Defending Zara (Mountain Mercenaries #6)(51)

Zara frowned. “A surprise?”

“Yeah, I’ve been working on something for you out in my shop, with help from Ro, since I’m still not healed. And this delivery will finish it off. Come here,” he requested, holding out his hand.

Without hesitation, Zara shut the laptop and stood. She put her hand in his, and he walked with her to the front door.

Since returning, she’d discovered how much she’d missed skin-to-skin contact with another person. Over the last week, Meat had held her hand several times. He’d also hugged her every now and then. With each touch, Zara craved more. She loved sitting close to him on the couch while they watched the news, scoffing over the continued speculation about her reappearance. She enjoyed being with him in the kitchen while he taught her how to cook a steak the “right” way by searing it first, then finishing it off in the oven.

But she especially loved sitting in the backyard with him late at night and staring up at the stars. They were the same stars she’d looked up at so many nights, praying that someone would find her.

Now she had been found, and she was safe, warm, and mostly content back in her home state.

The truck in Meat’s driveway said “Furniture Row” on the side. Meat shook the hand of one of the deliverymen without letting go of Zara’s. “It goes upstairs, third door on the end,” he told them. “And I’ll pay you extra if you bring up the part that goes with it that’s over there in the outbuilding.” He pointed toward his workshop. “I’ve got a few cracked ribs that are still healing, otherwise I’d be able to carry it upstairs myself.” The deliverymen agreed, and soon they were in the back of the truck getting ready to take inside whatever Meat had bought.

Zara had no idea what he’d purchased for her now, but when they were standing back in the living room, watching the men go up the stairs with a large box, then come back down to head out to his workshop to get whatever awaited out there, she said, “You don’t need to buy me things, Meat. I can get whatever I need for myself now that I have money.”

“I know I don’t, but I think you’re really going to like this.”

That was what he always said. Whether it was a box of candy bars he’d picked up at the store or a T-shirt with a funny saying on it that he thought would make her laugh. He seemed to know her really well after only a week, even better than he had already, which almost scared her.

“I know today will be tough, so I thought I’d do what I could to try to take your mind off it for a while,” Meat said.

Zara tried to tell herself he was only being nice because he felt responsible for her. That he wasn’t doing all the kind things he’d done throughout the last week because he liked her in any romantic way.

As it was, she had no idea what all the feelings rioting inside her own body and mind meant. It was ridiculous to be twenty-five and still a virgin, and crazier still to have no idea what Meat was thinking when it came to her.

He held her hand a lot, was always touching her, was endlessly kind . . . but was that what men did nowadays? Was this a normal thing between friends? Or did it mean more?

She had no idea. Although, she knew that every time he touched her, goose bumps rose on her skin. She always woke up anxious to see and talk to Meat, and when they parted at night to go to sleep, she felt a little let down. She hadn’t forgotten how good it had felt having him cuddled up behind her when they’d slept in the motel in Lima, and even at Daniela’s. She’d felt safe and comforted and, for the first time, hadn’t been scared to let a man touch her.

Zara was endlessly confused about her feelings for Meat.

And for the first time in her life . . . she wanted to kiss someone. But she had no clue how to go about making that happen.

Lost in her own musings, Zara hadn’t realized the men were done hauling whatever Meat had made upstairs and were now waving goodbye. They shut the front door behind them, and Meat turned her to the stairs.

“Well, go on. Go check it out.”

Zara looked at him before slowly starting up the stairs. Meat had let go of her hand, but she felt him walking close behind. She was nervous as hell to find out what in the world he’d bought, so she slowly opened the door to the room she’d been staying in.

Surprised, she stared at the new piece of furniture in the room.

The deliverymen had leaned the mattress that had been in there against one of the walls and had taken apart the frame as well. In its place was a smaller, lower bed they’d obviously assembled.

Zara looked from the beautifully carved headboard to the mattress and back to Meat. “I don’t understand,” she said. “That was a perfectly good bed. Why’d you get me a new one?”

“It’s a futon,” Meat said gently.

Zara frowned in confusion. “Okay?”

Meat smiled. “I know you haven’t been sleeping on the bed, Zara.”

She flushed. She hadn’t wanted to say anything to Meat about the mattress being too soft or the pillows being too fluffy. She was still sleeping on the hard floor and was embarrassed as hell about it. She wasn’t in the barrio anymore. She should be glad to have a soft place to sleep, but instead, she willingly crawled onto the floor each night because it was what she was used to.

“I wasn’t spying on you,” Meat told her. “I got up one night because I couldn’t sleep, and I was headed downstairs to get a drink of water. When I passed your room, I saw the door was partially open. I went to close it, and I saw you on the floor. You should’ve said something, Zar.”