“Go to bed,” he asserted, “before I forget why I’m trying to be careful with you.”
Meadow didn’t move. Her hand remained on his hoodie, gripping lightly. “Sometimes it’s good to forget.”
Zaire tilted his head and looked at her in a way that said she wasn’t wrong. “Goodnight,” his lip curved. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”
He walked out before she could take him by the hood and ruin the little restraint he had left.
And Meadow stood there, lips swollen, dress warm where he’d been pressed, knowing damn well sleep wasn’t coming for either of them tonight.
“Ugh!” She flopped back on the bed. “Just fuck me already,” she said to herself knowing Zaire was long gone.
Reaching over, she grabbed her rose, spread her legs, and dreamed of Zaire.
Zaire wasn’t built for sleeping in, not when his mind was knotted with too many thoughts and not enough air. He’d woken up before the house started creaking, walked across the lawn and to the main house. He hated how they never had the doors locked shit like that would never fly where he was from. Not Crescent or the luxury estate he had in Madison Heights. He eased open Meadow’s door just enough to reach her nightstand. Her alarm was two minutes from going off—he saw the glow of it—and he didn’t think twice before tapping it off and walking back out, closing the door quietly behind him. It wasn’t meant to be some romantic gesture. He just didn’t want her dragged out of whatever sleep she managed to catch. She carried too much on her back for him to let the morning punch her in the face like that.
Downstairs, the kitchen was quieter than usual. Rena stood at the counter, hair wrapped neatly, makeup done like she’d been awake for hours waiting on an audience.
She perked up when Zaire walked in, smiling wider than necessary. “Morning,” she hummed, leaning against the counter that was full of grocery bags she was supposed to be unpacking.
“Morning,” Zaire responded, grabbing a pan like he lived there, moving around the kitchen with ease he had no business having. He cracked eggs into a bowl, whisked them quickly, and turned the stove on.
He wanted to make breakfast for the house and give Meadow a little bit of a break today. She deserved that.
Rena watched him, smiling into her shoulder. “Didn’t know you could cook.”
“I can do a lil’ somethin’,” he disclosed, not looking over.
Rena shifted closer, hip grazing the counter, her eyes dragging over him like she wanted to try something. “You from Cali, right? Y’all all be in the kitchen? Or that just you?”
Zaire shrugged, still whisking. “Everybody gotta eat.”
“Mmm,” she replied, eyes drifting slow over his arms, his back, his shoulders. “Well… it looks good on you.”
He didn’t return the compliment or correct her. Zaire just kept flipping slices of bread, butter hissing in the pan. Zaire didn’t flirt, but he didn’t shut her down either. It wasn’t intentional. He was just distracted—mind replaying Meadow in the doorway last night, her dress, her breath mixing with his, the taste of her still warm on his mouth.
He went to the fridge to grab the bacon. He was cooking all out of order but he didn’t care. Zaire was a do what I want type of man.
“What you looking for?” Rena asked, sipping on her cup of store bought coffee.
“Bacon.”
Reaching inside one of the bags, she pulled the pack out. “Here.”
“Thank you,” he smiled, finally looking at her.
Butterflies attacked her. He was so smooth and too fine. She loved the way he looked and after looking him up, she loved his bank account too. Rena was always looking for love. Getting a man had never been an issue for her, it was just finding the right one that seemed to be the problem.
“How you liking it here?” She probed.
Zaire sliced the pack open then. “The range is cool… ain’t seen much of the town though.”
“Intentionally?”
He shrugged. “Just tryin’ get my head right, you know?”
“I do but you can’t hit balls all the time like that’s some magical fix.”
“Look at you,” he smirked, grinning at her.
