Free Wolfsbane by Ronie Kendig Page B

them.
    Yeah, she felt it, too.
    “Have you two met?” Elbows propped on the table and fingers threaded, Willow glanced between them, her curiosity screaming.
    “I—” Canyon ripped his gaze from Roark’s. “No.” Not technically.
    Embarrassed at the way he’d lost focus, he scoured the table for his mother’s sweet potato casserole but saw nothing but porcelain containers with things too fancy to recognize. The expense alone could feed an entire Third World country. He reached for a bowl of something green. Hoped it was edible.
    “Really?” Disbelief thickened Willow’s words. “Well, why don’t I introduce you two? Canyon, this is Senator Roark’s beautiful daughter, Danielle. The woman our dear, waterlogged brother rescued from the Gulf. Danielle, this is my ruggedly handsome brother, Canyon, who can’t seem to keep his eyes off you.”
    Willow had a mouth bigger than a C-130—and he was about to drive a nuke straight into it. He glanced at Roark, noticing the way she hung her head. Her cheeks pinked.
    “We … uh, met.” Roark tried to be brave against his sister’s directness. “At my hearing.”
    “Her hearing?” Willow arched an eyebrow. “What were
you
doing there?”
    “Consulting.” They certainly didn’t need to rehash what had happened. “You’d think you would’ve cultivated some manners at that prep school of yours.”
    Besides, hadn’t Range laid some claim to Roark, warned Canyon to back off? Curiosity made him check his little brother—and sure enough, Range glowered. Temptation to egg his brother on vied for Canyon’s submission. And won. He flashed his most charming smile. “Nice to meet you officially, Miss Roark.”
    She smiled—a tentative, awkward one that wavered.
    Whoa, that’d gotten way more reaction than he expected. Wasn’t she smitten with his brother? Dark hair curled over her shoulders and swung into her long, graceful neck. Nice, prominent cheekbones had filled out since he’d seen her last. The bruise was gone as far as he could tell in the low lighting.
    Willow nudged him. “See? Can’t keep your eyes off her.”
    “Pass the potatoes,” he said, giving her his fiercest warning look. “What is all this stuff? Where’s the ham and beans?”
    “Catered by Mrs. Roark.”
    Canyon’s gaze shot to Roark’s.
    “Not me—my stepmother.” Regret streaked through her tawny features. “I–I’m sorry. She didn’t want your mom to have to worry about cooking. And well, Abigail tends to go overboard.” She chewed the inside of her lip, her gaze again drawn down.
    Everything in her demeanor screamed victim. He’d seen it on others, but on her—he hated it. She didn’t wear it well. He’d seen more fire and brimstone in her gaze at the hearing. Where was that woman?
    “So, Danielle,” Willow said, clearly exercising every ounce of social skill she contained to draw the woman out of her shell. “How did you ever get into demolitions?”
    Her fork played hopscotch with her food but never quite made it home. “I love science.” What was she hiding behind that tight, controlled answer?
    “That is so cool.” Willow folded her arms and leaned on the table. “So, you really blow things up?”
    Canyon stabbed a red potato and slid it into his mouth.
    This time, a real smile spread through the woman’s pink, full lips, even tugging out a laugh. The sound eased at least one of the knots in Canyon’s shoulders.
    “No way.” Leif’s teenage voice cracked. “Blow up, as in C4 and detonators?”
    “No kidding, Sherlock.” Willow tossed a roll at him. “What’d you think? Bubble gum and balloons?”
    Canyon eyed Roark, whose laugh drifted through the cool night and encircled his mind. This was better. Maybe another hour or two with the insane Metcalfe zoo would have her loosened up and relaxed. What would she be like then?
    Suddenly her gaze hit his—and bounced off, taking with it her smile. She set her napkin on her lap and excused herself. He