Page 50 of Captivated

Nate hadn’t offered anything about his history, not yet. That wasn’t a problem, but it was a weight Zeeb kept feeling. Something hidden between the lines of what Nate didn’t say. The way he flinched even slightly at casual touch, how he always scanned the stable before stepping in.

Like he was preparing for something.

Bracing himself.

I’m not sure this is working out.Because whatever Nate was running from hadn’t stopped chasing him because he’d saddled up.

And heisrunning from something. Zeeb was certain about that.

He just didn’t know what.

I want to help him.

It was a desire born not out of his duty to his job, to the boss, but out of his growing interest in Nate. The more time Zeeb spent around him, the more he liked him. There were moments when he got a brief glimpse of the man behind the mask, the snatches of humor, the light in his eyes—before shadows rolled across, obliterating it.

When he wasn’t with Nate, he was thinking about him.

I want to bring some light into his world.

The saddle didn’t feel like a foreign object today. That was new.

Sunlight spilled across the dusty paddock, catching on the flecks in Sorrel’s coat. The horse flicked an ear back toward him, patient as ever, and Nate exhaled slowly, copying the calming breath Zeeb had shown him.

Not for the first time, he wondered how the man knew to be quiet when quiet was needed. No poking, no prying, just steady hands and a calm voice.

Sorrel shifted under him, and Nate let his legs move with the motion, more relaxed this time. Less like he was about to fall off a ledge.

God, the thought almost made him smile.

Maybe this is how it’s supposed to feel.

“You’re sitting deeper in the saddle,” Zeeb called out from his position at the rail. “You feel that?”

Nate nodded, one hand adjusting the reins. “Yeah. Doesn’t feel like I’m gonna slide off anymore.”

“That’s because you’re starting to trust him,” Zeeb said.

You need to trust me, Nathaniel. I’m here to help you.

Nate shivered.

Trust was earned. Trust had teeth. He’d learned that the hard way.

He pushed the thought aside and glanced at Zeeb leaning on the fence, his hat pulled low, a thermos in one hand.

Watching, not judging.

Nate didn’t know what to do with that kind of attention. He only knew having Zeeb around was getting to feel more and more comfortable. That had to be a good thing, right?

Then why does it scare the crap out of me?

There was a rhythm coming into Nate’s ride now. Not just in the gait, though Sorrel was pacing steady as a metronome, but in Nate himself. The stiffness apparent in his first sessions had melted a little. The lines in his shoulders weren’t quite so sharp.

It was a good sign. Zeeb didn’t let himself get too comfortable with good signs, however.

We still have a long way to go.

“Take him up to a trot if you’re ready.” Zeeb kept his tone light.

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