Page 4 of Worth the Ruin
“Nice to see you again, Mel,” Traeger says in a deep voice. His eyes dip briefly to my braless chest and I run my tongue over my teeth in irritation. I’m not modest by any stretch of the imagination, but if I’d known we were having company, I may have decided to cage the girls for the evening. He pulls his gaze back upwards quicker than I expect him to, actually, and I’m surprised that his stare didn’t feel invasive or skeevy. He shifts his gaze to my hair, to the long, damp waves hanging over one shoulder.
“The great and powerful Oz remembers my name? Should I be honored?” I reply automatically, before biting the inside of my cheek.
“Mel…” Jonah warns, somewhere between real irritation and exasperated amusement. Traeger chuckles and pulls his eyes from my hair, leaning back casually against the counter.
“It’s alright,” he assures Jonah. He has a drawl, probably from southern Georgia or maybe South Carolina, I think. It’s…pleasant. Annoyingly so.
“Cool it,” Jonah whispers as he passes me on the way to the butler’s pantry. I roll my eyes, but go about grabbing pots to start dinner. I know for a fact that Traeger’s eyes drift to my ass as I bend over, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of letting him know I care. I don’t actually, not really. Being stared at isn’t anything new, especially in the apocalypse where women are often seen as a rare, very in-demand commodity.
Rumor has it that Traeger has an entire harem of women back at FOS, trading sex for protection. The thought of it makes me want to puke—and castrate him—but there’s not much I can do about any that. All I can do is let him know that, even if I really should be, I’m not afraid of him. I straighten and turn to stare at him openly right back, silently challenging him as I arch a brow and cross my arms over my chest.
His dark blonde hair is a bit longer on the top than the sides, enough that he could run his fingers through it and leave it with that messy look that’s admittedly a favorite of mine. He has that stubble-that’s-a-step-above-a-five-o’clock-shadow thing going on. And yeah, it looks damn good on him, alright? He smiles, showing off straight, white teeth that gleam against his golden tanned skin. Ruggedly handsome. That’s how you’d describe him. Ruggedly fucking handsome.All the pretty hiding the monster, I think to myself. Psychopaths often use their good looks to their advantage, like a poisonous flower—beautiful but deadly.
He's tall, six-four I’d say, and judging by his muscled arms and chest, there’s apparently a gym at his luxurious secret hideaway. He’s in dark jeans and a plain white t-shirt with a blue plaid button-down thrown over the top, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. I narrow my eyes as I study the tattoo on his right forearm. He has others, I know, snaking down his biceps and peeking up under the edge of his collar, though they’re covered at the moment. I’ve never really paid much attention to them before other than to know they exist, so definitely don’t know what any of them are. I’m surprised to find that this one is a quote fromLes Misérables. I frown.Interesting. I add another note to my mental profile of the man, begrudgingly admitting that he probably isn’t just the dumb redneck I liked to think of him as most of the time.
I let my gaze travel back upwards and our eyes lock, the deep green of his boring into mine for a long moment. The hanging lights over the island catch the deep golden flecks around his irises, flaring out like a sunburst. He inhales quietly, his jaw ticking, and I force myself to swallow. The kitchen suddenly feels very small, the distance between us shrinking, and I suddenly…want. I want things I haven’t in a long time, all kinds of things that make me seriously deranged for wanting.
What the fuck?Sure, it’s been a while since I’ve gotten any and he’s extremely handsome, but he’s also a possible psycho who likes to put severed heads on spikes like he’s a fucking Lannister for crying out loud.
“Mel, where’s that scotch?” Jonah calls from around the corner, pulling me from my thoughts, the weird, tense moment with Traeger all but forgotten. I whirl towards the pantry, mouth gaping.
“You’re giving him the Macallen?!” I’d found it hidden in some corporate VP’s office on our last run and it’smine. Of course I’m fine sharing with Jonah, but sharing it with the prick? Come on!
Traeger arches a brow at that. “You drink scotch?”
“When it’s good,” I shoot back, annoyed and not even trying to watch my tone. I can’t quite read his look, which is rare for me, but he eventually just shrugs.
“Mel?” Jonah asks again expectantly as he enters the kitchen. I huff in irritation and stomp to the cabinet in the dining room, pulling out the bottle and cursing under my breath. I shove it into Jonah’s chest with too much force as I make my way back through the kitchen, making him grunt.
“One glass each. That’s it. I mean it, Cothren,” I add sternly. He rolls his eyes but his lips curl at the corners—I only use his last name when I’m irritated with him and for some reason, italways makes him laugh, which either diffuses my irritation or increases it tenfold, depending on the day.
“Or I could just take the entire bottle. Call it the El Douche Tax?” Traeger chimes in.
Jonah and I both turn towards him. I’d almost forgotten he was there for a second. I clench my jaw and narrow my eyes, and my irritation seems to amuse Traeger as much as it does Jonah. I kind of hate them both at the moment. Traeger smiles an easy smile and holds up his hands.
“I’m joking, I’m joking. Geeze, does she ever lighten up?” he asks Jonah, hiking a thumb at me.
“Yuck it up, couyon,” I mutter. He arches a brow at that while Jonah pours the drinks, but I turn away to work on what promises to be the world’s most awkward dinner.
CHAPTER TWO
MELODY
To my dismay,Traeger stays in The Cove for three more days. He inventories our stores, has meetings with the Council, mingles with the townsfolk. Shakes hands, kisses babies, the whole freaking deal.
Now most of the town is gathered around the small community park. Unfortunately, this part of the neighborhood hadn’t been finished before the Bloodies started trying to snack on everyone, so what would have been a playground and covered picnic area was mostly just an open grassy space with a small collection of children’s toys that we’ve scavenged over the years—a few balls and jump ropes, a seesaw that’s seen better days, and a handful of bikes—and the half-finished pavilion. There was a swing set at one point but it broke during a storm about a year ago.
But that’s all changing today. Apparently, one of the main reasons for Traeger’s visit was to bring one of those huge wooden playsets for the kids. His group had come across it in a broken-down delivery truck and decided that The Cove should have it. Why, I have no fucking clue. Maybe Traeger has multiplepersonalities and one of them is a philanthropic saint who truly just wants the world to be a better place.
I have to admit that the playset is pretty sweet. It has swings, three slides, and even a tunnel running between the two separate playhouse areas. This would have cost a pretty penny back in the day, that’s for damn sure. The Cove has about twenty kids and they’re all chomping at the bit with excitement. It’s so strange to think that so many of them have no idea what life was like without Bloodies, that this is just how the world is for them. But despite never seeing one before, they all instinctively seem to know that the giant structure in front of them equalsbigfun. As much as I might dislike the man, I’m grateful that he’s here giving them this gift. They deserve a chance to just be kids.
To my utter surprise, Traeger had even helped put the thing together. And not just a ceremonial hammering of the first nail either—he’d put in real manual labor, sweating and gritting along with the others.What is his game?I wonder, not for the first time. Sure, he uses violence to keep people in line, but he also uses his charisma, playing the role of friend-to-all savior when it suits him. Is that what this is about? Playing up that side of the coin? Trying to make even more people fawn over him and happy to fall in line?
Well, it seems to be working.
I watch from a distance behind the crowd as Traeger twists the last screw, dusts his hands off, and shoots the crowd a winning smile. He throws his arms out wide in invitation.
“Well, go on. Give it a good test drive!”
