Chapter 7
Meadow pushed the phone closer to her ear as she whisked the grits, trying to whisper but failing miserably. “Girl, he’s too fine.”
Tia snickered on the other end, loud enough that Meadow had to hold the phone away from her ear. “I already know…Blain was watching Sports Network last night, and every time that man flashed across my screen, I grabbed my chest.”
“Girl, yes! Then when he opens his mouth…” Meadow fanned her face with the hand not holding the phone. “That west coast accent…bitchhhh.”
Meadow moved around the kitchen with ease. She cracked eggs with one hand, seasoned them with the other, and talked her way through every motion. The sun pushed soft, gold rays through the curtains, warming the old wooden counters and casting stripes along the floor.
Only difference today was Meadow was cooking a little more food than usual.
Her and Tia were almost always on the phone cackling about one thing or another, just two best friends who loved to start their days together even when some funky man was in the picture.
Once Meadow had left the guest house, she damn near jogged across the lawn, excitement pushing her forward like a teenager after her first crush.
She couldn’t get to her phone fast enough.
Tia was always the first call when life decided to serve her something spicy or sad.
Tia was truly her soulmate in friendship form and Meadow never wanted to experience a life without her ride or die.
“And you was bent over when he walked in?” Tia pressed, ready to absorb every little detail.
Meadow paused long enough to slap her hand over her face. “Yes.”
“Oh my God!” Tia squealed. “What you got on? I hope it’s those ribbed leggings with the seam between your booty cheeks. You know the ones. Those pants got you in a chokehold.”
Meadow burst out laughing, nearly spilling the eggs. “It wasn’t those! But girl…my ass can’t be missed regardless.” She did a little twerk even though no one was there to appreciate it.
“You right,” Tia said knowingly. “It’s a blessing and a curse from God Himself.”
Meadow agreed, flicking her wooden spoon in the pot of grits, sprinkling in more salt and stirring with her hips moving to the beat still stuck in her head. “I swear, Tia…I turned around and he was just…standing there. All tall and broad and fine as fuck.”
“Oh, he looks even better in person?” Tia was desperate to know.
“He looks…expensive,” Meadow’s voice floated back in time to relive meeting Zaire for the first time. “He has a look like I used to be a dope dealer now I own a million real estate properties kinda rich.”
Tia cackled. “Meadow!”
“What? I’m serious…you know I like niggas with a little hood in them.”
“Mmhmm…that’s why you keep letting Brent feel you up,” Tia teased.
“Girl, yes but Zaire puts Brent’s mid-level dealing ass to shame.”
“Amen,” Tia sighed dramatically. “But not too much on my brother-in-law.”
“And he wasn’t thirsty,” Meadow went back to talking about Zaire because Brent didn’t fit into this conversation. “That’s what messed me up. He wasn’t in there licking his lips or doing that lame hand rub thing men do. He just looked at me like he knew he looked good.”
“So he’s a dangerous one,” Tia concluded.
“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.”
“Then act like it.”
“No need to act when that shit is just in me.”
“Act quieter.”
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.
“Well…good morning,” she smiled. “Who is this?”
Rena adjusted her small breasts and straightened her back. She was always on the prowl. The way she saw it, her husband was still out there somewhere and she was determined to find him.
Zaire dipped his head politely. “Zaire.”
“Hmmm…nice name.” Rena dragged her gaze over him. “Nice everything.” She licked her lips.
Just from looking at him, she could tell he was one of Ray’s rich and famous golf buddies who swept in from time to time and left even faster.
Meadow slammed the spatula on the counter. “Rena!”
“What? I’m greeting our company,” she said sweetly, stepping closer. “You need anything, baby? Water? Juice? A lil’ tour of the house? Foot rub?”
Zaire smirked not in a thirsty way, just naturally charming. “I’m good, baby. Appreciate it though.”
“Oh, you’re welcome to anything you need,” Rena flirted, biting her lip dramatically.
Meadow narrowed her eyes. “Girl, can you go check on my mama instead of flirting with my guest?”
“I can multitask, Meadow,” Rena fanned her away, never breaking eye contact with Zaire.
“And I can fire you.”
Rena blinked. “Damn…okay.” She finally moved toward the hall, but not before giving Zaire one last obvious once-over. “Bye, Zaire.”
“Bye,” he saluted with a little nod, entertained.
When she disappeared, Meadow turned slowly, hand on her hip. “The hell you smiling for?”
“I ain’t say shit…just being nice,” he chuckled.
“You didn’t have to.” Meadow handed him a plate. “Sit down or get out.”
Zaire grinned, taking the plate. “She was bein’ nice. You ain’t have to threaten her job.”
Meadow rolled her eyes. “Rena don’t get nice with nobody but a man. She was tryna slide in your lap.”
Zaire laughed again, shaking his head. “You jealous, baby? Maybe you should take a page out her book and be nice to a nigga.”
Meadow pointed a fork at him. “Just eat your food before I throw you out.”
Zaire did what he was told.
He took a bite of grits, nodding in approval. “Aight, chef. I see why you bossin’ me around. This shit fire, cuh.”
“Thank you,” she muttered, failing miserably at hiding her smile.
Zaire leaned back in the chair, eyes locked on her. “You somethin’ else, Meadow.”
“And you showing too many teeth in my kitchen.” Her face warmed when she said it.
Zaire dipped his head, smirking. “Uh-huh. You like it.”
She did.
And hated that he knew.
Zaire was halfway through his grits when Ray came in, wiping sweat from his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt.
“Hmmm,” Ray said, sniffing the air. “Smells like my baby girl actually cooked with love today.”
Meadow rolled her eyes, playfully. “Daddy, I always cook with love.”
Ray kissed her cheek and patted her back twice. “Nah, you cook with attitude all the time.”
Zaire choked on a piece of bacon, trying not to laugh.
Ray noticed him at the table and nodded. “We meet again.”
“Sup,” Zaire replied, sitting up straighter.
Ray washed his hands, dried them, and pulled out a chair. “Ain’t nobody made a plate for me?”
“I did,” Meadow said proudly. “Right there.”
“Mmhmm, good.” Ray sat down, folding his hands. “Alright now…let’s bless this food.”
Meadow and Zaire bowed their heads even though Zaire had already started eating.