Free Hidden Scars by Amanda K. Byrne

breathe again. Passing out would give him the wrong idea.
           Her own lips stretched in answer, and she stepped back and waved him inside. If he’d been anyone else, she would have taken a few precious minutes to show him the house, rambled on about the plans she had for painting the rooms, replacing the cabinets in the kitchen and bathrooms, fixing up the yard once she learned a thing or two about gardening. She said none of these things, pulling a jacket from the hall closet instead and slipping it on.
           She loved how they didn’t need to talk. By now, any one of her friends would have been nattering away, and so far he’d managed this entire exchange without a single word. It was calming, in a weird way, his silence. It went a long way toward eliminating her jitters over the botched hug from the other night.
           She set her alarm, locked the door, and walked down the steps to the car.
           Powell’s was crowded. Far more crowded than she’d expected. Rebekah Cross might be a best-selling author, and a homegrown one at that, but Sara’d seen the difference between genre author signings and snooty book award winning author signings, and Rebekah Cross definitely fell into the snooty book award winning category. There was a line out the door when the author of an insanely popular series of vampire books had stopped in, and she hadn’t even done a reading.
           They wove around tables and other patrons to the room where the reading would take place, Taylor’s hand on her lower back. She was getting used to it there. And if she found herself wishing he’d maybe slide his arm around her waist, well, the man wasn’t a mind reader.
           She wished she had the confidence to move his hand to her hip, snuggle into his side. Someday. Maybe someday soon.
           While the room wasn’t crammed full, all of the seats were taken. They found a spot in the back, and he stood behind her, ensuring her personal bubble wouldn’t be violated. The sweetly protective gesture made her smile. She took off her jacket and folded it over her arm.
           She could feel the heat of him behind her. Close behind her. Closer than he needed to be. What would happen if she stepped back, leaned against his chest? Better not tempt fate. She faced him instead. The reading wouldn’t start for another ten minutes, and she didn’t particularly want to carry on a conversation over her shoulder. “Thanks for mentioning this to me. I doubt I would have remembered if you hadn’t said something.”
           He nodded once, his face in its usual inscrutable mode. Carefully blank. Meant to appear non-threatening. To melt into the background. Like the rest of him. If she hadn’t seen his tattoo all those weeks ago, she might not be here.
           No, she would. Just not with Taylor.
           “How did you know I liked Rebekah Cross?” She was almost certain it had never come up in conversation, although she’d talked about books often enough, it was possible. And he had this uncanny ability to remember the tiniest detail.
           For a split second, he looked uncomfortable. It smoothed out as quickly as it came on. “You were reading one of her books at lunch a while ago.
Invisible Wounds
.”
           He
really
remembered the tiniest details. She’d reread
Wounds
almost two months ago.
           Someone tried to squeeze past her, sending her stumbling forward. She threw out her hands on instinct to catch herself and they connected with Taylor’s chest. Heat flared over her cheeks when he caught her hips, steadying her. “Sorry,” she mumbled, jerking back and peering up at him through her lashes.
           His hands stayed on her hips.
           His expression didn’t offer an explanation. Stupid to expect one there. Stupid to expect an explanation at all. By now she knew he didn’t do anything unless he meant it. Tilting