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Page 1 of Captivated (Salvation #3)

Chapter One

Zeeb Nolan wasn’t the kind of man who believed in signs—well, he didn’t think he was—but if he were, the bloodred sunset tinging the snowcapped peaks behind him, stretching across the horizon, might’ve meant something was about to change.

Bring it on.

He’d spent twelve years following the same routines. Maybe his life was ready for a shake-up.

The camp was set up at the foot of the mountain like it always was, the river snaking through the valley.

Cattle stood on its low bank, drinking. On the food wagon, Matt Farmer strummed his guitar, and Paul Stormcloud sang, the lyrics indecipherable, and rather than shatter the peace of the early evening, somehow they combined to add something to it.

Zeeb loved taking the herd to the south pasture. Three nights under the stars, sitting around campfires, talking, laughing, eating Matt’s amazing chicken soup and drinking coffee from tin cups….

This was routine, his comfort zone.

Then why am I considering stepping out of it?

For the life of him, he couldn’t pin it down.

He glanced toward the camp to see who was around. Walt Crosby was off riding the perimeter with the two guests taking part in the cattle drive. There was no sign of Butch Buchanan and Sol Davenport.

Zeeb snorted. Well, there’s a surprise.

The previous summer Sol had ridden out with them, and while it had been clear how much he’d loved the experience, the two men had also added a new activity to their repertoire.

Fucking under an open sky.

Zeeb cackled. Get me. Repertoire. I sound like the boss. He knew Butch and Sol would’ve taken their bedrolls—and probably plenty of lube—and gone out to find the perfect spot.

Good for them.

There was no sign of Toby and the boss either.

Zeeb smiled to himself. Two years had flown by since Toby Merrow had taken part in his first cattle drive, and Zeeb could still recall having a quiet word when the boss wasn’t around.

Except with hindsight, it had been less of a quiet word, and more of a threat.

Don’t break his heart. Because you do that, and I’ll come out to California, and I’ll find you.

Only, it was all bluff. Zeeb hadn’t left the state in over twelve years, and he saw no reason to cross its borders anytime soon: Montana, just like Salvation, was yet another comfort zone.

And in the end, the boss had been the one to call a halt—until both of them got their heads out of their asses and saw what was right in front of them.

Loved-up was a good look on Robert Thorston, one that had been MIA for a while.

Like, five years—until Toby showed up.

The wind picked up a little, and carried on it was the unmistakable sound of a moan, coming from Toby’s and the boss’s tent.

Guess I know what they’re doing . Love sure was thick in the air these days.

Everywhere but in my life.

And where in the hell had that come from?

Zeeb drank what coffee was left in his cup and got up to wash it in the river. He bent down to fill it, the ice-cold water chilling his warm hands. He straightened, raising his gaze to the peaks.

The last tinges of red had yet to disappear.

End of another day.

For some reason, the habitual thought didn’t bring comfort.

“Hey.”

He glanced up to see Walt ambling over to him. “Hey yourself. Everything okay?” He dried his palms on his shirt.

Walt nodded. “I heard a couple of wolves while we were out, but they’re nowhere close. We’d better keep our eyes peeled tonight though. You wanna help me stoke up the fire a little? Matt’ll want to serve supper soon.”

“Sure.” He inclined his head toward the two guests. “How did they do? That Haskins fella strikes me as the kind of city guy who’d run a mile at the sound of a wolf.”

“He did all right. And Dempsey rides so much better than when he first arrived. Looks as if he’s loving every minute of it too.”

They walked toward the spot where last night’s fire had burned. Between them, they piled up the kindling and branches and it wasn’t long before flames lapped hungrily at the wood.

“You were looking kinda thoughtful back there by the river,” Walt mused.

“No more’n usual,” Zeeb countered.

Walt glanced around the camp. “Where is everyone? Where’s the boss?

” Zeeb jerked a thumb toward the boss’s tent, and Walt grinned.

“Dumb question, huh? I guess that means I don’t have to ask where Butch and Sol are, do I?

” He let out a sigh that sounded almost forlorn, and so unlike the Walt Zeeb knew it caught his attention.

“What’s up with you?”

“I miss having Butch around the bunkhouse, that’s all.”

Zeeb frowned. “He’s still the bunkhouse manager, last time I looked.”

“Course he is, but it isn’t the same, now he disappears off to that cabin the boss had built for ’em every night.” He chuckled. “Their own little love nest.”

Zeeb let rip with a loud snort. “Christ on a cracker, don’t let Butch hear you come out with shit like that.”

Walt sat back on his haunches. “Those two, Toby and the boss…. Makes me kinda jealous.”

Okay, that came from nowhere. What made it all the more shocking was how Walt seemed to have plucked that very thought from Zeeb’s head.

Zeeb was right back to that bloodred sky again. Maybe it is a sign after all.

He chuckled. “You can go into Bozeman anytime you like and get laid in a heartbeat. Remember last week when you came with me to the post office to pick up the boss’s package? That girl who works there—what’s her name? Donna?—she was lookin’ at you like she was starving an’ you were lunch.”

Walt laughed. “You noticed that, huh?”

He rolled his eyes. “What I noticed was you not askin’ for her number. Because day-um , boy. She was so hot, she’d burn up the sheets.” Not to mention young and pretty as a summer morning, the kind of girl Zeeb might have made a play for when he was Walt’s age.

Nowadays? He took what he could get.

Walt grinned. “I was kinda spoiled for choice that day. They’ve got a new mailman just started. Hoo boy.” He fanned himself with his hat.

Zeeb frowned. “Then why didn’tcha ask at least one of ’em out on a date? That’s assumin’ the new hot mailman swings that way.”

“I wasn’t sure. I mean, I could’ve imagined that glance he gave me.” Walt’s eyes sparkled. “I found him later on Grindr.”

“Well okay then. Next day off you get, go up to Bozeman and try your luck.” He cackled. “You never know, you might end up in bed with both of ’em.”

Walt flushed. “That thought had crossed my mind, but I’ll be happy if one of them says yes.” Then he let out another drawn-out sigh.

Zeeb gave him a hard stare. “What ails you today? You’re mooning around like a lovesick fool.”

Walt stared into the flames. “Maybe I want more than just getting off.” He inclined his head toward the boss’s tent.

“Maybe I want what they’ve got. Or Butch ‘n’ Sol.

Seems like every girl I date sees wedding rings as soon as I open my mouth, and every guy sees me as another notch on his bedpost, and then the next morning—if I’m lucky and it isn’t as soon as he’s zipped up his pants—it’s adios, amigo. ”

“And you want somewhere in between?”

He nodded. “I’m not sure I ever want to get married—unless someone comes along and changes my mind. There’s always that possibility, right? But I want more than a roll in the hay.”

Zeeb smirked. “You know what Butch says about that.”

He laughed. “Yeah, make sure you’ve got a couple of thick blankets under you because that shit gets everywhere.” Walt returned his gaze to the fire. “And what about you?”

Zeeb blinked. “What about me?”

“When did you last go on a date?”

He shrugged. “Can’t say I remember.” It had been a while, he knew that much.

Walt stared at the boss’s tent. “He’s happier than I’ve ever seen him.”

Zeeb couldn’t deny that. Robert had been given a second chance, and he’d seized it with both hands.

“And Butch… Lord, he’s like a different person since he and Sol got together.”

He peered at Walt. “You goin’ somewhere with this?”

“You bet I am.” Walt locked gazes with him. “We all deserve happiness. Maybe it’s your time to find some.”

Zeeb grinned. “We talking happiness—or romance? Who says I’m looking for that?”

Walt stood. “You’re not fooling me, Zeeb Nolan. You’re just like the rest of us. You wanna be loved.” He smiled. “And now I’ll go put a burr up Matt’s ass and make sure he’s working on the supper. His guitar can wait.” He sauntered off in the direction of Matt’s wagon.

Zeeb stared after him. Where does he get these ideas?

Zeeb never talked about such things. Ever. Hell, he’d worked on the Salvation ranch for twelve years, and he was only recently beginning to understand and accept he had another side to his nature, one he’d buried for the longest time.

One he didn’t talk about.

He knew his fellow ranch hands would be cool about it, but for fuck’s sake, he was more than that. It didn’t define who he was as a person. It was simply a small part of what made him Zeeb.

The times they are a’changin’, though. And those changes had been fast. These days, everyone wanted to talk about their sexuality.

Everyone except Zeeb, it seemed. Sure, he made comments, kept everyone guessing about him, but most of the time it was a smokescreen.

Hell, one time he’d even told the boss the thought had crossed his mind once or twice to have him a bromance.

Shit, the look on the boss’s face.

Then there’d been the time Zeeb had told Sol and the others that he was a late bloomer, and that he might be up for a little experimentation—not Sol’s line, however. Zeeb had seen enough to know kink was not his bag.

Hey, each to his own, right? We can’t all like the same things . And if Sol and the other leather-clad guests were happy to live their lives that way, more power to them.

Two years since Deliverance had first opened its doors to the BDSM community—and anyone interested in learning more about it—and it was going well. Bookings were solid. The guests were varied, all ages, all sizes, all professions.

It was all good.

Things had changed in Bozeman, however, and not just there but a few other towns north of the ranch too. And that was not good.

There was nothing too obvious, too extreme, but more and more, Zeeb was starting to notice an atmosphere.

Word had gotten out about Deliverance. Of course it had.

Keeping something that big a secret? Never gonna happen.

At first, nothing was said. Most of the guests who stayed in the Leather Barn didn’t go into town.

There was no need. And those who did had enough sense to leave their leathers at the ranch, going sort of incognito.

But every time Zeeb or one of the other hands ventured out, there seemed to be more folks who stared, who sneered.

And who clearly didn’t give a fuck about letting their true feelings show.

Everyone had gotten bolder all of a sudden, and it didn’t feel good.

Zeeb gave himself a shake and pushed such thoughts way down deep. His mind went to Walt’s words, and he frowned.

What does he know? I am happy, dammit. I’ve got no need to feel sorry for myself. I’m not after romance. I’m not hankering to settle down.

If he needed to get laid, there were opportunities available, enough to satisfy any man.

Not that he broadcast his sex life. Zeeb hated the fact that he’d met women with whom he’d thought maybe something might have developed, but then he discovered they were married.

He cut that off quick. He understood if they weren’t getting what they needed at home, then of course they’d go to look elsewhere, but it wouldn’t be with Zeeb.

All the same, he was lucky if he got laid twice in one year. And another thing about those casual flings—they didn’t fill the empty spaces in his life.

He glanced at the horizon, redder than before.

Maybe there was a change coming.

Whether he wanted it or not.

“Hey, Zeeb? Walt says we might see a shooting star tonight,” Dempsey called out.

Zeeb chuckled. “He says that every time we bring guests here. There’s nothing on the calendar for this month, but we do get a stray one occasionally.”

“Then I’m going to keep my fingers crossed we see one,” Haskins said as he came closer to the fire. “And then I’ll make a wish.”

“What’ll you wish for?”

Haskins gave a grim smile. “That we don’t get any wolves trying to take down any of the cattle. And us.”

Zeeb laughed. “I think you’ll be safe enough.” He stared up at the sky. The stars wouldn’t put in an appearance for a while yet.

And if you do see a shooting star? What would you wish for?

He smiled. He had no wish to become a millionaire—they all seemed miserable as fuck despite their bank balance. He didn’t want to be famous. Lord knew, there were plenty of people chasing that dream, and they could keep it.

Is there anything I want? Anything I need?

Then it came to him, and Zeeb realized he did want a change after all. Despite Walt’s age—he’d only reached thirty, for God’s sake—he was more astute than Zeeb gave him credit for.

I’d wish for something real.

Someone to come home to.