Meadow blinked. “Excuse me?”
“You’re high,” he announced like she didn’t know. “And that last drink wasn’t little.”
“I’m fine,” Meadow pouted.
“You’re not.” Zaire stood up. “Get up, Meadow.”
“Nigga…” Brent jumped up, only coming to Zaire’s chin.
“Meadow.” Zaire kept his voice calm. “C’mon, baby.”
Meadow stood there frozen with every pressure point in her body thumping on beat. She wasn’t scared, but his assertion stopped her dead in her tracks because that tone wasn’t optional.
Zaire was a man.
A protective one.
Independent women could spot them a mile away. They were the only kind of men that could tell you what to do, because they couldtell you what to do.
And she folded just like he knew she would. See, Meadow wasn’t that hard to figure out. Not when he’d been raised by the same kind of woman. Zaire knew the ins and outs of women like her. Women like Lesha.
Brent stepped forward. “If you need a place-”
“She don’t,” Zaire cut him off.
Brent narrowed his eyes. “I wasn’t talkin’ to you.”
“But I answered, cuh” Zaire challenged, unbothered and daring him to make the wrong move.
Rena perked up. “I could take her home…”
Meadow turned to her. “Girl, you gotta be at work at seven. You need to go home too.”
Rena deflated instantly.
Zaire placed his hand on Meadow’s lower back. It was warm, firm, and guiding.
Meadow wanted to snap at him but her body melted instead.
There was no more back and forth because when it came to being a man and saying what he said, Zaire didn’t negotiate.
They stepped out into the night, Meadow sucking it in with a deep inhale.
“Baby?” Zaire pulled her attention to him and off the passersby who didn’t matter. “When I say something, don’t talk back, just move like I tell you to move. I told you, I ain’t with all that arguing. Everything is not a debate.”
A shiver ran up her spine so fast she didn’t have time to brace herself. Her body swayed and her pulse flipped against her throat. Meadow hated to admit that the firmness in his voice was like an aphrodisiac. It shut her the fuck up and contrary to what most men who encountered would believe, she liked the idea of shutting the fuck up.
“C’mon.” He gritted, before they made their way back to the car.
Zaire took the keys out of her hand so smoothly she didn’t realize it. “Move.” He sidestepped her, walking around to the driver’s side.
“I can drive,” she protested, wobbling only a little.
“You can’t drive a damn thing,” he muttered. “Get yo’ ass in.”
She went to snap back but stopped when those brown eyes seared into hers.
“What I just say, cuh?”
