Page 27 of Captivated (Salvation #3)

Chapter Twenty-Five

Paul pushed back his chair and stood. “I’m going to the stables.” He glanced at Nate. “Want to come with me and help me groom the horses?”

Walt chuckled. “Watch out, Nate. You do know how many horses this ranch has, right? Tie him down to a number before you get started.”

Nate smiled. “He could have me grooming all of them and I wouldn’t complain.” He gave Zeeb a nod.

Zeeb gestured to his cup. “I’m gonna grab another cuppa coffee and I’ll be with you.” He waited until the bunkhouse door closed behind them before sagging into his chair.

I did not see that coming. Nate had taken the wind from his sails, and then some.

“I didn’t expect to see Nate here.” Sol gazed at the door. “Was it his decision?”

Zeeb nodded. “One hundred percent. You could’ve knocked me down with a feather when he said it.”

Sol’s face glowed. “Good for him.”

“Zeeb…” Dave stared across the table at him. “That didn’t sound good.”

Sol helped himself to coffee. “Have I missed something?” Zeeb repeated Nate’s words, and Sol’s eyebrows shot up. “He actually said that?” He gave Zeeb such an obvious look of approval and admiration that Zeeb’s face grew hot.

“Hey, I ain’t takin’ the credit for anything. This is all Nate’s doing, pure ‘n’ simple.” He frowned. “Except there’s nothing simple about any of this. Truth be told, it curdles my stomach.”

Teague stared at him with wide eyes. “Now I feel like I’ve missed something.”

Before Zeeb could come back with a response, Sol intervened. “To be honest, we shouldn’t really be discussing this while Nate isn’t present. And please, don’t ask him any questions. The day may come when he’ll tell you his story, but that isn’t this day.”

Zeeb rose. “Think I’ll go see how many horses he’s groomed.”

“I’ll come with you.” Sol glanced at Butch. “Save me some breakfast?”

Butch’s eyes gleamed. “What’s my reward gonna be?” Sol bent down and whispered in his ear, and Butch’s cheeks seemed to be on fire. He spluttered coffee onto the wooden tabletop.

Teague snickered. “Whatever he said, I don’t wanna know. I’m an innocent.”

Butch guffawed. “You might wanna rethink that last statement, given the present comp’ny. They know way too much about you.”

“Well, judging by how red your face is, I think I need to take lessons from Sol. I don’t think I can even come close to that level of dirty talk.”

Sol grinned. “My door is always open. Bring a notebook.”

Zeeb shook his head and headed for the door, Sol right behind him. Outside, the temperature was already climbing. It was going to be another hot one, and the prospect made Zeeb long for the cooling waters of the lake.

“I got your message.” Sol put on his hat as they strolled toward the stable. “Butch said you spent the night at the cabin.”

“Nate asked. I said yes. And if me being there kept the nightmares at bay, then I’d do it again in a heartbeat.” Zeeb scowled. “Sol, I swear, I’ve never wanted to kill a living soul, but if I ever get my hands on those fuckers…”

Sol laid a hand on his arm. “He’s gotten the ball rolling. That’s an achievement. So if you can get him to open up some more without actually asking him to do it, that would be awesome.”

Zeeb let out a rough chuckle. “You don’t want much, do you?” He sighed. “I’ll do my best. But if it gets too heavy, I might be the one needin’ therapy when he’s done.”

No matter how onerous the task threatened to be, he aimed to be there for Nate, no pushing, no pressure.

Nate’s had more than his fair share of that.

Zeeb ambled into the large stable that smelled of hay and horses. Paul was at the far end, grooming Toby’s horse, Lightning.

Nate was brushing Sorrel’s coat with firm strokes, and as Zeeb approached, he caught Nate’s murmurs.

He rubbed his hand over Sorrel’s nose. “I know I’m calm, because you are.

” He smiled. “You’re my emotional mirror, aren’t you?

You’re my thermometer. You show what my emotional temperature is.

” He turned his head as Zeeb approached, and his smile widened.

“Are you listening in on a private conversation?”

“I keep telling you, one of these days, he’ll answer back.”

Nate chuckled. “I’d love to know what goes on in the mind of a horse.

” He stroked Sorrel’s mane. “But what I get is non-verbal feedback, and it’s just as good as words.

If he’s agitated, that means I am too.” He smiled.

“It took me a whole week to work that out, but you’ve been saying it from day one.

I guess I wasn’t really listening.” His gaze met Zeeb’s. “I am now.”

Nate’s expression spoke of gratitude, but there was something else.

Trust.

Zeeb stood on the other side of Sorrel, running his hand over the horse’s smooth flank. “In case I forget to tell you, what you just did in there? That took courage. But what I’d love to know is what brought you to it. What changed?”

Nate put the brush down. “I figured if I had the guts to drive eight or nine hours to confront a pair of strangers to tell them what I thought of them, then breakfast with a bunch of cowboys was nothing to be scared of.” He wiped his damp brow. “Is it me, or is it hot in here?”

Zeeb snickered. “Today’s gonna be a scorcher. You might wanna reconsider not visitin’ the lake. I reckon it’ll be the only way we’ll get through the day.”

Nate scraped his fingers through his hair. “You might be right. I could take my painting and work on that. At least there’s shade up there under the trees.”

Zeeb grinned. “And besides, I wanna get my own back for that dunkin’ you gave me last time.”

Nate chuckled. “Okay, you’ve sold me. Let me go back to the cabin and collect my gear, and then we can go.” He grinned. “Not forgetting a towel, of course.”

“I’ll raid the kitchen for munchies and apples.” Zeeb glanced at Paul. “We’re gonna take Bailey an’ Sorrel out.”

Paul nodded. “I’ll get them ready for you.”

Zeeb tipped his hat at Paul, then left the stable.

As he walked toward the bunkhouse, he thought about Sol’s advice.

If Nate doesn’t wanna talk, that’s fine. Sure, he said he wanted to, but a man’s allowed to change his mind, isn’t he?

Except Zeeb knew better.

There’s no stoppin’ this train, not now.

Nate paused for a moment to inhale the scent of pine.

“This was a good idea.” It was cool under the trees, but the lake kept throwing out invitations for him to submerge his body in cold water, and Nate knew he’d succumb eventually.

Zeeb joined Nate on his boulder, still clutching his Kindle, and leaned over to peer at his sketchpad. “That’s beautiful.”

Nate flushed. “Thanks, but it isn’t finished yet.” He peered at the Kindle. “No drawing today?”

Zeeb huffed. “I don’t think I’m in the right frame of mind for it.”

He sighed. “That happens sometimes.”

“You said you do illustrations? What kinda things do you do?”

He put his paintbrush down. “Usually whatever I’m asked. I can turn my hand to most subjects—landscape, figures, you name it.”

“I bet you were the best in your class at school.”

His face grew tight. “I didn’t study it at school. Then again, it wasn’t an ordinary school, and art was frowned upon.” It wasn’t seen as a manly pursuit. Instead, Nate was pushed into sports.

He hated them with a passion.

He washed his brush in the glass jar filled with water from the lake. Then he realized Zeeb had lapsed into silence.

Nate gave him an inquiring glance. Zeeb was staring out at the lake, his brow furrowed, his Kindle forgotten.

It didn’t take a genius to know where Zeeb’s head was at.

“It’s okay,” Nate said in a low voice. Zeeb turned to look at him, and Nate smiled. “Ask your questions. The ones that have been piling up ever since last night.”

Zeeb remained quiet, but that was okay too. He had a way of making silence feel safe.

“I used to talk,” Nate told him. “A lot. When I was a little kid, I used to laugh until my stomach hurt, make up stories, even sing sometimes.” Zeeb’s eyes focused on him, and Nate sighed once more. “They took it out of me. The camp. My dad.”

“Can I stop you for a sec? ’Cause I get confused sometimes when you talk about your dad. You have two now, remember? So how about we use Dad and Derek? Makes things a helluva lot easier.”

He nodded. “That makes sense.”

“Okay, back to where you said they took it out of you.”

Nate stilled. “Every time I opened my mouth, I was either punished or corrected.” He blinked hard, his jaw tight. “I think I forgot how to be a person.”

Zeeb shifted slightly, just enough that their shoulders almost touched. “You didn’t forget. You’re still here.”

It wasn’t pity that laced his words, but certainty, warm and steady, and Nate liked the way it made him feel.

Like I’m here. I’m real. Valued.

Zeeb was damn good at that.

He cocked his head to one side. “Why are you like this?”

Zeeb quirked a brow. “Like what?”

“Kind. Patient. Like you actually give a damn.”

His gentle smile felt like sunshine. “Because I do give a damn.”

Silence stretched between them again, but this one felt different, not tense, not suffocating, but full of….

Expectation.

“You’re easy to be quiet with.” That was a gift few people possessed in Nate’s experience.

Zeeb glanced over, his smile soft. “That’s a helluva compliment.”

“It is,” Nate said. “For me.”

There was a pause before Zeeb replied. “I know.” Another pause. “Something I have to ask about that camp…”

Nate arched his eyebrows. “Only one thing?” Despite the fluttering in his stomach, his lips twitched.

Zeeb blinked, then chuckled. “You’re right.

I have a heap of questions. Top of the list is…

what kind of people run places like that?

Apart from the obvious, because I can imagine there being a few pastors or ministers or some kind of religious people.

They’re usually the ones who get their panties in a wad over what folks do in the privacy of their bedrooms.”

Sanctuary Hill had had its share of those.

Nate forgot about his painting. This was more important.