Page 46 of Bait N' Witch

“Aunt Persephone says we’re not ready.”

And who was Rowan, a lowly magic-lacking nanny, to say otherwise? “Have you told her you can do more? Or tried to show her?” She still hadn’t figured out why the girls held back during lessons.

“Yes.” Chloe scowled. “We got in trouble for trying to do too much, too soon, and not following her instructions.”

Not for the first time, Rowan wondered what the other woman’s play was. No way could she be a licensed instructor and have missed the girls’ natural talents. Best guess, Persephone was slowing them down in order to ensure extra time with Grey, which would explain the vague stare of suspicion aimed Rowan’s way every time she met the woman.

“What about your dad? Have you told him you can handle more?”

Again, exchanged glances told her they hadn’t shared this with Greyson.

“He’ll listen to Aunt Persephone. Not us,” Atleigh said. Yup. Remembering this age, she probably wouldn’t have told her dad, either. Or Tanya, as the case might be. Grey’s job also kept him away. Not that he’d been away much since she’d arrived, but the girls alluded to it enough. Maybe a deeper level of trust needed to be established?

“I think you’d be surprised.” Rowan chewed at her lower lip. How could she help them with that?

At their skeptical looks, she shrugged. “It’s up to you, but you won’t know for sure unless you try.” She turned back to her dinner preparations and let them stew on that a moment. “Back to the plants. Since you’re required to practice, maybe we can make it fun.”

She topped the peppers off with fresh grated cheese, popped them in the oven, and set the timer before turning to face the girls. “Are you interested?”

“I guess,” Lachlyn muttered, flicking the leaf of her plant with a finger.

“Right. Outside then. Bring your plants.”

They followed her to the flat space of land behind the house before the tree line where the mountain inclined. Rowan inhaled appreciatively. Having grown up most of her life on the coast of Scotland, she was used to the bracing scent of sea air. Here the air was fresher in an odd way, with the zesty scent of pine subtly wafting on the breeze. The weather was also warmer here for this time of year, as Scotland sat farther north on the globe.

“Now, put your plants down in a line here.” She drew a line in a patch of dirt with her foot.

Another round of pouting glances, but they did as she asked. Then, making a big thing of the act, Rowan paced from the line to a point farther away and drew another line with her foot.

“When I say go, shoot your growing vines this way. The first to the finish line wins a skip day.”

The girls perked up, eyes brighter, backs straighter. “What’s a skip day?” Chloe asked.

“A day when you don’t have to go to magic practice after school. It’ll have to be a day your dad can stay with you, or he can take the losers to practice and I stay with you.”

Lachlyn slumped, arms crossed. “Dad will never allow it.”

“Let me deal with your dad. I’m sure I can fix it.” She wasn’t all that sure, but she’d address the issue later.

Chloe suddenly grinned and rubbed her hands together and shot a very un-Chloe-like stare at her sisters. “You are going down.”

“Don’t you bet on it.” Lachlyn switched from scowling to determined so quickly Rowan had to hold in a grin. “I’m going to win,” the almost teenager declared.

“No way,” Atleigh added, stepping up to her own plant, chin set in determination.

Rowan laughed, pleased to see them lose those morose expressions. “On three… One. Two. Three!”

With amazing speed, the vines for all three plants leaped forward. She’d known they could. Amazing what a little competition could do.

Rowan squealed with as much delight as the girls as their vines crept along the ground.

“Oh, no,” Chloe wailed. “Mine’s stuck on a weed and now it’s growing up instead of out.”

“Turn it around,” Rowan yelled.

Meanwhile Atleigh and Lachlyn were neck and neck. Lachlyn’s glower of concentration was fierce as she scolded her plant, while Atleigh’s approach was more encouraging.

Slowly, Atleigh’s pulled ahead, until, finally her vine crossed the finish line first.

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