When he swung, the ball soared dead center down the field.
Meadow pressed her lips together. “You showin’ off.”
“You started it.”
“You still showin’ off.”
He looked at her, voice easy and honest. “I’m tryin’ to impress you.”
Meadow’s breath hitched…just a little.
Not enough to expose her, but enough for him to feel it.
She turned away before he could see the softness in her eyes. “C’mon” she murmured, reaching for another ball. “We both know you’re hungry. Let me go make breakfast.”
Zaire’s smile shifted and became deeper, softer, not as playful. “You sure?”
“I said I cook because I feel like it, not because I lose.” She looked back at him over her shoulder. “And I feel like it.”
Zaire rubbed his jaw, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth while staring at her like she was a sunrise he didn’t expect to see but never wanted to miss.
“Well damn,” he murmured. “Lead the way then, baby.”
Meadow walked ahead, hips swaying just enough to make his mind misbehave.
Zaire followed, clubs over his shoulder, eyes locked on her without shame.
Meadow workedthe stove with a confidence that didn’t need explaining. One hand on the pan, the other grabbing seasonings without looking. Her meaty hip bumping the oven door closed. Her bare feet tapping the tile to whatever rhythm lived in her head.
Zaire leaned against the counter across from her, arms crossed, watching her like she was a show he didn’t plan to enjoy, yet couldn’t pull away from.
She flipped French toast, the heat rising around her face. “You staring,” she said without turning around.
“I’m allowed,” he answered.
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am,” he replied, taunting her.
She side-eyed him hard. He grinned.
The air was soft between them…different from yesterday.
A little too warm for morning but still refreshing.
Zaire cleared his throat. “You cook like somebody raised you right.”
“Ray don’t play about food,” she laughed. “I been cooking since I was able to hold a spatula.”
“I can tell.”
She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. She hated that he made her smile this much.
Zaire pushed off the counter, walked over, and grabbed two plates from the cabinet like he belonged there.
Meadow’s stomach dipped a little.
“Put the plates down,” she mouthed. “Food’s almost done.”
