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I may not always be happy to follow Jud’s orders, but I’m determined to try my best. Not only because he has this annoying habit of kissing me senseless any time I defy him, but also because I want to be more than just a girlfriend to the guys here at Eagle Peak. I want to contribute. I want to be part of the team.
The pitched roof of the lodge comes into view, and Jud’s deep voice cuts through the growl of the four-wheeler’s engine. “Almost home,” he says.
The simple lodge, with its forest green paint and ever-present generator hum, might not be the warm, suburban house where I grew up. This mountain in Montana is much wilder than the Idaho cul-de-sac where I rode bikes and played basketball with neighborhood kids. The guys who live here are a far cry from the loving family I lost. Despite all that, despite the short time I’ve lived here, the word “home” feels right.
Eagle Peak is my new home, and I’ll be fine here as long as I don’t let Jud or any of the others push me into anything I’m not ready for. That starts now, and first on my agenda is finessing Jud into treating me with respect. Unlike last night, when he basically introduced me to the new arrivals as a glorified bedwarmer.
Jud parks at the back of the lodge and cuts the engine. With a pat of my hip, he signals I’m free to get off his lap, but I stay where I am.
Lifting my face to his, I kiss his bearded cheek. “Thank you, Jud.”
His ice-blue eyes go soft on me. “What are you thanking me for this time?”
“For everything,” I say with a smile, and I hop off. I start to stride toward the door to the kitchen, but his big mitt swallows my hand, and he tugs me to him. With his six-foot-eight frame sitting on the four-wheeler, we’re nearly face to face. Normally, I have to crane my neck to meet his gaze.
He takes advantage of the temporary closeness in our heights and wraps me in his arms. “You’re welcome, kitten,” he says, and he plants a kiss on me.
Suddenly, I’m in no hurry to go inside and meet the four new arrivals. I’m happy to stand pressed against Jud’s muscled thigh and accept his tongue into my mouth. I’m more than happy to remember some of the things he did with that tongue last night. I blush when I remember some of the things I did withmytongue.
When he’s done savoring me, he fixes a content, hooded gaze on my face, and makes a noise like he’s just completed a delicious meal. “Mmm-mm.” With a sigh, he adds, “Come on. I’ll introduce you to the others.”
He leads me into the kitchen at the back of the lodge, and behind his back, I smile. That kiss to his cheek wasn’t manipulation, I’ve decided. It’s more of an exchange. I give Jud genuine appreciation and respect, and he gives those things in return. The only part that feels a tiny bit manipulative is that I’m not normally so effusive with my feelings and my appreciation. It’s like I’m making an intentional effort to communicate the way Jud responds best to, and it seems to be working!
I’ll have to find Doc today and thank him. While he didn’t know Jud personally before the Virus, he knewofJud. They were members of rival motorcycle clubs in Louisianna, and Jud was the president of his club. Doc understood the lifestyle Jud was used to and, thanks to his insights, I’m beginning to figure Jud out. He’s not so bad, if you pet him just right. In fact, he can be incredibly sweet.
The screen door hisses open to admit us to the kitchen, and my eyes adjust to the low lighting. Eagle Peak used to be an all-weather camp for youth. The buildings are utilitarian, run-down, and far from luxurious. But the thing about living in hell for nearly two years is when you get out, you don’t care about things like matching furniture and sheets with a high thread count. The lodge and its outbuildings, including the cabin Jud gave me to sleep in, are more than adequate.
I’m becoming familiar with the stainless-steel island, chipped Formica countertops, and faded linoleum floor of the kitchen. As usual, the overhead fluorescents are off. To conserve generator fuel, the occupants make do with natural daylight until dark. Unlike usual—no offense to Doc—it smells like culinary heaven. The second I step inside, I smell pastries, eggs, and salty meats, none of which are burning, and I understand why Shep, the settlement cook, doesn’t go on scavenge missions very often.
At the far end of the kitchen from where we entered at the back, a step-down doorway and a passthrough window offer glimpses into the common room of the lodge, with its vaulted ceilings lined with heavy beams and its massive fireplace. Men’s voices can be heard coming from that direction, and the large common room seems smaller than usual because of the cluster of muscled giants milling around, waiting to be fed.
When the screen door slams shut behind me and Jud, the silence that falls is deafening.
Every face in the common room turns my way. One guy even leans into the passthrough window to get a better look at me. Last night, I only saw the new men briefly, as Jud “introduced” me to them. I finally have a chance to look my fill, and there is a lot to take in. A lot of muscle. A lot of intensity. A lot of jewelry.
There’s one man not staring at me: Shep, who runs the kitchen and cares for the animals and garden. He’s also closest to me, standing over a steaming saucepan on the stove. He hasn’t noticed us yet. Probably because of the loud hood fan above his head sucking up all that steam.
Shep is barrel-chested and over six feet tall. Thick, blond hair makes a manbun at the back of his head, and studded, leather straps hug his wrists. His arms are as big around as tree trunks. He’s as intimidating as the bikers on that show Dad used to like. Until he lifts a wooden spoon from the saucepan, takes a delicate sip and says, “Ooh, dat’s nice.” A thumb ring with a skull on it reflects the light as he returns the spoon to the pan and adds a pinch of salt with a flourish.
He finally seems to realize that everyone else has fallen quiet. When he turns to see why, I notice he’s wearing a frilled apron over his jeans and T-shirt. His green-blue eyes widen as they find me. His coloring is Norwegian, pale skin with ruddy smudges over high cheekbones. His smile is lopsided and wholehearted.
“’Mornin’, Shep,” Jud says. “Shep’s our cook,” he adds for my benefit.
“’Morning,” Shep says, hard on theG.His gaze flicks to Jud briefly before returning to me. He doesn’t try to hide his curiosity. Or his interest. His eyes practically glow neon as he looks deep into my soul. That look should make me uncomfortable, considering Jud’s arm is around me, but it doesn’t. In fact, I’m surprised to feel a familiar warmth bloom in my stomach as he wets his lips with his tongue. “Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes.” He’s speaking to Jud but looking at me.
Jud grunts in response. When he guides me past Shep, I give the cook a shy wave. He stares after me, still with the lopsided grin.
When we reach the door to the common room, the throng of men disperses to let us pass. From the way their eyes track me, I can guess what they’d been talking about before we showed up: the first woman they’ve seen in two years. Me.
Jud stops in the eating area, which consists of two long, cafeteria-style folding tables situated near the passthrough window. In its glory days as a spot where a hundred campers could feast on beans and hotdogs, there would have been many more tables, stretching into the common room. But with an expanse of empty space between the eating area and a cluster of mismatched couches near the fireplace, the room rings with unused potential. It’s like being in the high-school gym after hours, decorating for prom with a handful of friends. You get to know a public space more intimately that way. You feel a sense of ownership. I’m starting to feel that way with the lodge and my little cabin. I bet the men who have lived here the last two years feel it even stronger.
Jud positions me in front of him facing the tables, where four sets of eyes turn my way. The first man I see is the one I thought of as Crazy-eyes last night. I recognize him as Rev, thanks to Doc telling me about him and the others. Even leaning with an elbow on the passthrough, I can tell he’s tall. Not quite as tall as Jud, but not far off, either. Beat-up jeans hang low on his narrow hips, held up by a belt with a huge oval buckle. An open flannel shirt covers a faded concert Tee. In the center of his chest, a large, antique cross hangs on a thick chain. It looks like something a vagabond pope would wear.
Jud slings a heavy arm around my shoulder, and Rev watches me with electric eyes that show a little too much white. When he tilts his head to study me, I notice the gray streaking his long hair. It’s tied back like last night, and it has a few dreadlocks in it. It should be sinister the way he strokes his beard, which is grayer than the hair on his head, but I don’t feel afraid of him. According to Doc, Rev predicted my arrival with his Gift, which seems to be some kind of ability to sense what will happen in the future. I wonder how much he knows about me from his visions.
“Our Heart,” Jud says to Rev, and the other man nods, sagely. “Cora, this is Rev,” he says to me. “He’s second in command here. What he says goes.”
“Um, okay.” That was a very Jud-esque introduction, short, to the point, and authoritative. “Nice to meet you.” I hold out my hand.
