Bait N' Witch (Brimstone Inc. #3) - Abigail Owen Page 0,48

that could put this family—who’d already been through so much, and who’d managed to creep into her heart and take up permanent residence—in peril?

She’d find out tomorrow.

Chapter Eighteen

“Dad?”

Chloe’s tentative question pulled Greyson’s thoughts away from the red-haired, bewitching nanny who’d driven away in her beat-up Chevy that morning, earlier than she’d originally indicated. Rowan hadn’t even paused to eat breakfast with them, though he’d made plenty. And despite the fact that the girls—whom he could tell had become quite attached to their nanny—begged her to. She hadn’t said where she was going, or with whom, and he hadn’t asked.

He should’ve. He’d damn well wanted to. That nagging sense something else was going on with her hadn’t gone away. If anything, the girls’ words that night had warning bells jangling inside his head. How the hell could she think he’d kill her? No mistaking the terror in her eyes. What had he done to warrant that kind of fear? His job, maybe, but that wasn’t enough.

Her behavior since, had raised his concerns even more. She’d been…reserved. Not in a way he could put his finger on, no action to point to. Just a gut knowledge.

“Yes, Chloe?” he answered, slightly distracted.

“Do you think you could work with us on magic in the afternoons? Instead of Aunt Persephone?”

Greyson’s attention moved fully to his daughters now. “My job doesn’t give me consistent time at home. I know I’ve been around a lot lately, but things won’t stay that way.”

At their slumped shoulders, he put down his fork. “Why? Don’t you like Persephone?”

“Oh, we love her,” Lachlyn spoke up. “Just not her lessons.”

Amusement tugged at his lips. “Why not?”

“She treats us like we’re babies, Dad.” Atleigh’s put-upon sigh said more than the words.

“I’m sure she knows what she’s doing. After all, Persephone teaches many of the children in the area.”

Three eager expressions shut down and closed off, as they flopped back against their seats at the breakfast table.

“I told you Rowan was wrong,” Lachlyn hissed at her sisters.

Greyson, about to resume his breakfast, paused, fork halfway to his mouth. “What does Rowan have to do with this?”

Chloe wrinkled her nose. “She told us to talk to you about our lessons with Aunt Persephone.”

She did that? Why?

“Were you complaining to her about your aunt?”

“No!” Atleigh sent him an offended glower. “Rowan noticed how bored we were with our lessons and said to talk to you.”

Slowly, Greyson leaned back in his chair. Had he missed something directly under his nose? Were the girls bored, and could they handle more? He’d assumed Persephone had things well in hand and honestly hadn’t paid much attention. Too many other issues overwhelmed him when it came to raising his daughters alone, and he’d been happy to pass that part off to someone else.

Meanwhile, a warmth he didn’t want to examine too closely bloomed in the region of his heart. Rowan had enough faith in him to send the girls his way with this issue.

Of course she did, you dumb ass. She can’t handle it on her own.

However, rather than address it with him, she had encouraged the girls to do so, helping build their trust in him. He’d have to thank her later, after he found out why she thought, even for a second, that he could kill her. Kiss her, yes. Step way over the line she’d drawn and do a hell of a lot more than that, yes. But harm her?

Gods, she must be a demon sent to torment him.

“I’ll watch more closely tomorrow. Okay? And if she needs to increase the level, then I’ll talk to her.”

At least the girls perked up, resuming shoveling forkfuls of eggs into their mouths almost as fast as they could swallow.

“Oh, hey, Dad?” Lachlyn asked around a bite.

Again, he put his now cold bite of eggs down. “Yes?”

“I think Rowan likes you.”

He was thankful he hadn’t taken that bite, or he would’ve choked. He couldn’t deny the burst of interest those words provoked. Now he was acting like a boy half his age with a first crush. But if she…

“I like her, too,” he said casually.

And earned an eye roll from Atleigh for his trouble. “No, Dad. Like-likes you.”

He shook his head. Dealing with his own thoughts in regard to his nanny was one thing. Encouraging the girls was another. “Rowan’s just nice to everyone.”

“She doesn’t look at you like she’s just being nice.”

He paused with the fork raised yet again as something like hope—only it couldn’t be that, could it?—surged through