Bait N' Witch (Brimstone Inc. #3) - Abigail Owen Page 0,36

he’d allowed to leak into his voice. As he strode through the house in search of his nanny, he tempered the emotion. “Row—”

“I heard you the first time you bellowed.”

He spun around in the kitchen to find her standing in the doorway that led down to her basement rooms.

And promptly lost all thought of what he was going to say, the words swirling down a drain along with shock.

Rowan’s glorious red hair had changed color—turned raven-wing black with a streak of purple through the bangs. Straight as a broomstick, it hung in a glossy curtain to her waist. Meanwhile, her skin had turned an interesting shade of light pink. Her eyes had changed color as well—one emerald green, and one an eerie turquoise.

And suddenly he was struggling with an almost savage need to turn her back. This colorful creature wasn’t his Rowan.

The ridiculousness of that thought had his words coming out more harshly than intended. “What in the seven hells happened to you?”

She plopped her hands on her hips, her pointed little chin tipping up as she stared him down. “I was practicing some of the magic the girls are learning.”

That stubborn chin got added to the growing list of things he wanted to kiss—freckles, lips, chin, and yes, even those cute toes. She’d probably smack him in the head, or worse, if he laughed, but, damn, she made it hard not to sometimes. “So this is…on purpose?”

She lifted a single eyebrow, daring even one snigger or word of criticism to escape his lips. “What do you think?”

Greyson recognized dangerous ground, feeling the metaphorical quicksand sinking away under his feet. He couldn’t offer help and risk offending her, but what if she needed it?

When he didn’t answer, she sighed. “What did you want?”

Still distracted by her bizarre appearance, it took him a moment to answer. “Instead of going to Denver for my meeting, they are going to come to the house tonight around five.”

She leaned a hip against the island counter. “Okay. I’ll be at Persephone’s with the girls, as we already arranged, when they arrive. Do you need me to feed everyone?”

“That would be good. As well as having appetizers and drinks ready.”

She nodded.

“How many?”

“Four.”

“Mages? Or something else?”

Now why would she ask that? “Why?”

“In case they have any special dietary needs or preferences. I’d like to plan ahead if I can.”

Suspicion drained out of him. Gods, he needed to start trusting more. Especially Rowan. “I see. A demigod, a nymph, and two wolf shifters.”

She raised her eyebrows. “That’s quite a crowd. Sounds like the beginning of a bad joke.”

“Have you dealt with their kind before? You don’t have to be nervous.”

“Oh… Good.” She turned away to open the pantry. “I don’t think that means anything different, but I’ll look it up, just in case. Maybe red meat for the wolves would be appropriate. Or fish for the nymph? Or maybe she’d be offended by that.” She was muttering more to herself than talking to him. Now she glanced over her shoulder. “Are nymphs friends with fish? Or do they eat them?”

He had to bite back a laugh, something that happened more and more around her. “I have no idea.”

“You’re no help then. I’ll look it up,” she repeated. “Anything else? Where are they staying?”

“I’m putting them up at the Stanley Hotel in Estes Park.”

“So no need to move the girls around,” she commented.

“No.”

“What time should I plan to serve dinner? It’s probably best if I prep ahead of time before taking the girls to their lesson at five.”

Right. How long would it take him to get all the details and discern the truth? “Let’s eat around seven. That should be plenty of time to wrap up our meeting.”

“Sounds good.” With a cheerful smile that appeared almost sinister given her one turquoise eye, she pulled open the fridge door, ostensibly to figure out her meal plan. “What’s the meeting about?”

Suspicion again crept up on him, tugging at his gut. “It’s Syndicate business.”

Her shoulders stiffened, but she didn’t turn around. “I see.”

Damn. Now he’d offended her. “Sorry—”

She turned, holding up one hand, strange eyes wide and innocent. “I understand. Your work is very secretive. No need to explain.”

With that, she turned back to the fridge. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d better take stock and then go back into town for groceries.”

Effectively dismissed—a sensation Greyson never encountered, especially with women—he found himself reluctant to leave. “Can I help?”

She didn’t even bother to turn around, keeping her head in the fridge. “No,