"Well, call me the second you know something about the dagger," Aunt Ruby said. "I'll do the same, okay, sweetheart? I love you."
"I love you too. Both of you." I had to swallow, hard. I hated the thought of them being in even the tiniest bit of danger. What if we made all these plans to evacuate, but the Fae queen decided to step up the deadline?
I wanted that paper bag to breathe in again.
We said goodbye and hung up. I took a few deep, steadying breaths, and then I turned my head to stare at Jack. "Anonymous donation?"
He shifted in his seat. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Jed leaned forward to look past me to Jack. "Is lying to the lass really the way to start this relationship?"
Jack growled, and his cheeks reddened. "Nobody needs your help, old man."
I pretended to be shocked. "Jack! Respect your elders, please. And he's really,reallyyour elder."
"Hey!" Jed gave me a wounded look and then flipped the visor down and grinned at his reflection. "Not any longer."
I rolled my eyes and turned back to Jack. "Anonymous. Donation."
"Fine. The kids don't need to be worrying about this, right? I have money. What else am I going to do with it? There are only so many steaks a man can buy, and you won't let me giveyouany of it, even for hospital bills, so—"
And that was enough of that. I leaned over and kissed his cheek. "You're wonderful. I hope you know that."
When he glanced at me, his eyes were pure amber fire, not a hint of green remaining. "Same goes, beautiful."
Wow.
"It's really hot in here, isn't it?" I reached over to turn on the air conditioning but hit the radio button instead, and country music filled the truck.
"Oh, I like Kelsea Ballerini!" I hummed along to "I Hate Love Songs."
Saved by the ballad.
"Do you know this song? Teach it to me, and we will sing along," Jed said.
"No," Jack blurted out. "Um, I mean, Tess doesn't really sing … ah … in enclosed spaces."
Ouch.
But he wasn't wrong.
"What?"
"I have a slight singing impediment," I mumbled.
"A what?"
I sighed. "Dogs and small children run far away when I sing. Jack once busted into my house because he was afraid I was being tortured when he heard me singing. People—"
"That's not exactly—" Jack tried to say.
I glared at him and then turned to Jed and continued. "People at church wear earplugs when I sing. It's awful."
Jed patted my arm. "It can't be that bad. Nobody so beautiful could possibly—"
I sang a line from the song.
Jed's face collapsed into shock and horror so fast it was almost—almost—funny.
