Free Hollywood on Tap by Avery Flynn Page A

at her. The incident had exposed a crack in her foundation that would only get worse.
    Sean reached out and covered her white–knuckled hands. So grateful for the understanding, she almost broke apart but pulled back just in time.
    Taking a deep breath, she continued. “My anxiety got worse from then on, but I had my sisters with me all the time. We were like the Three Musketeers, standing together against a town that didn’t much like our family and, by association, us.” It hadn’t been a fun time, but she’d survived. Foolishly, she’d thought the anxiety would disappear as soon as she left Salvation. “Then I went to college, far away from home and my sisters. Halfway through the first semester, I had an anxiety attack so bad I couldn’t leave my dorm room for two weeks. Long story short, Miranda found a therapist who came to see me. Without Dr. Kenning, I’m not sure I would have ever left that room on my own power.”
    She slid a hand free of Sean’s comfort and ran her fingers across the necklace. “Dr. Kenning gave me the necklace at the end of my intensive therapy, as a sort of graduation gift. So now you know, I’m just as kooky as the rest of the Sweets.”
    He squeezed her hand and leaned in close, resting his forehead against hers. “Normal is overrated.”
    “Oh, but wouldn’t it be nice for a change?” She laughed, breaking the spell. An awkwardness seeped into her bones. Only a few people knew the story behind the necklace, and now Sean was one of them. That she’d opened up to him…well, it scared her. Maybe there really was more to him than she’d first thought.
    She offered him a strained smile. “Enough about my mysterious necklace. We have a brewery to save.”
    He raised an eyebrow at her forced cheer but seemed to play along. Her heart hiccuped in her chest. Damn.
    He pulled out a sheaf of papers from the stack he carried. “I hit pay dirt in my office.”
    She straightened in her seat. “What did you find?”
    “The accident reports for the other incidents over the past two weeks.” A sheepish smile took over his normally taciturn expression. “They were at the bottom of the third pile I looked through.”
    “Great.” She took the papers, careful to keep her fingers from brushing his—again. For her own self–preservation, she needed a safety bubble when it came to Sean O’Dell or she’d end up falling for him and that couldn’t happen. “Why don’t I check them out while you add who was around when each accident occurred into the chart.”
    He picked up the blue pen and the notepad from the coffee table.
    “Not that pen.” She grabbed his wrist and a warm tingling sensation danced across her skin, burning her in the best way. So much for her safety bubble. “Here.” She held out the green pen. “Use this one.” Her voice sounded off to her own ears.
    “Why?”
    “Because the blue one is for suspects only.” Surely he could see that, the logic was apparent. “Color coding allows you to take in information at only a glance. It’s very efficient.”
    He raised an eyebrow and gave her the same look people on the subway gave to the guy wearing an aluminum hat and talking to his Hello Kitty watch.
    She was about to launch into a mini–lecture about the many studies that had been done on the subject when he dropped the blue pen and accepted the green one. She mentally did a happy dance. “Thanks.”
    He gave her a questioning look. “For what?”
    “For not making me feel weird.” About the reports, about her habits, about the beer, about pretty much everything that had most folks giving her the side eye.
    “There’s plenty weird about you, but all in a good way.” He turned serious. “Point me in the direction of anyone who ever tells you different and I’ll knock sense into them.”
    Unsure what to say when a flock of butterflies had taken flight in her stomach, she picked up the thick stack of accident reports, determined to get lost in the welcoming