood there, staring down at the open dresser drawer and debating what I wanted to pack. Portland's weather was similar to Seattle’s—cold and wet. It was the middle of December, and there was a chance for snow, but I doubted it. It rarely snowed.
I stuck with what I was used to wearing and packed several T-shirts, a few long-sleeved light cotton shirts, and a variety of jeans, sweats, and athletic shorts. Even though I was going on vacation, I still had to keep up with my training. Baseball season was right around the corner. This was my last year to play, and I wanted to prove to UW that they’d made the right decision in giving me a full ride scholarship. I had to kick some serious ass and get my team to the finals.
With my suitcase packed, I headed downstairs, immediately deciding I’d packed too much.
“You sure this is okay?” I asked my best friend, Blake Hall, for what had to be at least the tenth time.
“Dude, it's fine. She isn't going to care. It isn't like there isn't space in the house. Trust me. There are more bedrooms than either one of us can count. She probably won't even know you're there,” he said, slightly exasperated.
“I don't want to impose.”
“Chase, it isn't imposing.”
“Your mom—”
“Stepmom,” he clarified.
I nodded. “Your stepmom may have plans that don't include you bringing home a stray for Christmas break.”
He laughed. “If she's even there.”
“Besides, my dad put in a lot of money making that house what it is. I think I have a right to enjoy it, and Leah is pretty cool. She won't care, man, trust me.”
“Okay, cool. Thanks again for letting me tag along. Anything to get out of this shithole,” I said, walking by a pile of red Solo cups that had been stacked at one point but were now spread across the floor.
The messy condition of the house day in and day out was getting old. I always had to wear shoes because I never knew what I may be stepping in. I had made the mistake of finding vomit once. Never again. It was to be expected when eight young men lived together. It was the typical college house. We had rented a four-bedroom house close to campus with two of us to a room. It was cramped and usually smelled like sweat, stale beer, and sex.
“I'll be ready to go in a minute,” Blake said, shoving a Pop-Tart into his mouth before running up the stairs two at a time.
“I'm gonna toss my suitcase in the car.”
“Okay,” he hollered from upstairs.
I walked out, inhaling the cool damp air and used the key fob to open the trunk of his BMW. Blake came from a wealthy family. Despite his wealth, he was a laid-back guy. He was very generous and never flaunted what he had. He lived like the rest of us poor, starving college students in a cramped house that offered no privacy.
We had met our first year at school when we both showed up to spring training for the baseball team. I was given a scholarship to play baseball. Blake and I both made the team and had been best friends ever since.
“Ready?” he said from behind me.
“Yep, let's get out of here. Traffic is going to be a nightmare,” I groaned.
He shrugged. “It isn't like we have to be there at a specific time. It's cool. Just sit back and enjoy the ride.”
Traffic turned our three-hour drive into almost five hours. By the time we made it to Portland, we were both ready to get out of the car. That's when he told me his family home was actually in Lake Oswego, a suburb of the booming city.
It was very clear as we drove down the highway that we were entering an affluent neighborhood. Then, we drove right past.
“Where are we going?” I asked, wondering if maybe he was lost.
He chuckled. “Our house isn't in a neighborhood exactly. My dad didn't want nosy neighbors. He had the house built on twenty acres. You'll see. It isn't like you can miss it,” he grumbled.
It was then I realized he was a little embarrassed by his family's wealth. I wanted to laugh at the absurdity, but I knew we all had our little hang-ups. I was poor, and he was rich. I'm sure we both envied each other a little, but having money certainly seemed like the better end of the bargain.
“Holy shit,” I breathed when he turned and a massive home could be seen peeking up beyond tall trees.
He stopped at the wide iron gate and punched in some numbers on a keypad. I stared in disbelief as the gate slowly slid into some secret place inside the hulking stone wall that blocked the entrance to what had to be an extremely large estate.
As we pulled through the gate, I began to second-guess my decision to come here.
“Are you sure—?”
He cut me off. “Don't even say it. I'm sure.”
I didn't. I couldn't. The long circular drive brought us to the front of the sprawling mansion.
“You didn't say it was a mansion,” I mumbled.
He shrugged. “I told you there were more rooms than we could use. That should have been a clue.”
My mouth was hanging open as I took in the massive white exterior of the home that seemed to stretch on for miles. The house had what looked like two wings on either side of a cylinder-shape. The huge circular driveway had another driveway off to the right that led to what looked like a six-car garage.
He stopped, pushed a button on the garage door opener on his visor, and waited. The door slid up to reveal several luxury cars inside. Blake pulled in, parked, and shut off the engine.
“Holy shit,” I said again, unable to think of anything else to say.
He shrugged. “I suppose you want the grand tour?”
“And a map,” I said dryly.
He left the garage door open, and we walked out to stand in front of the huge monstrosity he called home. As we stood there, a shiny red Range Rover pulled up the drive.
Blake waved to the woman driving. I was too focused on the perfectly landscaped grounds to really pay attention. I heard a squeal and the clacking of heels behind me and spun around. My jaw dropped open further than it had been.
“Hi!” the tall, slender woman with flowing blond hair called out, walking toward us.
She had on large sunglasses that covered most of her face, but that wasn't what dr
ew my attention. She was wearing a pair of leggings that showed off a pair of perfectly shaped legs with a cardigan that was long in the back and short in the front over a silk shirt.
“Hi, Leah,” Blake said, and my mouth went dry.
“That's your stepmom?” I whispered.
He laughed. “Yeah, it is. Long story. I'll explain later.”
She came to stand before us, pushed her sunglasses on the top of her head, and gave Blake a hug before turning to give me a hug. I awkwardly patted her back.
“Hi. I'm Leah, and you must be Chase,” she said with a warm smile.
I nodded. Not quite able to form words. I felt as if I had stepped into some alternate reality.
Blake made the official introductions. “Leah Hall meet Chase Vaugh and vice versa.”
“I was just over at the caretaker's house. I made some cookies and decided to take him some. You guys want some milk and cookies?” she asked.
That's when I knew I was no longer in my normal, little world.
“Sure,” Blake said.
“Yeah, that sounds good,” I managed to get out.
She walked in front of us, pushed open the massive wooden door, and once again, I had to work hard to appear like a normal person who was used to walking into mansions on a regular basis.
The foyer was massive. There was a huge spiral staircase in the center with wide archways on either side.
“This way,” she said, her heels making a clacking sound as we crossed the marble floor. I could smell the cookies and knew we were headed toward the kitchen. There was a sitting area to the left and a huge kitchen that was about the size of the house we lived in to the right.
There, in the center of one of the biggest kitchen islands I had ever seen, was a plate stacked high with cookies.
“Have a seat. I'll get the milk,” she said, gesturing to the many barstools lined up along the island.
I took a seat next to Blake and watched the woman walk to a refrigerator that looked big enough to be in a cafeteria. She opened the door, pulled out a gallon of milk and set it on the counter before gracefully opening one of the cupboards and pulling out two glasses.
I had always thought kitchens like these were fake like no one actually used them except for some high-priced chef. She seemed to know her way around the place very well.
She actually made cookies? My mind was blown.
Chapter 2
Leah
I was so glad I’d made the cookies. At first, I had thought it was a little childish, but I knew Blake loved cookies, and it didn't matter how old a boy was, milk and cookies was always a welcome treat.
I had to force myself to look away from Blake's friend. He was young, but hot damn, he was fine! He was a combination of carefree surfer with his tousled blond hair and professional athlete with his size and body build. It had been a long time since I felt that little stirring of attraction and arousal. It figures my libido would wake up when it found something I couldn't have.
The feeling of his hard body against mine had startled me. I hugged everybody. Men, women, kids, it didn't matter. Never before had I felt that little electric spark that fired me up and made me think about doing some very naughty things. His hard body combined with his masculine smell was an instant aphrodisiac.
“How's school going?” I asked both of them, trying to get my mind off sex with my stepson's friend.
My mind was buried deep in the gutter and getting further in as I watched him reach for another cookie. His baseball-style shirt was perfectly fit and revealed defined pecs and very nice biceps.
“Fine,” Blake said around a mouthful of cookie.
“Are you guys excited for the coming baseball season? Senior year!”
Chase looked at me, and my heart stopped beating for several long seconds. His eyes were a beautiful chocolate brown. He seemed to be staring straight into my soul. I couldn't look away. The man had the eyes of someone much older and wiser. He was an old soul.
“We start training as soon as break is over,” Blake commented.
“Yeah, no more milk and cookies,” Chase grinned. “We need to get our fill now before it's time to get back to the real world.”
His words stirred that little ember burning low in my belly. I wanted to gorge myself on something other than milk and cookies. I had a burning desire for him.
Stop it!
What the hell was I thinking? This man—kid—was my stepson's age. He was in college. I was a widower. I was way too old to be looking at him the way I was. Clearly, I was missing Dennis. It had been a year since he passed. I had not had sex with a man in all that time or even looked at a man in that way since I had met Dennis almost eight years ago.
Most people didn't believe Dennis and I had truly loved each other. He was twelve years older than I was, but it never felt like that. I had been twenty-four, fresh out of college and trying to figure out what I wanted to do with my life when I met the then thirty-six-year-old Dennis at some society function in the city. It had truly been love at first sight.
Of course, everyone assumed I was a gold digger after his money. I didn't go around flaunting it, but my parents had been quite wealthy when they died. My grandmother raised me modestly, even though I had a very healthy inheritance. It was nobody's business. I didn't even tell Dennis until we had been together for nearly six months. He and I had both been a bit secretive about our true worth. Both of us had been burned in the past by those who only wanted us for our money.
When we eloped, it had been incredibly romantic. I had never been the kind of girl who dreamed of some big fairytale wedding. Blake had been fifteen when I’d married his father seven years ago. He hadn't exactly welcomed me into his life with open arms, but we had a friendly relationship. We did hang out when he was on school breaks. I even managed to get along with his mother Janice Stroker, who was always traveling and rarely around.
I would have never guessed I would only get six years with the love of my life. Now, I was a widower in a big, empty house. We had planned to fill it with children. Our dream was to adopt as well as have a couple of our own.
It wasn't fair.
“Leah?”
I looked up to see Blake looking at me strangely. “Hmm?”
“I asked if you had a specific room you wanted Chase to use?”
“Oh, I don't care. Pick any you want. I can have the housekeeper put fresh sheets on the bed you choose,” I said, looking at him.
He smirked. “I can put my own sheets on.”
I felt my cheeks grow warm and likely turned a bright shade of red. “Of course, you can.”
I wasn't lazy, but I was certainly not up for taking care of this massive house on my own. With twelve bedrooms and fourteen bathrooms, it would probably take me a week to get done cleaning, only to have to start all over again. Of course, since I was the only person in the house, the other rooms stayed clean. The housekeeper dusted once a week in the rooms that were empty.
“Do you guys have any plans?” I asked, a little too eagerly.
Blake looked at Chase. “Sleep and do nothing.”
“Oh,” I said, my dreams of going ice skating, shopping for a tree, and every other plan evaporated.
“All right, we're going to go put our bags away. We'll see you around,” Blake said, sliding off the stool.
“Thank you for the cookies,” Chase said before turning to follow Blake out of the kitchen, leaving me standing there alone again.
“You're welcome. Let me know if you want to do anything later. I'm happy to be your chauffeur if you're tired of driving,” I said to their backs, secretly hoping they would take me up on the offer.
I plopped down on one of the stools and grabbed a cookie. I had been looking forward to hanging out with Blake for a few days before he went to his mother's. Now, it looked like he would be too busy for that since his friend was here.
This was my second Christmas without Dennis, but it didn't get any easier. He had died just before Thanksgiving la
st year. The private plane he had been on had crashed outside Portland. My heart had been broken, and last year, the holidays had been a blur. I didn't put up any decorations or even celebrate the holiday at all. I wanted to make this holiday special. My house was decked out with plenty of garland and lights. It helped lift my spirits and get me in the Christmas mood.
I looked around the kitchen and remembered the day Dennis and I had picked out the cabinetry. He had wanted white to make it look bigger and brighter. I wanted dark wood to make it look warmer and more inviting. I won. I loved my kitchen. In this ten-thousand-square-foot home, I spent the majority of my time in the kitchen. It was where I felt the most at home.
