Free Shelter Me: A Shelter Novel by Stephanie Tyler

quickly, and I was surprised to see so many hands go up from the start. After several minutes, it boiled down between two buyers, both women. One of them was an older woman, and the other?
    Was Meghan.
    Yes, that Meghan. I wanted to turn to the auctioneer and tell him to just take the older woman's bid and I'd pay the difference, but of course, the universe doesn't work that way.
    "Going once, going twice…a Ryn Taylor private portrait session sold to Miss Meghan VanValen."
    And that announcement in and of itself caused a nice stir among the audience. So much for rehabilitating my image. I was definitely killing Brayden tonight. Or at least strangling him.
    Except by the time I left the stage and went back to our table where my purse was, Brayden was gone.
    "Your boyfriend said the limo's waiting to take you home," one of the women we'd been sitting near told me. "I was watching your bag."
    I didn't bother correcting the boyfriend part, instead smiling with a quick, "Great, thanks," and I was out of there before the small-talk-aperitif section of the party began. I'd done my duty and now I was stuck dealing with Meghan.
    Tomorrow.
    At least Brayden had left me the car, but not a text telling me what happened to him. I texted him a quick, Are you okay? and got a fast, Yes, sorry—talk tomorrow .
    After the crap I'd pulled at my own gallery show, I had no right to be angry. If he had to leave, it couldn't be helped.
    I got home quickly, without incident, my mind still wrapped up in how exactly I was going to handle spending more time with Meghan tomorrow while I unzipped my dress and shrugged out of it. The easiest way to get rid of all the makeup was to shower, especially since my cleavage and arms had been dusted with some kind of shimmer powder. So I let the hot water erase the tension that had set in hard from the moment Meghan had begun bidding on me, and tried to let some creativity creep its way in.
    Tomorrow, I'd paint her. She'd be effectively baring her soul to me—did she not get that? Why would she open herself up to her perceived enemy that way?
    I'd dried off and thrown a long T-shirt on when my cell buzzed. It was after midnight, which meant it could be Brayden. Or…
    Lucas. I debated not answering for the briefest of seconds, but considering how long I'd been waiting to hear from him, that would be foolish.
    "Hey," I said softly.
    "Hey," he echoed. He sounded far away. Tired.
    I was immediately concerned, and any anger I'd held toward him melted, replaced with anger at myself. Why hadn't I checked in with him? He'd literally come running last time I'd called. "Are you all right?"
    "I will be." He paused. "Better now, hearing your voice."
    "Are you home?"
    "Almost. By tomorrow night."
    "Come see me then." It was more than a request, a demand, really, but he didn't seem to mind.
    "Definitely. How's work going tonight? I'm interrupting."
    "No, I didn't start yet." I glanced over toward the room where the supplies were, then settled on the couch instead.
    "Don't want to keep you."
    "You're not," I promised.
    It sounded like he was someplace quiet. I didn't hear sounds of TV or traffic. And despite the tiredness in his tone, he was also oddly alert. "Your doors and windows locked?"
    "Yes."
    "Alarmed?"
    "Yes."
    "You're not running late without me, right?"
    His questions were protective, and it felt much nicer than I'd expected and not at all smothering. "No."
    "Good."
    I thought about telling him about Meghan, but I considered how it might hurt him. I felt that's what Meghan wanted to do, to him and to me, to drive a wedge between us…and I was determined to not be the person in Lucas's life who hurt him. "You couldn't sleep."
    "I never sleep well," he admitted. "After a while, necessity becomes habit."
    "Have you always been a night person? I mean, I assume you are because you were running at three in the morning."
    "Born that way," he agreed. "I've always had trouble going to sleep at a supposedly normal time.