Her no doubt disgruntled expression must’ve amused him, because his lips tipped up slightly. “I just didn’t want to make you uncomfortable if you were trying to relax.”
Sweet. She hadn’t expected a witch hunter to be…kind. “I don’t mind the company.” The words escaped her before she’d realized she wanted to say that. But once the words were out, she didn’t want to take them back.
At his inquiring look, she hitched herself up on the countertop, legs dangling. “I’ve been alone a lot…”
Mother of pearl. What was wrong with her, confessing such a thing? Then another realization struck. Nanny version of Rowan hadn’t been alone. She’d been nannying for families. She scrambled to cover her gaff. “Don’t get me wrong. The kids are wonderful and entertaining. But it’s nice to talk to an adult every once in a while.”
There. That sounded plausible and normal.
She glanced at the tea, willing it to steep faster. Why in the seven hells had she confessed such a thing to begin with? Sure, she was lonely all the time. Especially lately. Delilah had turned into a friend of sorts, but not someone to just have a chat with. And she was terrified most of the time. One week here and she was already dreaming of the day she had a home and people to love her. Expecting Grey to care about her at all, as his nanny of all people, let alone the idea of the man hunting her down turning into any kind of friend…
She’d had some dumbass ideas in her time, but this one was a doozy.
“I get it.”
His dark voice pulled her out of her head, and she paused, searching his face for any sign of what he meant. “You do?”
Grey huffed a laugh. “I’m a single father with triplet daughters who lives alone in the woods. My job keeps me out on my own for days or weeks at a time. But when I come home, I’m Daddy. Yeah. I get it.”
Something in the way he looked down at his bare feet caught her attention.
“Admitting you’re lonely even with your children to care for isn’t wrong. You know that, don’t you?”
He slowly raised his head to stare at her more closely. “In my head I do.” His lips hitched in a crooked smile that shot straight through her. “My heart is a different matter.”
Rowan curled her hands around the lip of the granite countertop to keep from reaching out to him. “Anyone can see how much you love those girls.”
No answer.
Rowan tried a teasing grin. “Even if your daily schedule sounds like it comes from a military drill sergeant.”
That earned her a scowl and the return of the forbidding guy from day one.
Damn. As usual, she’d let her tongue take it a step too far.
Only she couldn’t find it in herself to be intimidated. Self-preservation said she should, but he reminded her of Tanya this way. Every so often her adoptive mother’s inner demonic self would take over, her temper rising, and she’d suddenly change. Greyson was like that. Like an inner demon drove him beyond his limits.
Rowan imagined he’d look this way in full hunter mode when taking down a witch or warlock who’d earned a harsh punishment. In control, formidable, all consuming.
Entrancing.
If she wasn’t likely to end up on the wrong end of his magic, she’d find him fascinating rather than terrifying. Almost as though, if she leaned into that darkness, she’d find…
What? A kindred soul?
Rowan gave herself a mental palm to the forehead. What am I thinking?
…
Damn Rowan and damn his instinct to come in here in the first place. He’d leave, only he still had to drink his tea.
Meanwhile, the witch who was his children’s nanny, seemed hell-bent on never reacting the way he would expect.
He’d been drawn out here by a small sound to find her talking to the teapot as though it had been in a race with the clock. With anyone else, he’d be on the phone voicing his concerns to Delilah. But he hadn’t because something about Rowan—something that had been bugging him all week—hinted at an emptiness. As if she had this void of need that went so deep, she couldn’t see the bottom.
He knew that kind of ache. Alone in a crowd.
So he’d tried to offer a bit of compassion. He definitely wasn’t expecting her to turn it back on him and see beneath his own words of comfort to the guilt that ate away at him for being almost relieved when he got to go out into the world. Not that he ever wanted to leave his children. But being able to focus on problems outside their home, and have adult conversations, and not be tied to that schedule, was a break he needed.