Free Raising Hell by Julie Kenner

yeah.”
    “I’d be happy to return to that task if it will make you more comfortable.”
    She shot him a warning look, but the twinkle in her eye reflected her amusement. “I’m being silly, I know. But I’ve been a little shy my whole life. What happened there, just now,” she said, gesturing toward the bed. “I mean, the way I let that sheet fall like that. That wasn’t me. I mean, it was me. But—”
    “You’re a model, Delilah,” he said gently. “You were modeling for me.”
    An expression that could only be relief swept her face. “Of course. I—I was being silly. For a second there it felt almost like I was in a trance. How stupid is that, right?”
    He shrugged, trying to quell the bubble of guilt building in his chest. “The job can be dull,” he said. “Most models find themselves lost in their own thoughts after a while. It’s the only way to sit there without becoming overwhelmingly bored.”
    “Of course. That must be it. But now I’m going to be incredibly late.” She rushed toward her room, with Nick following behind.
    “I called the agency last night,” Nick said. “Remember? I explained the situation and arranged for a temp.”
    “Right,” she said. “I remember. But that’s not what I’m late for.”
    He raised an eyebrow, an uncomfortable wash of emotion flooding through him. Jealousy? Surely not. What reason did he have to be jealous? Especially of something as trivial as her time.
    No, the only emotion that made sense was frustration. Her time was his, after all. That was the deal they’d made.
    “Beck and call,” he said. “Remember our deal? The reason you’re now living in my guest room.”
    She stopped, her head now poking out of the T-shirt she’d thrown on. “You’re serious? But you’ve been painting me all morning. And this is important. I made a commitment. I can’t just cancel it.”
    “This?”
    “The literacy group at the arts center. Today’s my day to work with some of the students. I can’t let them down. They’re depending on me.”
    “I see.”
    She looked at him, her eyes narrowed in concentration. “Do you?” He didn’t answer, which was for the best as she didn’t seem to expect a response. “Nick, you’re an amazing painter. But haven’t you ever wanted to share that gift? To help someone else learn to show their view of the world on canvas or paper?”
    In truth, he never had. His upbringing had been sketchy at best. Raised haphazardly by his father since his mother’s death in childbirth, the one consistency in his life had been a deep-seated knowledge that—above all else—he needed to take care of himself. The thought of wasting time helping someone else learn to paint had never occurred to him. Not in all his centuries.
    “Are you suggesting I find someone else with an innate talent and mentor them?” That, perhaps, he could understand. Certainly he’d tutored under the best. Michelangelo, da Vinci. Not formally of course, but he’d learned what he could from them.
    “Well, no,” she said. “I mean, I think that would be a nice thing, and any artist would be lucky to study with you. But I meant someone new to the arts. Maybe someone without much talent at all. But who might enjoy the chance to learn a bit about it.”
    He blinked at her. Squandering his painting time to help someone else who might one day bring a masterpiece into the world… well, while he hated the idea of squandering his time, at least he could see the purpose of the exercise. But to steal time from himself merely so someone without an ounce of talent could learn to draw a bunny rabbit… well, that made no sense to him whatsoever.
    He was about to say as much when he saw Delilah’s eyes light up. “Why don’t you come with me now?”
    “Come with you?” The idea was so absurd he almost laughed. He wasn’t interested in going with her. He was interested in keeping her from going at all.
    “Sure. I know there’s an art class going on right