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Page 9 of Captivated (Salvation #3)

He fell silent as the trail headed into the woods, the canopy above them blotting out the sunlight for the most part, filtering through in spots, bright patches on the leaf-covered ground. Tall, slim trunks rose high into the sky, and there were fallen trees at intervals.

A musky, earthy kind of smell filled the air, and Nate breathed it in. After about twenty minutes, the trail started to slope downward, and the air grew fresher.

It wasn’t long before they emerged at the lake, its shores lined with trees.

Nate’s breath caught in his throat. “This is beautiful.” The water was crystal clear, calm, reflecting the tree line and the sky.

“Pick yourself a spot,” Zeeb instructed. “I’ve got blankets in the wagon for us to sit on. I’ll lead the horses down to the water’s edge to take a drink, then I’ll give ’em a treat before I tie ’em up.”

Nate got down from the wagon and wandered toward the lake. The view before him lent itself perfectly to watercolors: all he had to do was find the best place from which to capture it.

He strolled around the water’s edge for a while, soaking up the early afternoon sun, so warm on his shoulders. The only sounds were the trees moving gently in the breeze and the ripple of the water over the rocks around the lake.

Then Nate found his spot.

The tree line dipped from left and right, framing the lake, and beyond were the mountains, their rugged peaks captured in the water.

“Here,” he called out to Zeeb.

“I’ll bring the gear over.”

Nate sat on a large boulder, drinking in the sight, letting the peace and quiet wash over him. When Zeeb appeared, Nate smiled.

“You’re a lucky man. You have all this on your doorstep.”

“You know it.” Zeeb placed the blankets on Nate’s rock, then gazed out across the lake. “This is usually the first trail we take the guests on, ’cause it ain’t that difficult, and the views are awesome.” He glanced at the lake shore. “Where do you want the easel?”

Nate pointed to a flattish spot between the trees and the lake. “There, I think.” His head would be in shade, which was a bonus.

Then it hit him.

Nate shook his head. “My dad is a sneaky one.”

“What makes him sneaky?”

“When I paint, I work from photos. I make quick trips to take them, then I print them. I haven’t ever done a landscape from real life. And I think this was part of dad’s plan to get me out of the house and into the great outdoors.”

Then he registered Zeeb had fallen silent.

Nate turned his head to find Zeeb smiling.

“Something I said? Or is it just the view that makes you happy?”

Zeeb chuckled. “For a man who says he don’t talk much, you’re doing just fine.”

Nate stilled. “There are only two people I regularly talk to—my therapist, and my dad. And if my dad could hear me talking to you, he’d be…”

Happy. He’d be happy.

“Hey, if you feel the need to talk, you could always go converse with the horses. Except I wouldn’t recommend it.” Zeeb rolled his eyes. “All they ever talk about is oats, hay, and horseflies. Oh, and they complain about the guests. It can get pretty boring.”

Nate bit back a smile. “I’ll try to remember not to get pulled into a conversation with a horse.”

“But me? I can talk ’till the cows come home. Only, when they hear me rattlin’ on, they usually do a one-eighty and head back to the pasture.”

Nate couldn’t rein in his smile. “Are you always such a comedian?”

Zeeb shrugged. “Pretty much. They say laughter’s the best medicine, right?”

Nate unlocked the easel legs. “Tell me about Salvation. Dad doesn’t talk about his visits to… Deliverance? That’s the name, right? And I don’t want to hear about what he gets up to, if I’m honest. But I do want to know about the ranch.”

And listening to Zeeb talk was way better than talking about himself.

Zeeb perched his ass on a flat rock. “Robert’s granddaddy built it.

Or was it his great-granddaddy? Thing is, for a while now Salvation’s been a kind of…

I don’t know… a sanctuary, I guess. I’m not talkin’ ’bout the guests.

They come to relax, to step out of their comfort zone, push their boundaries, whatever.

No, I’m talkin’ ’bout the people who live an’ work there.

” He expelled a breath. “It’s a safe place, where a man can be true to himself.

Once you drive through that arch? There’s no shame, no judgment.

And the way the world’s goin’ right now?

That makes Salvation something precious. ”

Nate’s throat tightened. Zeeb’s voice held so much love, so much sincerity.

“Then you’re not just a lucky man to have all this,” Nate said, flinging his arm wide to encompass the view. “You’ve found a special place to live.”

“An’ it took me twelve years to find it,” Zeeb confessed. “Twelve years of working my way from Idaho to Montana, drifting from place to place, doing whatever jobs I could find.”

“And not looking back once,” Nate murmured.

Zeeb cocked his head. “You know what that feels like, don’tcha?” Then he straightened. “Don’t mind me. It’s none of my business. And besides, you came here to capture this view, not to listen to me talk my head off.” He spread a blanket on the ground. “I’ll go fetch your pencils an’ paints.”

Before Nate could get a word out, Zeeb headed back to the wagon.

Nate stared after him.

Zeeb had gotten one thing wrong.

It was the strangest thing, but Nate had a feeling he could listen to him talk all day.