Page 19 of Captivated

“‘Some guy’? He was only the most innovative guitarist of his generation. For more than?—”

“Chill, Dad. I’m yanking your chain. But seriously, I just got here. Can this conversation wait until I’ve had some sleep?”

Another pause. “Listen, I’m not going to be calling you every day, checking up on you, okay? Eat well, get lots of sleep, enjoy the fresh air and the open spaces. Take your time. Love you.”

“Love you too.” Nate ended the call, and a moment later there was a gentle knock at the door. He froze. “Who is it?”

“I’ve brought your supper.”

Nate recognized Zeeb’s low rumble. He opened the door to find Zeeb standing on the porch, his arms full.

“That looks like more than supper.”

Zeeb chuckled. He held up an insulated bag. “The stew’s in here.” Then he held up another. “There’s some of Matt’s freshly made cornbread, and a piece of whatever pie he’s made today. There’s also a flask of coffee.” He handed them over. “I forgot to tell you. There’s plenty of coffee in the cabinet, and creamer in the fridge, in case you take it white. I think there’s tea too—black, peppermint, chamomile, lemon, you name it. If there’s anything else you need, just holler.” He reached into the pocket of his worn jeans and removed a folded piece of paper. “This is my number.”

Nate placed the bags on the floor and took the paper.

Zeeb stroked his chin. “I’m sure there was one more thing.” His eyes lit up. “Breakfast, that was it. I’ll bring it to you about six, unless that’s too early. You don’t run to the same schedule as everyone else. So if you want a different time, just let me know.”

“Thank you.” Nate managed a forced smile. “Six is good. I’m an early riser.”

“Great. In that case, I’ll leave you to your supper and I’ll see you at six. Have a good night’s sleep.” Zeeb tipped his hat, and descended the steps.

Nate closed the door. The quiet hit him, and he realized there was one sound he wanted to infiltrate the cabin. He opened a window, and there was the burble of water over rocks, leaves brushing against each other in the breeze…

Dad was right. This place is perfect.

He hoped the stew was as good as Dad had made it out to be. Nate had a feeling that once he’d eaten, all that was left of his day would be a shower and then bed.

Let’s see what tomorrow brings.

Zeeb got behind the wheel of his truck, his gaze focused on the cabin.

I still think he looks like he wants to be anywhere but here.

Nate appeared tired, but that could be down to the long trip.

He’s all sharp angles and guarded edges.

Maybe that was why Zeeb had kept his tone warm and relaxed. He’d hoped to smooth out some of the tension humming between them. Nate’s expression was a mixture of wariness tinged with the smallest hint of curiosity. That guarded look… The way some guys wore their walls like armor.

Yeah, Zeeb had seen that look before. Many years ago, he’d even seen it in the mirror.

Whatever had brought Nate to Salvation, it wasn’t anything simple.

He started the engine, turned the wheel and headed back down the narrow track leading to the ranch. He prayed they’d left him some supper: healthy appetites were also a thing at Salvation.

Except while he drove, his mind wasn’t on food but on Nate.

What happened to you?Because no one got themselves into that state on their own. There had to be external forces.

Remember what the boss said. Don’t push. Don’t pry. Let Nate move at his pace. You might never learn his history, butthat don’t matter none. He’s here to leave the past behind him and move on.

That last thought hadn’t come from the boss. That was Zeeb functioning on instinct.

He parked the truck next to the bunkhouse, and followed the aroma of stewed beef and herbs.

“If you fuckers have eaten all the supper, heads are gonna roll an’ asses are gonna get kicked.”

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