Page 145 of The Holiday Clause

“I’m a boy. We’re well-known cooty carriers. I warned you to stay away.”

“Ugh,” she groaned, plucking more tissues from the box as she sneezed three times in a row.

“You sneeze like a kitten in a teacup but blow your nose like a foghorn kicking off a moose hunt.”

She sniffled and moaned, hiding her face in the blankets. “Look away. I’m hideous.”

“You’re adorable.”

“No. You shouldn’t see me like this. We’re supposed to be in the new, seductive stage, not the drippy, gross phase. I want you to think I wake up beautiful, not icky.”

“Believe it or not, you’re still adorable—even with a red nose and glassy eyes.”

“We’ll never sleep together if you keep looking at me like this.”

Was she nuts? “Nope. Still want to fuck you thirty ways to Sunday.” He tucked the blankets around her like a tightly wrapped burrito. “I’m running to The Chowder House to get you some soup. What else can I pick up while I’m out? Cough drops? Something for tea?”

“Maybe ask Aunt Astrid for something that cures death.”

“On it.”

She groaned. “I have my class?—”

“Lilly can teach your class. I’ll swing by and tell her, then I’ll check on Bodhi.”

She coughed. “People will get suspicious if you start relaying messages for me.”

“Let them. I’ve got nothing to hide.”

She blew her nose and moaned in defeat. “Fine. Thank you.”

He kissed her head then kissed Rat. “I’ll be back soon. Call me over the radio if you need anything.”

“Take your phone!”

“I will, but it’s windy today. Use the radio if it’s important.”

She groaned and tossed a crumpled tissue beside the waste basket by the couch.

A loud bang woke Wren,the ache drilling behind her eyes still jackhammering away.

“Grey?” she croaked, startled by her voice. When she coughed, it hurt so much she fell back asleep out of sheer defeat. The pounding continued and then someone bellowed for Greyson and her skull shriveled.

Wren’s eyes popped open and she groaned as the door opened, letting a cold draft in.

“You’ve got some nerve, man!” Whoever was yelling was about to catch her wrath.

They yanked the covers off of her. “Hey!”

Logan blinked, confused. “Wren?”

She weakly pulled herself up, snatched back the covers, and collapsed. The air outside the blankets was freezing.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m sick,” she rasped. Anything over a whisper burned like a scream.

He took a step back and pulled the collar of his shirt over his mouth and nose. “What do you have? You look like death.”