Chapter Seven

Rowan had no idea what she was expecting after the middle of the night moment with Grey. After all, it was just a cup of tea, and she was just his nanny. But somewhere between falling instantly asleep and getting the girls up and ready, she’d convinced herself that last night had to be nothing.

Only she’d been rattled. By his admission that he had problems, too. By the pain in his eyes when she’d brought up his wife. By the way he’d talked about his job as something good for the magical community. He believed that.

But she still shouldn’t trust him. This man had been ordered to hunt her down.

So beyond taking care of his children, her only concern needed to be getting in the way of his investigation and keeping her secrets. Beyond that, keeping her distance was for the best.

Luckily, most of the day she’d managed to stick to that, and Grey seemed to have come to the same conclusion.

That part stung more than she wanted it to. This morning, the girls had been halfway through the scrambled eggs and toast she’d made for breakfast, backpacks already sitting by the door ready to go, when he’d walked in.

Damn, the man could fill out a suit.

Why he insisted on wearing more formal clothing when he was working from home, she had no idea. But, overlaid in her mind, was the image of him rumpled and more casual, and sexy as hell, in his pajamas.

He almost felt out of place to her now in the suit. Like he was hiding the real him. A fanciful thought she mentally smacked down.

He’d completely ignored her beyond a coldly cordial nod of acknowledgment.

“Ready?” he’d asked the girls.

In the usual flurry of last-minute things to grab, he’d managed to get them out of the house. And Rowan had stood in the center of the kitchen frowning after their departing backs and the sudden, strange urge to go with him to drop the girls off. She had no right to want things like that.

No matter what, he was still just her boss.

And the witch hunter after you, she’d mentally berated herself. Several times throughout the day, if she was honest.

Between avoiding him and her own mental peppering of good common sense where he and the girls were concerned, she’d managed to keep her distance all the way through dinner. It helped that Grey had kept his conversation limited to the girls’ days. Back to normal for him, it appeared. After which, Rowan had headed down to her basement rooms, ignoring the small frown he’d sent her when she’d stood up. In her room, she had turned on the TV only to sit and stare at it without really absorbing the shows that flickered across the screen.

Just stay out of his way, and make sure he stays out of yours.

Rowan blew a breath through pursed lips. She’d been doing that a lot lately. As though the tension in her kept blowing her up like a balloon and the only way to release it was to squeeze it from her lungs, one long puff of air at a time.

A glance at the clock told her she’d better check on the girls.

They should be in bed already, but she looked in on them every night. Quietly moving through the house, she tried not to notice the light coming from under Grey’s office door. With a quiet click, she checked Lachlyn’s room first, but found the bed empty. A soft murmur of voices came from the last room, a bigger room created to be more of a playroom for the girls. Though they were almost too old to play in there.

Rowan made a mental note to ask Grey if she could convert it into a teen room with things they’d like. Atleigh was a gamer, so a setup in there might be cool. Chloe loved crafts, so maybe a table and drawers filled with things like that. And Lachlyn was the reader of the three. So a nook with shelves and cushions could be just what she’d love.

Rowan paused outside the entrance to the room, frowning at herself. Now how did I know all that about them? It’s hardly been any time at all.

“We should go to bed,” Lachlyn’s voice caught her attention. “Rowan will be up any minute.”

That made her smile. At least she was doing that consistent thing Grey insisted was important.

“If she catches us awake, she’ll probably want to do something like read us a story,” Chloe said.

“Like we’re still little girls.” Rowan couldn’t see them around the corner but could just picture Atleigh’s roll of her eyes.

With a grin and a shake of her head, she popped into the room. “Too late.”

Shocked open mouths gave way to an exchange of dismayed grimaces that only had Rowan chuckling. “Only I think you’ll like my kind of stories.”

“We don’t need a story,” Atleigh tossed off.

Rowan grabbed a cushion and plopped down on it, ignoring the way they moved to get up. “Everyone loves a good story. Don’t worry. This one isn’t for little girls.”

Doubt stared back at her from three sets of aquamarine eyes. Lachlyn dropped back to where she’d been leaning against the wall, arms crossed. “Okay.”

The other two seemed to take their cues from her and settled as well.

Rowan cleared her throat. “This is a little trick my mother taught me before she died. She used to do this for me every night before bed.”

Unimpressed had a look, and it was preteen girls.

“Before I get started, you have to give me a beginning sentence.”

Atleigh rolled her eyes again. “I bet you don’t have good stories.”

“Try me.”

The girl narrowed her eyes. Then gave a pouting shrug that would give a diva a run for her money. “Fine.” She took an exaggerated breath. “There was a girl misnamed Hope, who…” She left the sentence dangling.

Rowan smiled, then lifted her palm and manifested a small glowing light there. With a whisper of a spell, the glow took the form of a small girl with long blonde hair looking into a pond.

All three girls sat forward, eyes wide.

“Hope guarded a pond deep in the forest into which she poured her own tears. For she’d been gifted with the ability to cure anyone if they drank of the pond of tears.”

The glowing form in her palm leaned forward to blink tears into the pond, the surface rippling with each precious drop.

“Only no one had found her in so long, Hope couldn’t stand the loneliness. She had no idea what was happening in the world around her. So one day…”

The glowing figure wiped her face and got to her feet.

“…she decided to leave her pond and her forest.”

The girls each sat forward now, gazes raptly watching the figure in the woods, the glow casting dancing colors on the walls all around them.

She was taking a risk, revealing this small ability. But it was one that didn’t require much power, and if it meant finding a way to connect with these girls…worth it.

“What happens next?” Chloe whispered.

Rowan smiled. “That depends on you. I need another line.”

…

The late-night tea with Rowan had been a mistake.

He was still clear about that with himself. Keeping a professional distance with her was important for the employee/employer relationship.

But he was starting to realize what having her here could mean for his girls. Greyson stood in the hallway outside the playroom, leaning against the wall, chin to his chest. He watched the play of light on the walls coming from the room and listened to Rowan’s lilting cadence as she told his girls a fantastical tale of a girl who changed the world with her tears. She paused every so often to give them a chance to direct the story with her. He had no idea what the lights were but could hazard a guess. A simple spell that a witch of Rowan’s level could manage.

At first, he’d been tempted to go in and stop her. What kind of frivolous magical use was that teaching his daughters? But then he’d heard the eager fascination in their voices as they discussed the next lines to give Rowan, and he’d stopped himself.

They sound like themselves.

His heart turned inside out in that moment. For the first time in weeks he heard joy and interest in their voices. Not the pouty, grumbling, resentful version of preteens they’d turned into lately, but his bright, funny, eager daughters.

A series of giggles erupted from the room. He’d missed whatever happened in the story. But he didn’t care. The sound of happiness from his babies stole right into his heart. However Delilah had found Rowan, he’d thank her. Because, as unconventional as she seemed with her casual clothes and bare feet and midnight teas and the way she dealt with the girls, she’d somehow managed to do what no other nanny had yet.

She’d made them happy. Even if for a moment.

Hell, he was their father, and he hadn’t made them laugh like that in longer than he cared to admit. Rowan McAuliffe was worth her weight in gold.

Another reason to keep it professional. No way would he mess up how she worked with his kids. Not if this was the kind of results she got.

Another round of giggles had him smiling, but he could also tell Rowan was coming to the end of her story. With more reluctance than he cared to admit, quickly and quietly, avoiding the third step down that always squeaked, he snuck away. Rather than go to bed himself, he went to his office where he sat down in front of his computer only to stare at the black screen, unseeing.

Rowan McAuliffe, in a short period of time, seemed to be changing everything.

The trouble was there were things she didn’t know. One big thing he hadn’t shared with Rowan. Hadn’t shared with any of the nannies. The reason he’d been up last night for tea had more to do with the girls than he’d let on. No way was he trusting anyone other than himself to deal with it.

For now, he’d keep a close eye, but otherwise let her do her thing.

With a flick of his finger, he turned on his laptop. He’d been in the middle of reading a report when he’d heard Rowan go up and, for some inexplicable reason, decided to follow. But he had work to do. Even at a dead stop, like he was with the witch and werewolf case, he was still working with subordinate hunters on other cases. He had at least five more reports to read and give feedback on before he headed to bed.

He didn’t look up until the screen started to blur as his eyeballs protested overuse. Sitting back, he dragged a tired hand over his face, then shut down and went to his room. But the second his head hit the pillow, he knew sleep was going to be elusive again tonight.

Because, despite the heavy lids and sandpaper eyes, his mind would just not shut off. Among a case that had stalled like nothing he’d encountered before, his worries over his girls, trying to be the only parent, and now a red-haired witch whose image wouldn’t leave him alone, he was screwed.

A familiar whistling noise coming from the kitchen abruptly cut off. Rowan was in the kitchen making her middle of the night tea again. He frowned at the ceiling fan over his head. Greyson knew exactly why he couldn’t sleep but suddenly wondered why she couldn’t. What worries could a nanny with no family have?

None of your business.

He managed to force himself to lie in bed another five minutes, determined to ignore the fact that she was in his kitchen right now.

Then, somehow, he was up and down the hall, standing in the shadowed doorway taking in the loose pajama pants and a shirt with stars on it with the words, “night-night time.” As he watched, she rubbed at her left calf with her right foot. An easy, unconscious gesture that, for whatever odd reason, made him want to smile.

Without thinking beyond the moment, he stepped farther into the kitchen. “Can a guy get in on a cup of that?”