Chapter 9
Days later
The sky wasn’t even awake yet as Meadow rubbed her eyes and stepped off the porch, her old cotton jacket half-zipped and her wild curls trapped under a loose scarf she barely tied.
She expected to see him. It was probably why she had been so eager to come outside a little earlier than her usual time.
Zaire had been up every morning before the birds even thought about singing, out here hitting balls like the greens were the only thing keeping him alive. Since the last time they’d spoken, there wasn’t much conversation between them and Meadow preferred it like that.
Silence made it easier to pretend he didn’t live under her skin.
She hated the way his voice pulled at her, making her crave some West Coast sun she had no business craving…hated how the air shifted when he was close, like her skin opened its eyes before she did…hated that he showed up in her dreams on nights she swore she was too tired to think about a man.
Especially when it had been way too damn long since she’d had one on top of her.
A warm one…a strong one…a man who knew what to do with his body and hers.
But the real version of him…the version standing thirty yards from her…that one was to fucking die for.
Tall with broad through the shoulders, his skin was a warm, rich brown that stole whatever moonlight was left and kept it for himself.
His low cut was fresh, waves spinning tight enough to hypnotize anybody careless enough to stare.
Ink climbed his forearms, bold and black lines that told stories whether he explained them or not.
They wrapped his muscle, peeked out from the soft cotton of the short sleeve tee he threw on like he didn’t know what it did to a woman.
Zaire stood out on the green with his back to her, earbuds in, head nodding slow to whatever was feeding his spirit this morning. Every exhale loosened his shoulders and every inhale pulled him deeper into whatever world he retreated to when nobody else was awake.
Lord…get me together, she thought, heat tightening low in her belly. I am not about to stand out here acting thirsty over a man I barely know.
But her eyes didn’t listen, her body didn’t either.
It was too early to be horny, but this was what happened when your rose was the only thing warming your sheets.
Meadow exhaled and stepped closer. Not because she wanted to, but because her body had a mind of its own.
She stopped walking and just watched him.
He looked different in the dawn.
Focused…beautiful in a lonely way.
Meadow moved closer.
Zaire sensed her before he heard her. His hand went straight to his waistband, his face balled into a scowl.
Meadow froze mid-step. “Whoa! Whoa - what the hell?” her voice jumped up an octave.
Zaire ripped one earbud out and blinked. “Damn, Meadow…don’t be walkin’ up on me like that.”
“You pulled a GUN on me?!” Meadow was terrified, yet wondered why this made her pussy crave him even more. She always loved a man with that hood edge. So much so, that she truly wanted to be edged by him.
“You didn’t announce yourself!”
“I live here!” she shouted back in shock.
He stared at her, chest rising and falling. Then he slowly tucked the gun back in his waistband like that was normal morning behavior. “It ain’t for you…relax.”
“Relax?” Meadow threw her hands up. “You just tried to kill me at six-thirty in the morning!”
His mouth twitched like he wanted to laugh, but was too irritated. “Girl, nobody was finna shoot you.”
“You didn’t know it was me!”
“You walk heavy as hell. I thought you was a man.”
“Wow…real cute.”
They stood there, breathing in the same cool air, tension sharp enough to taste. Zaire rubbed the back of his neck, jaw tightening.
“I always keep a gun on me,” he told her. “I’m from Crescent Park. I grew up with ops, haters, whatever you wanna call ’em. I ain’t movin’ nowhere without it.”
Meadow frowned, arms folded across her big breasts. “This is Juniper Falls, not whatever danger-zone you’re used to. You don’t need that here.”
“Shit,” he mumbled, looking into the darkness like he could still see his past in it. “You don’t know what I need.”
Her tone softened a fraction. “You don’t gotta live like you still on alert.”
Zaire knew Meadow would never fully understand why he was who he was, or why he did the things he did.
He just looked at her, his eyes tired, wishing she could magically change how he showed up in the world…
how he felt the need to always be on alert.
Still, he kept his hope of better days tucked deep because he didn’t trust it.
“You sound real sure of yourself,” he muttered.
“Somebody needs to be.”
Zaire scoffed, lips tugging into a smirk that was equal parts annoyed and impressed. “Meadow, you…phew. You a lot in the morning, cuh.”
“And you’re…armed,” she snapped.
He shook his head and looked away like he didn’t have the energy to fight with her this early.
“Look,” he sighed. “Maybe we got off on the wrong start or some shit. But I don’t argue, baby, not how you wanna argue.”
“I wasn’t trying to argue. I was trying to not get shot before breakfast.”
“Ain’t nobody shootin’ you.” Zaire was annoyed because what wasn’t clicking with her? “Can we just…start over or some shit?”
She blinked at him. “Start over?”
“Yeah.”
“After you just pulled a gun on me?”
“You snuck up on me.”
“I walked.”
“You walked loud.”
Meadow put her hands on her hips. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re dramatic as fuck.”
“Excuse me?” she blinked, needing him to repeat himself because what gave him the impression he could tell her anything about herself?
He lifted both palms. “I’m just sayin’…I’m tired, it’s early, you yellin’…can we reset?”
A lusty warmth nudged her chest. She didn’t want it to…but it did.
Looking from the grass, then back at him, she conceded. “Fine, start over.”
Zaire let the breath leave his lungs in a way that made her think he needed this more than he’d ever admit. He lifted his chin and said, “Morning”.
Meadow’s lips twitched even though she tried to stay mad. “Morning, baby.”
Meadow looked like she hadn’t expected him to say it with that tone.
Deep and dipped in lust that wasn’t meant for broad daylight.
Her lips parted a little, and God…he shouldn’t have noticed that…
shouldn’t have noticed how her chest rose under that thin-ass jacket or how her attitude looked good on her this early.
He shouldn’t have noticed anything about her.
Zaire kept his face unreadable, but inside, a slow heat rolled through him…thick, dark, and needy. It crawled up his body and sat heavy in his groin. She had him wired, irritated, and damn near hard all at once. A mix of emotions he hadn’t felt in a long time.
Why she look good mad? Why did her voice shake like that when she talked shit? Why did her thighs look tight like she was clenching something for him?
He hated the way his body reacted to her…hated that she smelled like dew and something sweet he wanted to taste…hated that her fear of him didn’t push her back…it only pulled her closer.
He dragged his tongue across his teeth. Damn…she really don’t know what she waking up over here.
He tucked his gun deeper into his waistband and stepped just close enough for her to feel the heat rolling off him, but not close enough to touch her. If he touched her, it was over for the both of them.
In his head, though…in that slow, dangerous place between annoyance and hunger -
he pictured her up against the shed door, her breath mixing with his, her hands in his waves, with her legs around his waist, and that pissed him off even more.
Relax, he told himself. You’re not here for this girl. You’re not here for nobody.
He swallowed hard, shoulders rising just slightly as he forced control back into his body.
“Morning,” Meadow tried to keep her voice mad but it wasn’t flowing out the way she wanted.
He nodded toward the driver in his hand. “I come out here when I can’t sleep.”
“You didn’t sleep?” she asked before she could catch herself.
Zaire’s eyes dragged across her face. “Nah.”
“Nightmares?”
He didn’t answer.
But that was his answer.
Meadow sighed softly. “You could’ve told me you were out here.”
“How?” He looked at her because how would he let her know? He didn’t have her number or a pigeon to send the message.
“Good point,” she smirked, dying on the inside to give him her number even if they slept mere feet away from each other.
“I didn’t think you’d be up.”
“Why not?”
“You look like the sleep-in type.”
“I’m not.”
“I see.”
She squinted at him. “Why you say that like it’s a personality flaw?”
Zaire shrugged, smirking again. “Just…tryin’ to learn you.”
Her stomach flipped.
She hated that it flipped.
“Well,” she muttered, clearing her throat, “maybe don’t learn me with a weapon in your hand next time.”
He nodded slowly. “Aight, cuh...fair enough.”
They stood there in the stillness, the sky starting to lighten just a little. Zaire picked up another ball and set it down. “You wanna watch?”
Meadow twisted her lips. “Watch what?”
He lifted his driver. “Me tryna get my head right.”
Her throat tightened for reasons she didn’t want to investigate. She moved closer without thinking. “Yeah. I’ll watch.”
Zaire pulled his earbuds out completely this time. He turned his body, lined up and swung.
He glanced back at her, his breath coming out in a cloud, that guarded softness slipping in. “Ain’t gotta be scared of me, you know.”
Meadow didn’t say anything. She just watched him set down the next ball.
But something between them shifted.
Zaire lined up another swing like their argument earlier never happened. Meadow watched the club cut through the air, smooth as warm butter, the ball whistling off into the distance like it knew it was supposed to perform for him.
He didn’t look at her right away.
He just reset.
Meadow swallowed.
He really was fine.
Annoying, but fine.