Page 16 of Captivated (Salvation #3)

Chapter Fifteen

“So how’s Nate doing?” Walt asked before helping himself to the last of the home fries.

Zeeb finished his mouthful of eggs, then poured himself another cup of coffee. “So far, so good.” He’d been riding around the paddock the past two days, and each session lasted a little longer. Nate wasn’t exactly brimming with confidence, but that would come.

He hoped.

“You know what I think?” Teague’s eyes sparkled. “There’s no such person. This is all a ruse. Zeeb gets an extra breakfast, an extra dinner, he spends the day sitting on the cabin porch, reading his Kindle, feet up, a cold beer in his hand…”

Zeeb knew Teague was teasing, but it still rankled.

“So you think I’m bein’ lazy? Is that it?”

Paul chuckled. “Sorry, Teague, but I’ve seen Nate. He’s as real as you or I.”

Teague folded his arms. “Prove it. Invite him to the cookout on Sunday, for Diana’s birthday. The boss won’t mind that. We’re all going.”

It was tempting to say yes, Nate would be there, but Zeeb knew better.

“Zeeb? You did say he’s doing okay, didn’t ya?” Walt filled his coffee cup.

Zeeb let out a sigh. “Guys, I… Look, he’s got some trust issues, all right?

And you can’t build that in a few days.” He took a drink, then glanced at the three guests.

“We get all kinds of people comin’ to Salvation.

Some of ’em are like you guys, here to chill, ride, enjoy the scenery…

But now and again we get people stayin’ here who bring a lot of baggage.

They’re the quiet ones, the guests who seem kinda lost, even broken sometimes.

And all we can do is give ’em what they need—space to breathe, time, an ear if they need one.

” He met Teague’s gaze. “Nate is one of the quiet ones. Real quiet. An’ not the kind born of shyness, either. ”

Nate’s was the kind that came from having too many words twisted in the past. Zeeb had seen it before.

He wears silence like a shield.

Zeeb had the feeling he’d said too much.

He pushed his chair back and stood. “Okay, time I was outta here. I gotta go pick up our guest that don’t exist so he can go for a ride.” He grinned at Teague.

“I think he’s ready for a trail,” Paul commented. “See how he feels.”

Zeeb had had the same idea. “If today goes well, then yeah, I’ll put it to him.” He gave a nod to the guests, grabbed his hat, and strolled out of the bunkhouse. He climbed behind the wheel of the truck, and backed out of the parking space, heading for the lane that led to the cabin.

What he wasn’t about to share was how useless he felt.

Nate hadn’t offered anything about his history, not yet. That wasn’t a problem, but it was a weight Zeeb kept feeling. Something hidden between the lines of what Nate didn’t say. The way he flinched even slightly at casual touch, how he always scanned the stable before stepping in.

Like he was preparing for something.

Bracing himself.

I’m not sure this is working out. Because whatever Nate was running from hadn’t stopped chasing him because he’d saddled up.

And he is running from something . Zeeb was certain about that.

He just didn’t know what.

I want to help him.

It was a desire born not out of his duty to his job, to the boss, but out of his growing interest in Nate.

The more time Zeeb spent around him, the more he liked him.

There were moments when he got a brief glimpse of the man behind the mask, the snatches of humor, the light in his eyes—before shadows rolled across, obliterating it.

When he wasn’t with Nate, he was thinking about him.

I want to bring some light into his world.

The saddle didn’t feel like a foreign object today. That was new.

Sunlight spilled across the dusty paddock, catching on the flecks in Sorrel’s coat. The horse flicked an ear back toward him, patient as ever, and Nate exhaled slowly, copying the calming breath Zeeb had shown him.

Not for the first time, he wondered how the man knew to be quiet when quiet was needed. No poking, no prying, just steady hands and a calm voice.

Sorrel shifted under him, and Nate let his legs move with the motion, more relaxed this time. Less like he was about to fall off a ledge.

God, the thought almost made him smile.

Maybe this is how it’s supposed to feel.

“You’re sitting deeper in the saddle,” Zeeb called out from his position at the rail. “You feel that?”

Nate nodded, one hand adjusting the reins. “Yeah. Doesn’t feel like I’m gonna slide off anymore.”

“That’s because you’re starting to trust him,” Zeeb said.

You need to trust me, Nathaniel. I’m here to help you.

Nate shivered.

Trust was earned. Trust had teeth. He’d learned that the hard way.

He pushed the thought aside and glanced at Zeeb leaning on the fence, his hat pulled low, a thermos in one hand.

Watching, not judging.

Nate didn’t know what to do with that kind of attention. He only knew having Zeeb around was getting to feel more and more comfortable. That had to be a good thing, right?

Then why does it scare the crap out of me?

There was a rhythm coming into Nate’s ride now. Not just in the gait, though Sorrel was pacing steady as a metronome, but in Nate himself. The stiffness apparent in his first sessions had melted a little. The lines in his shoulders weren’t quite so sharp.

It was a good sign. Zeeb didn’t let himself get too comfortable with good signs, however.

We still have a long way to go.

“Take him up to a trot if you’re ready.” Zeeb kept his tone light.

Nate hesitated, then nudged Sorrel forward. The horse responded immediately, smooth and willing.

Zeeb watched Nate’s expression. No fear this time, but a little concentration, a little joy.

Good.

But as Nate circled around again, Zeeb caught a look, fleeting, but there. The smile he’d been wearing faltered, if only for a breath. As though the past had walked up behind him and whispered in his ear.

What demons are chasing you?

Nate walked Sorrel into the stable, but instead of leaving him in his stall, he stood next to the horse, stroking his mane, telling him what a good job he’d done.

Sorrel was still warm under his hand, and the stable felt calm.

The air smelled like hay and dust and horses, and there was something steadying about it.

Like the world wasn’t going to break open under him.

It felt safe .

Nate rubbed Sorrel’s neck, slow and rhythmic, and the motion soothed him.

“You like him,” came Zeeb’s voice from the other side of the stall door.

Nate flinched, not badly, but enough. He hadn’t heard Zeeb come in. “Yeah, I do.”

Zeeb leaned on the post, his arms folded. “Didn’t mean to spook you.”

“It’s fine.” Nate knew he’d spoken quickly.

Too quickly, perhaps.

Silence fell, but for once it was comfortable. Zeeb said nothing.

He never pushes.

Nate hated how that made him want to say something.

“He listens,” Nate said at last, his hand stilling on Sorrel’s neck. “The horse, I mean. He doesn’t pretend to, he just… does.”

Zeeb nodded. “That’s a gift, you know. Most folks listen to answer. Horses just listen to feel.”

Nate swallowed. “People say they care. That they’re helping. But they don’t see you. They just want you to fit back in the right shape.”

His voice shook a little at the end.

That was too much. I shouldn’t have said it.

Zeeb didn’t react, at least not in the way Nate feared. No pity in those expressive eyes. No leaning in.

“Sounds as if someone tried to put you in the wrong shape.” There was no pity in Zeeb’s voice either, and he didn’t move from his spot.

Nate didn’t speak. Couldn’t.

But he didn’t run either.

Because this was Zeeb, and being around him made Nate feel safe.

Something in Zeeb wanted to ask what shape someone had tried to force Nate into. All his instincts told him Nate wasn’t ready to talk yet, but he was reaching, and Zeeb would be damned if he misstepped and scared him off.

We’ve gotten this far. Don’t fuck it up.

“You did good today,” Zeeb observed.

Nate glanced at him. “Really?”

“Ask yourself the same question. Did you feel more confident?”

Nate bit his lip. “I guess so.”

Zeeb beamed. “See? Next question. Did you enjoy it?”

This time Nate’s reply came a little faster. “Yes.”

“Okay. Final question. Do you feel up to goin’ for a ride outside the ranch? A trail?”

“You’d go with me?”

He nodded. “You bet. And we’d start off easy, maybe a ride to the meadow.” Zeeb couldn’t escape the feeling that with Nate, it was one step forward, three steps back. One minute he’d seem more confident, and the next, he’d retreat behind those damn walls again.

The answers that would explain it all lay hidden from sight.

“Zeeb…” Nate paused. “Thank you.”

He blinked. “For what?”

Nate flushed. “You’ve been really patient with me. I know I’ve been here five days, but I don’t seem to have made a lot of progress.”

Zeeb smiled. “You don’t give yourself enough credit.” Teague’s suggestion came to mind, and his heartbeat raced. “I’ve got an idea. You don’t have to say yes, but at least think about it.”

Nate arched his eyebrows. “What’s the idea?”

“The boss’s sister, Diana, is coming here on Sunday. It’s her birthday, and we’re havin’ a cookout up at the big house. That means steaks, chicken, hot dogs, burgers, more potato salad than you’ve ever seen in your entire life…”

That brought him an unexpected chuckle.

“You’re welcome to join us.” Zeeb held his hand up.

“I know you say you don’t do people, and you don’t have to stay.

But you could grab some food, say hi to the boss, and then split.

” He peered at Nate. “If that feels like too much of a challenge, then ignore me. But everyone on this ranch? They’re also my family, the kind of family I never imagined having.

They’re open, acceptin’, an’ while yes, some of ’em are a little rough around the edges, they’re all good people.

Kind. Generous.” Zeeb took a breath. “Like I said, you don’t have to say yes. I’m just puttin’ it out there.”

Nate studied him for a moment, then smiled. “Thank you for the invitation.”

Zeeb figured that was as much as he was going to get. “Well, all right then.” He pointed to Sorrel. “How about we give him a good brushing?”

Nate nodded and began to unfasten the saddle. As he lifted it off, Zeeb grabbed the blanket, and their hands brushed.

What shocked him was that Nate didn’t flinch.

“So what do you wanna do with the rest of your day?”

Nate didn’t hesitate. “Can we go back to the lake? I want to do some more on the drawing.”

Zeeb beamed. “Sure.” Then he stilled. “Does that mean I’m drawing too?”

To his delight, Nate smiled. “Why yes, it does.”

Lord, what I wouldn’t do to keep that smile there.