Page 18 of Bait N' Witch

And his nanny was the only one to see that about him. Not even his own mother knew. Maybe because Rowan recognized her own loneliness in him?

But then, just as he was warming up to her, Rowan was calling him a drill sergeant when it came to his children and they were back to square one, with him gritting his teeth.

“I find a schedule and consistency helps,” he said.

And held in a mental grimace. Now he sounded defensive and like a studious professor all at the same time.

“You’re right, of course.” She ducked her head, but he still caught the smile she tried to hide.

Irritation bubbled up like that teakettle over the fire. “Now you’re placating me.”

“Not at all.” She shook her head, her red curls spilling over her shoulders. “This is a sensitive subject. We can talk about something else.”

“I’m not sensitive—”

“It’s okay. Every parent has a different way. It’s whatever works for you. Right?” She hopped off the counter and fiddled with their cups, removing the silver balls full of the leaves and cleaning them out. “I mean, it’s what gets you from one day to the next that counts.”

Greyson struggled to find a reasonable response to that. Somehow, she’d managed to make his being both a drill sergeant and sensitive okay. For a woman with minimal magical abilities, Rowan was a witch in every other sense of the word.

But out of all that, what caught him on the raw was the last bit. “Is that how you feel? Just getting from one day to the next?”

Her hands stilled and then moved slightly faster as if she’d paused and then jumped ahead a beat. “Not when I’m with the girls. But…yeah.”

“Why?”

What on earth could be that hard in a nanny’s life?

She shrugged. “I imagine having a set place in this life is something you’ve always known. Taken for granted even.”

A set place?

As though she’d heard the question, she nodded. “You come from a long magical line that guarantees your position in society. Your abilities grant you automatic respect. People listen to you, don’t they? You have family to love and care for you. Not just the girls but others, even if they’re not immediately here.”

She turned and handed him his teacup, but she refused to look at him. And she was careful not to touch him, offering the cup with the handle facing him.

“I don’t see—”

“You have this house—” She waved around with her free hand. “Roots. Family. Love. A set place in life.”

“And you don’t?”

The smile that came and went was more resigned than amused. “I definitely do not.”

Greyson opened his mouth. He wanted to argue with her. To tell her she was wrong. But not because of the need to be right, more out of a need to make her not right. To take that kind of pain away somehow. Fix it for her.

Only he couldn’t.

Even if she stayed until the girls were old enough not to need a nanny, she’d only be here a few years at most, and then off to her next posting.

“Even a set place in life doesn’t mean you have no problems.” Now where had that come from?

Rowan tipped her head, something in her gaze turning compassionate. “That was insensitive of me. Your wife?”

For once, the pain surrounding Maddie’s death didn’t jump at him, more like a dull throb. “That. And other things.” Like the girls and the questions surrounding their powers. “Being a hunter isn’t exactly safe.”

He wasn’t sure what he expected her reaction to be, but a scowl swiftly smoothed over wasn’t it. “I don’t suppose it would be,” she said slowly. “Why keep doing it then?”

A question he’d asked himself more and more lately.

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