Free Guarding Grayson by Cathryn Cade

back. “Looks like the last empty table just disappeared.”
    An older waitress appeared as soon as they sat. She plunked glasses of ice water before them and set a hand on her hip expectantly.
    “What’ll it be, folks? Frost and Lacey here have already ordered.”
    “Cheese-burgerzz,” Brynne-E’ea said. “With fried potato morsels. And shaken ice cream, large size.”
    “Oh, you mean a milk-shake, hon?” the waitress said, looking completely unsurprised by E’ea’s strange speech. “Chocolate or vanilla?”
    “Chock-oh-laht.” Brynne’s brown eyes widened with avarice. A hint of gold gleamed under her lashes, and Gray nudged her under the table with his leg.
    She blinked, and the gold disappeared. Across the table, Lacey looked like she was trying not to laugh, while her tall husband merely continued to watch Brynne and Gray as is assessing potential threats. Dude must be ex-military, maybe even spec ops. Gray had an uncle who watched everyone that way, even into his eighties.
    “I’ll have a cheeseburger, salad and an iced tea,” Gray said.
    “Got it. I’ll put a rush on this, so it’ll be up with the others.”
    The waitress hustled away, leaving the four of them.
    “So you’re an artist, Grayson,” Lacey said, her eyes twinkling. “’bout all I could ever do was paint-by-number, so I admire people with talent like yours. Do you paint scenery or animals? I have the cutest painting of my Golden Retriever, done by one of our animal shelter volunteers.”
    Gray managed not to curl his lip—barely. “No, I paint people.” Including those weren’t alive yet, apparently.
    “Oh, I see.” Lacey’s smile widened. “People are pretty fascinating. Maybe you could do a portrait of my husband for me.” She gave her tall, expressionless husband a melting look.
    The man shook his head at her, his mouth finally curving up in a smile. “I do not believe Grayson Stark is interested in painting anyone here in Magic,” he told her, in a deep, cool voice. “None of us are famous on Earth for criminal tendencies.”
    Lacey giggled. “I know. I’m sorry, Gray, I was just teasing you. I know your work. You are amazingly talented, although I do find your subject matter a teensy bit depressing. I wouldn’t want a drug lord like that Fenretti scowling at me from my living room wall.”
    “That is because you are not a billionaire socialite who wishes to impress all her equally jaded friends,” Frost said, his gaze meeting Gray’s. “Or the buyer for a modern art museum. These are Mr. Stark’s customers.”
    Gray gave him back an equally cool look. “Good enough description. Although I did sell one portrait to the subject—a hedge fund manager who bilked millions from his clients, but skated on a legal technicality.”
    All because the slime ball had better lawyers than the government of the state where he’d operated. He didn’t give a hoot that Gray had portrayed him for what he was—a conscienceless sociopath. Rumor had it the portrait hung in one of his many homes, right where he could show it off to guests.
    “One could say you do a kind of public service,” Lacey said. “Portraying criminals for who they are instead of the glamorous façade they like to project. But any time you decide to paint a pretty animal, let me know.”
    Gray grinned at her. “You’ll be first on my list. So you work at the animal shelter?”
    “Yes, I don’t suppose you need a dog or a cat? My golden just had puppies, and we're looking for good homes.”
    “Sorry, no. Had a dog growing up, and intend to have another one of these days. Just not to that place in my life yet.”
    “That’s so sad,” she said, her gaze going sympathetic. “Animals make our lives so much richer.” She twinkled at Brynne. “How about you, Brynne? D’you like animals?”
    Gray winced, wondering what E’ea would come up with.
    “I find animals fascinating,” she said. “I particularly enjoy the antics of the young. I would