Page 12 of Eagle Eye
"Nope," I said. It was apparently my word for the day. "No sneezing or runny nose."
"What about—"
"No sore throat," I said.
"Granny Josephine—"
I shook my head. "No chills or joint aches."
Suddenly, I noticed Logan staring at the two of us as if we'd suddenly grown extra heads. He tilted his head and gave me an interested look. "Is it telepathy?"
I laughed, but then winced again. This headache was really getting to me. "No, it's more than twenty years of living with someone in a tiny town."
"Well, this isn't good. Get the ice pack, Mike. Shelley, go get my heating pad," Aunt Ruby said. "Ice pack on the neck and heating pad on the shoulders, works every time."
Uncle Mike shook his head. "You always say that, Ruby, but it never works for me. Protein is what you need for a headache."
"Mom always said Valerian tea," Shelley said. "Or lemon balm tea. With a gentle spell."
When she caught Logan studying her, she raised her chin. "My mom was a nature witch, and I'm going to be one too."
I didn't quite understand the glance Uncle Mike and Aunt Ruby shared at that remark, but another spike of pain pushed it out of my mind. Within minutes, I was staring at a plate filled with chicken, ham, and cheese, wearing a heating pad draped over my shoulders, and holding an ice pack to my neck with one hand and a mug of lemon tea with the other.
If anything, my head hurt worse.
"I'm not actually very hungry. Maybe I'll just go home and have a nap," I mumbled.
"I don't think you should drive," Jack said. "I can take you."
I didn't argue, which clearly worried Uncle Mike, who said he'd bring my car over later.
"How did you get here? Fly?" Shelley asked Logan.
He laughed. "No, sweet lass. I borrowed Jack's motorbike."
"Borrowed," Jack growled.
Logan held up both hands. "Sorry. Busted. The keys were on the counter in your kitchen, though, and your door was unlocked…"
"We don't lock doors in Dead End," Shelley piped up.
"We didn't lock doors before," I said, sighing and half-heartedly pushing all that protein around on the plate. I took a bite of chicken and a long sip of tea and then, surprisingly, felt a bit better.
"I think Tess needs pie," Jack said, watching me.
"There's pie?" Logan's eyes gleamed. "I love pie. Is there peach pie?"
"Pecan, apple, and lemon meringue," Aunt Ruby said, looking apologetic, as if she wanted to jump up right then and make a peach pie for our semi-uninvited guest.
Dang Southern manners.
"Iadorepecan pie," Logan said reverently. "It's not … is ithomemade?"
"Yes, all three are," Aunt Ruby told him. "Tess is the star baker in the family. Learned everything I could teach her and then surpassed me," she said proudly.
I blinked. "That's not true! You are a far better baker than me."
She patted my shoulder when she walked by me to get the pies. "Not true, but thank you for saying it. Your crusts are flakier and have been since you were about Shelley's age."
