Page 17 of Captivated
Zeeb had met a lot of folks over the years. Some came to the ranch simply to enjoy the experience, with not a care in the world. Others came with baggage, often already halfway healed. Others were knotted up so tight it sometimes took days before they’d even pet a horse.
Nate seemed like the latter, but there was something else in his stance. Not weakness. Not fragility. Just wariness. As though he’d learned the hard way that people weren’t safe.
It was Nate’s stance that left its stamp on Zeeb.
You’ll be safe here. I’ll see to that.
Zeeb didn’t know the details. Didn’t need to. He only knew Nate’s therapist had called ahead to say this guy would need space, no pushing, no crowds. And that maybe—just maybe—the horses could do what words hadn’t managed so far.
Zeeb motioned to his truck. “The cabin isn’t here, it’s by the creek, and seeing as you have bags, we’d be better taking the truck the back way.” He kept his voice soft and low, the way he’d talk to a new gelding in a stall for the first time. “The cabin’s nothing fancy, but it’s yours while you’re here. Nobody’ll bug you unless you want company.”
Nate gave a sharp nod.
Still not talking much, huh?Zeeb didn’t miss the way his eyes darted from tree to barn to Zeeb’s hands, as though he was mapping for exits.
“You hungry?” Zeeb asked.
There was a second of hesitation. “I’ve got snacks,” Nate murmured.
“All right. There’s stew later if you change your mind. No pressure.” Zeeb smiled. “We do a lot of that here. The no-pressure thing.”
That got Nate’s gaze again, steadier this time. Not warm yet, but not afraid either.
“Throw your stuff in the back,” Zeeb instructed. He waited until Nate sat beside him before adding, “There’s another way to reach the cabin—on horseback—but we’ll leave that until you’ve decided which horse you wanna ride.” He turned the key and the truck spluttered to life.
“Are there a lot of horses?” Nate asked.
Zeeb chuckled. “Enough that you could ride a different one every day for the whole time you’re with us.”
Nate’s stomach growled, and he flushed. “You mentioned stew. Where do you eat?”
“In the bunkhouse, but don’t you worry none. I’ll bring your supper to you, and you can eat in the cabin. I’ll do that with all your meals.”
Nate said nothing for a moment. “When do I get to see the horses?”
“Tomorrow morning after breakfast. About that… I could introduce you to Paul Stormcloud—he’s the best horse whisperer you’ll ever see—and he could show you how to groom a horse, an’ get it ready to be ridden. That’s one option.”
“What’s option two?”
Zeeb smiled. “I show you instead. Your choice, Nate. And once you’re comfortable, if you wanna go off an’ draw or paint, I’ll leave you alone, if that’s what you want.”Only don’t let the boss know, because he’ll tear me a new one.
Zeeb wasn’t going to stick to Nate like glue, not now that he’d met him.
Give him space, and he’ll come to me if he needs anything.
He pulled up behind the cabin, got out, and grabbed Nate’s bags from the back of the truck. Zeeb led him around the side of the property, up the steps to the porch where two recently painted Adirondack chairs sat, and placed the bags on the wooden deck.
Zeeb handed Nate the key. “She’s got heat—and before you say anything, yes, it gets cold around here, even in July. The temperature can dip into the fifties, especially at night. The sheets are clean, and she comes with a great soundtrack.” He inclined his head toward the creek.
Nate took the small silver key, but he didn’t say thanks. Instead, he gave another nod and opened the door. He lingered in the doorway almost as though he didn’t quite trust it would stay open if he turned his back.
Zeeb waited, conscious of the feeling that despite the silence, Nate wasn’t done.
After a few seconds, Nate glanced over his shoulder at Zeeb.
“You really mean it?” he asked. The words came out as a croak.
“Mean what?”
