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 Iamstill 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.”