Page 43 of Captivated

Nate opened his eyes.Wow. I didn’t even feel myself go.

Zeeb had dropped him off at the cabin, and Nate had mumbled something about seeing him later. He’d made himself a cup of coffee, sat on the couch, and that was the last thing he remembered. The coffee was stone cold, and more than two hours had passed.

I must’ve needed that sleep.

The memory of riding Sorrel around the paddock sent warmth rushing through him.

I did that.And now he felt more alert, he wanted to do it again.

Then he became aware his thigh muscles ached like a bastard.

How come no one told me about that part?

Nate stood and went into the kitchen to warm up his coffee. Sunlight poured through the small open window above his bed, and through it he could hear the creek babbling over rocks, birds singing in the trees that surrounded the cabin…

The sound of a horse approaching.

His cup in his hand, he went to the door, opened it, and stepped out onto the porch. Across the creek, a tall man with a bald head, a mustache, and a beard was dismounting from a chestnut horse. He wore jeans and a dark blue button-down shirt, sleeves rolled up, open at the collar.

Nate fought the instinct to retreat into the sanctuary of the cabin: curiosity proved greater than wariness. He watched as the man tied the horse to a hitching post, then stood facing Nate, separated from him by the tumbling waters of the creek, into which had been laid steppingstones.

The man raised his hand in greeting. “Morning.” He smiled. “Well, it’s almost afternoon, but so what?” He made no effort to come over, as though there was an invisible line he knew not to cross.

Despite his clothing, he didn’t look like a ranch hand, and Nate’s gut tensed. He said nothing but sipped his coffee.

Waiting to see if this guy would push.

“I’m Sol,” the man added after a beat. “I work with the ranch.”

Nate arched his eyebrows. “You’re too clean to be a cowboy.”

Sol chuckled. “I’ll take that as a compliment. And I did saywiththe ranch, not at it.”

The distinction only made Nate’s stomach clench even more.

“What do you do here?”

Sol shrugged. “I manage the ranch’s websites. I also work with the guys who come to stay at Deliverance.” He smiled. “Which is where I met your dad. Derek’s a good man.”

Nate couldn’t help returning his smile. “Oh. I can’t say I recognize your name, but that’s because Dad doesn’t talk about what he does here.”

“But you do know about Deliverance?”

He nodded, flushing. “Not the specifics. I know it’s for guys into BDSM, and that my dad loves staying here. But there’s a sort of unwritten rule at home: I don’t ask questions about it, and Dad doesn’t share.”

But he had the notion that if Dad had a problem with someone, he’d have mentioned it.

It didn’t mean he had to trust Sol more than he had to.

Curiosity got the better of him. “What brings you to the cabin?”

“I saw Paul, and he told me you’d had your first time on a horse this morning. Figured I’d come say hi, no pressure.”

Still no push. That was good. Nate set the mug down on the rail beside him, keeping his posture loose. Casual. He knew how to look calm even when his skin felt as though it didn’t fit.

“This is probably where I should add I also work here as a counselor. Strictly for those who want a little help, or just need someone to talk to.” Dark eyes locked on his. “But this isn’t a professional call, okay? I’m just breaking the ice.”

Sure you are.

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