“Exactly! Men like that are always dangerous.” Meadow wiped the counter, still holding the phone between her ear and shoulder.
She scrambled the eggs, then poured them into a serving dish. The bacon crackled behind her, and the biscuits rose in the oven, making the whole kitchen smell buttery and warm.
“You think he was looking at your booty?” Tia teased.
“Girl,” Meadow scoffed, “It felt like he was looking through me.”
Tia snorted before cackling loudly.
Footsteps hit the porch steps outside, heavy enough for Meadow to notice. “We’ll finish this later,” she whispered. “He’s walking in.”
“Ooooooh, put me on FaceTi?—”
Meadow hung up, lightly laughing to herself, knowing Tia was going to cuss her out when they spoke again.
Zaire entered with a presence that effortlessly filled the room. He was dressed differently, or maybe he’d only shed his denim jacket. He wore a long-sleeve tee and joggers, simple but fitted, and the morning sun made the diamond in his ear glint when he moved. His chain sat neatly over his collarbone, subtle but unmistakable. He smelled like a good, faint cologne, and something natural…maybe pine or the outdoors from walking across the yard.
“Damn what you got goin’ on in here? Smells hella good,” he praised, closing the door behind him and nodding toward the stove.
Meadow’s legs turned into mush from his swirly words and the way hella rolled off his tongue.
She kept stirring the grits, pretending she wasn’t instantly aware of him. “Food.”
“Yeah, I figured,” he teased, stepping deeper into the kitchen.
Zaire dragged his tongue across his bottom lip slow, watching her ass move while she stirred the grits. It wasn’t even a full shake, just a soft, natural sway. Had him leaning on the counter like he needed the support.
Meadow wasn’t doing nothing extra, just cooking breakfast in those leggings he was already in lust with, gravity swaying her hips to a rhythm that made his dick swell and his heart thump. hips moving on their own.
Zaire adjusted himself, hoping she didn’t notice. He was a man but never wanted to borderline creep status.
“Sit down,” Meadow fussed, pointing at the table without looking up. “And wash your hands, I don’t play that.”
Zaire sucked his teeth. “Girl, stop actin’ like I don’t know shit. Lesha ain’t raise no damn savage.”
“Thenactlike it.”
“No need toactwhen that shit is just in me.”
“Actquieter.”
His laugh was deep, it vibrated through his chest and made his chain jump. “You somethin’ else, for real.”
Meadow ignored the way that laugh warmed her chest. She turned off the stove, pretending she wasn’t listening to his every move behind her.
Zaire walked to the sink, washing his hands slow like he knew she was peeking at him out the side of her eye. “Happy?” he asked, flicking water off his fingers.
“No - dry your hands.”
He groaned, grabbing a towel. “Bossy ass.”
“Messy ass,” she fired back.
“You like this shit,” he shot back. “I bet you get real messy.” His eyes twinkled when her throat jumped from the hard swallow she made, shocked by his audacity.
Before she could respond, the screen door creaked open again.
Rena stepped in with her purse on her shoulder. Her scrubs were tight, her lashes extra-long, and her lip gloss popping like she came to stunt instead of work. Her eyes landed on Zaire and damn near fell outta her head.
