Page 28 of Captivated
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.
Chapter Nine
Zeeb couldn’t keephis attention focused on his Kindle: Watching Nate was far more interesting than his latest e-book.
Nate stood in front of the easel, capturing the view with a few strokes of his pencil. Then he began to add more detail, and Zeeb couldn’t tear his gaze away from the image unfolding on the large sketching pad.
Damn, he’s good.
“You could do this for a living.”
Nate stiffened, and Zeeb kicked himself for destroying the silence. Nate obviously didn’t want to talk. More than that, with a pencil in his hand, Nate was a different person, calm and confident.
Then his shoulders relaxed. “I do. I’m a freelance illustrator.”
“I’ll bet you get tons of work.”
Nate lowered his pencil and turned to face Zeeb. “Not really.”
Zeeb blinked. “But you’ve got an awesome talent.”
