Page 98 of Captivated

Nate was out of bed and making coffee by the time Zeeb emerged. He tried not to stare at the graceful line of Nate’s back, the way his firm ass filled his shorts, or the sight of his bare feet on the floorboards.

Okay, that was new.

Since when have feet been a turn-on?

Zeeb had to get out of there.

He squirmed into his jeans. “I’m gonna head over to the bunkhouse and grab a shower before breakfast. You wanna eat here or meet me there? Your choice.”

Nate squared his shoulders. “I think staying here feels like a backward step, don’t you?”

Zeeb smiled. “The bunkhouse it is, then. I’ll make sure those hogs don’t eat it all.”

“Especially the home fries.” Nate’s eyes twinkled.

Zeeb gave him a mock glare. “Why do I get the feeling every time I look up, I’m gonna find you watchin’ me like a hawk?”

“Paranoia,” Nate told him with a straight face. “Your imagination.”

Zeeb pulled on his tee. “I’ll see you there.” He put his boots on, grabbed his hat and the keys to his truck, and walked out onto the porch.

Day ain’t hardly started and already it feels like it’s gonna be a good one.

That might have had something to do with where he’d woken up.

A song popped into his head as he drove to the bunkhouse, and he laughed out loud. “Walking On Sunshine” was nearly as old as he was. He recalled it playing on the radio in the kitchen when he was very small, while his mom baked and Zeeb helped, spooning mixture into muffin cases, adding ingredients to the bowl as she made cookies.

And right then, it captured his mood.

He parked next to the barn, and as he rounded the corner, he spied Butch leaning against the paddock fence, one boot hooked on the bottom rail, his eyes tracking Paul who was already outthere. Bailey kicked up little clouds of dust as he trotted in slow, lazy circles.

Zeeb came up beside Butch and leaned on the same rail. Butch’s hat shadowed his face, but Zeeb caught the flicker of a glance from under the brim.

“You good?” Butch asked.

“Yeah.” He was better than good.

There was a pause. “Another night at the cabin, huh?”

Zeeb watched the muscles ripple beneath Bailey’s smooth coat as he picked up a little speed. “You know what conversion therapy is?”

He knew it wasn’t his story to tell, but it felt important to explain.

Besides, Nate’ll be gone at the weekend, and that’s the last we’ll see of him.

The thought dampened his mood.

Butch stiffened. “I wish I could say I didn’t.” Another glance at Zeeb. “Nate? That his story?” When Zeeb nodded, his face contorted. “Well fuck.”

Zeeb looked down, and kicked a clump of dirt with his boot. “I’ve stayed at his cabin a couple nights because he asked me to. Just talkin’. No funny business.” He wasn’t about to mention where he’d slept.

“Did I say that? No, I did not.” Butch turned to face him. “But I find it kinda curious that you’d come out with that.” He studied Zeeb’s face in silence, and Zeeb caught his breath.

How much do you see?

Butch was no dummy.

“You know,” Butch said finally, “You ain’t got to say nothin’ if you don’t want to.” He inclined his head toward the bunkhouse. “But just so you know, the boys’ve been yappin’. Not in a mean way. Just curious.” His eyes gleamed. “Like me.”

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