Page 34 of Captivated (Salvation #3)

Chapter Thirty

Nate leaned on the rail, his gaze focused on the pony in the paddock, standing as far away from Paul as it was possible to get. Paul made no attempt to approach it, but spent his time cleaning and oiling a saddle.

The sight of the pony made Nate’s chest ache. It was thin enough he could see its spine protruding. Any movement was lethargic. Its coat was dull, its eyes glassy.

Poor thing.

“Is it a boy or a girl?” he asked Zeeb who stood next to him.

“Boy. He’s a colt—he still has all his bits ‘n’ pieces.”

“Does he have a name?”

Zeeb snorted. “From what Robert said, no one paid him enough attention to bother to name him.” He scowled. “I guess the only attention he got was the wrong kind, or maybe they just neglected the fuck out of him.”

Paul came over to them. “Hey Nate. I think you should come up with a name for him.”

“Me?”

He smiled. “Why not? I’m usually the one who does that, but I don’t mind giving someone else the honor for a change.”

Nate looked the pony up and down. The most noticeable thing about him was his coloring. It was a warm, light brown shade that reminded Nate of?—

He smiled. “Butterscotch. He’s the same color as the butterscotch pudding my mom used to make when I was little.”

Paul beamed. “I like that.” He glanced over in the pony’s direction. “Hey, beautiful. You have a name now. Pleased to meet you, Butterscotch.”

Nate watched as Butterscotch tossed his head back, stamping his hoof on the dusty ground. “How long do you think it will take him to settle in?”

“In his state?” Paul shrugged. “At least a week, but probably longer. Sometimes it can take a horse between six months and a year to fully settle.” He gazed at Butterscotch. “All I can do right now is provide him with fresh food and water, and give him his safe space.”

“The boss said you had some difficulty getting him into the horse trailer,” Zeeb remarked.

Paul sighed. “It was the sight of the halter that did it. I won’t be taking one anywhere near him for a while.”

“So how do you even start to work with him?”

Zeeb chuckled. “You should see Paul when he gets a horse that doesn’t trust humans.

He strolls into the paddock, and just stands there.

Doesn’t move, doesn’t even look at the horse.

Just plain ignores it. Then he walks away.

He does that over and over again, and eventually the horse gets curious an’ comes over to him.

Then after that, it follows him. It’s a beautiful thing to watch. ”

“Thank you, by the way.” Paul’s eyes twinkled.

“For all your hard work this afternoon. The stable and barns look amazing.” His face lit up.

“Did Teague tell you? Friday night, he’s organizing a campfire for the hands and the guests.

I think the boss and Toby are coming too.

And Sol, of course.” He smiled. “Can’t have Butch without Sol. ”

“Teague does that sometimes, ’specially on the last night,” Zeeb told Nate. “Beer, hot dogs, s’mores, toasted marshmallows… Matt brings his guitar too.”

Nate smiled. “That sounds great.”

A wonderful note to end on.

That last thought gave him a pang. I don’t want to leave. This place is…

Special.

Nate took a moment to take in his surroundings.

The sun was on course to dip low behind the distant mountains, casting long shadows across the land and bathing the sprawling ranch in a golden light, soft and amber.

The wind, warm and dusted with the scent of sagebrush and dry grass, whispered its way between the barns, carrying with it the faintest trace of the horses’ musk, along with a mixture of earth and leather.

The birds had fallen silent, and somewhere off in the distance, a lone wolf called, its voice rising and falling in the evening air.

The sounds of the ranch were quieter: the occasional snort of a horse and the soft murmur of voices drifting from the bunkhouse, morphing now and then into raucous laughter shattering the reverence of the evening.

It felt as though time had been suspended in the stillness of the ranch and the fading light of a long day.

“You okay?” Zeeb nudged him. “You seem a little tired.”

His voice broke Nate’s focus, pulling him into the moment. It was then Nate became aware of his aching muscles.

It had been a long day.

“Yeah, I am.” It was almost supper time, and from the bunkhouse wafted the delicious aroma of roasted chicken, herbs, garlic, freshly baked bread….

Nate’s stomach growled, and Zeeb cackled. “Guess I don’t have to ask if you’re ready to eat. ’Cause I’m so hungry I could eat my truck.”

He laughed. “Only with a lot of ketchup.”

“You go on in.” Paul gestured toward Butterscotch. “I’ll see to our new arrival.”

Nate and Zeeb headed for the bunkhouse, walking slowly despite their hunger, and Nate had the impression Zeeb also wanted to drink in the sight of Salvation at sunset.

And he gets to see this every day.

Nate paused at the door. “Where are you sleeping tonight?” he asked in a low voice.

Zeeb didn’t chuckle or make light of Nate’s question, but regarded him for a moment. “Where do you want me to sleep?”

Nate’s heartbeat quickened. “Do you have to ask?”

Zeeb smiled, his face glowing in the warm light. “That’s settled, then.” He let out a wry chuckle. “It’s a helluva lot quieter in your cabin.”

And is that the only reason why you’re sleeping there?

Nate’s stomach clenched. The thought forced him to face a truth he’d avoided the past two nights.

He wanted Zeeb there, and not just because the warmth of Zeeb’s body curled around him, his hand pressed to Nate’s chest, and the sound of his breathing had ushered him into a deep, nightmare-less sleep. Even the occasional snore was a gentle reminder that Nate was safe.

No, it was way more than that.

Zeeb’s consistent presence, his calm nature, his unwavering support… All those things had come together to create an environment where Nate felt safe and secure.

Secure enough to confront emotions he’d never experienced before.

To make him want to step into unknown territory.

Zeeb let out a contented sigh. “Matt makes the best fried chicken.” He eyed the last piece sitting on the plate.

There was always room for a little more.

He reached for it, and his hand collided with Nate’s. Zeeb narrowed his gaze. “I’ll arm wrestle you for it.”

Nate withdrew, laughing. “You’d win.”

“Aw, give him the damn chicken,” Butch groused. “He’s earned it today.”

He had a point.

Zeeb picked the plate up and tipped the chicken onto Nate’s. “It’s all yours.”

Nate’s smile was the perfect thank you.

“You’ve been busy, Nate,” Walt commented. “Mucking out the stables, helping mend fences… Maybe we should give you a job.” His eyes gleamed. “I’m sure Zeeb wouldn’t mind having you around a bit longer.”

It could’ve been an innocent remark, but Zeeb doubted that. He knew how his fellow hands’ minds worked. He fired Walt a hard stare.

Walt ignored it.

Nate smiled. “I wasn’t so useful with the fence. Zeeb could’ve coped just fine without me.” He rubbed his shoulder. “I might not have done all that much today but I sure ache all over.”

“Get Zeeb to give you a rubdown.” Walt grinned. “He’s got great hands.”

And there was that gleam again.

Judging by the glint in Teague’s eye, he’d noticed too, except he looked as if he was trying not to laugh. Butch watched the proceedings with obvious amusement.

“I wouldn’t want to impose.” Nate glanced at Zeeb. “If anyone needs a rubdown, it’s Zeeb, after all that hammering and shoveling.”

Zeeb resisted the urge to give Walt a smug smile. Nate was clearly oblivious to Walt’s attempts at stirring the pot, even if everyone else knew exactly what Walt was up to.

He wiped his lips. “You ready to go to the cabin?”

Before God knows what else comes outta Walt’s mouth.

Nate nodded, pushing his chair back. “I think I might have an early night.”

“Does that mean you’re gonna have one too?” Teague’s lips twitched as he met Zeeb’s gaze.

Fuck ’em. Let ’em think what they like. Thoughts can’t hurt me.

“I might at that,” he drawled. He waited while Nate grabbed his hat. Then Zeeb picked his own up and held the door open for him.

Outside the night air was cool, the sky cloudless.

Zeeb gestured to it. “I hope Teague’s campfire comes off. I saw the forecast. Looks as if there could be a storm heading our way.” He snorted. “Not that those weather guys can predict shit if it’s more ’n a day ahead.” He waited to see if Nate made any reference to the recent conversation.

Nate stared at the sky. “I always feel so small when I look at the stars. When I recall the Milky Way is our view of the edge of the galaxy.”

And that right there was Nate, his mind not in the gutter but fixed on the heavens.

“Want me to take my truck? Might as well, if I’m stayin’.” He peered at Nate. “If I am still stayin’.”

Zeeb wasn’t going to assume a goddamn thing.

Nate’s smile was all kinds of shy. “If you don’t mind. I… I sleep better when you’re there.”

Which was all the incentive Zeeb needed.

Nate sat on the couch, the aroma of hot chocolate filling the air.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he protested. “I’m more than capable.”

“Hush. Least I can do after all you’ve done today.” Zeeb ambled over, carrying two cups he set down on the coffee table.

The wind whispered outside, rustling the trees, and now and then an owl hooted.

Every single muscle throbbed, and there was a dull roar of ache from neck to spine to thighs.

“How do you do this every day?” Nate mused.

“Do what?”

“All this manual work. I feel like hell.”

“You look like hell.” A smile tugged at the corner of Zeeb’s mouth.

Nate let out a rough chuckle, then winced. “Thanks for that. Please, don’t make me laugh.”

Zeeb sat beside him on the couch, his gaze focused on Nate. Silence stretched out between them, lasting maybe a little too long.

As though we’re both waiting for something to happen.

Zeeb cocked his head. “Walt had the right idea, y’know.”

“Which idea?”

“I could give you a rub.” He placed one calloused hand on Nate’s shoulder, the weight firm and grounding. “Might help.”

Nate stilled, his heartbeat quickening.

“You don’t have to.” The words came out as a croak.

“I know I don’t.” Zeeb paused. “But I want to.”

When he fell silent again, Nate knew he was waiting for consent.

“Go for it.”

Zeeb grabbed a cushion and dropped it to the floor in front of him. “Park your butt there.”

Nate chuckled. “Anyone ever tell you you’ve got a real way with words?”

He snickered. “Not that I recall.”

Nate slipped off the couch and sat cross-legged on the cushion, his hands clasped in his lap

And with that, Zeeb began.

He pressed his thumbs into the tight knots at the base of Nate’s neck, slow and sure. His hands were rough, callused from work, but steady. The pressure was just right, painful but in a good way, the kind that promised release.

Nate expelled his breath in a long exhale, dropping his head forward.

“Oh dear God,” he muttered. “I didn’t know I was carrying all that.”

Zeeb didn’t answer, but kept working, sliding his hands down the ridges of Nate’s shoulder blades, then lower, his fingers kneading the broad plain of Nate’s back.

When he paused, Nate twisted to look at him. “You’re not done, are you?”

“Your shirt’s in the way.” Zeeb moved his thumbs lightly down Nate’s spine. “You should take it off. It’ll feel better without it.”

Nate hesitated, but only for a moment. Zeeb had seen him naked, for God’s sake. He reached for the hem, pulled the sweat-stained tee over his head, and tossed it aside.

The room was so quiet, Nate couldn’t even hear Zeeb’s breathing.

Then his hands returned, bare skin on bare skin this time, and the difference hit him instantly. Nate inhaled sharply through his nose, and Zeeb’s hands slowed, his touch more careful. Each pass of his palm seemed to linger a little longer than it should, tracing the dips and curves of Nate’s back.

Don’t stop.

The warmth of Nate’s body beneath his hands was addictive, as was the feel of smooth flesh, the smell of him that lingered in Zeeb’s nostrils.

Fuck . This was something new, a sensation he wanted more of.

“You always run this hot?” Zeeb kept his voice low, trying for lightness.

“Only when someone’s got their hands all over me,” Nate blurted.

The air felt charged, prickling the skin on Zeeb’s arms. He let his hands still, resting them on Nate’s lower back, his breathing ragged.

Then he realized Nate’s breathing matched his own.

Zeeb’s heart pounded.

“I ain’t tryin’ to start nothin’,” he said quietly.

Nate faced away from him, staring at the fireplace. “Maybe it’s already started.” His low voice shook.

Zeeb tensed his hands for a second, then relaxed.

“Yeah. Maybe it has,” he murmured.

He couldn’t get away from the idea that the pair of them were balanced on the edge of something. Nate didn’t move, and Zeeb didn’t pull away.

Whatever that something was, Zeeb wasn’t ready to name it. Especially if doing so would destroy what they’d built so far.

Nate’s doin’ just fine. Don’t spoil it. Don’t do anything that would set him back.

Finally, he removed his hands. “Better drink your hot chocolate before it goes cold.”

Nate’s voice wasn’t the only one with a tremor in it.

Nate stood. “Be right back.” Then he headed for the bathroom.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Zeeb sagged into the couch.

Why the fuck did I offer to do that?

He hadn’t been prepared for the intimacy of the act, the way touching Nate had made him feel. The heat it created inside him.

Lord, I could’ve done that for hours.

The prospect of sleeping curled around Nate’s body, feeling his warmth, listening to the cadences of his breathing…

It was going to be a long night.

Then he looked at the front of his pants.

Apparently a long, hard night.