Hidden Scars

by Amanda K. Byrne

  It was easy to admit her curiosity was piqued. It was harder to convince herself he wasn’t worth the pursuit.

  It would pass in a few days. It was the same as it was with any new guy she found intriguing. She’d give it a few days, and this weird itch would disappear.

  Thoughts of Sam crowded her brain, and she pushed them out, one by one. Dating again after the emotional abuse she’d suffered at his whim had been difficult at first, but she was doing it. She enjoyed it, even, the subtle dance humans did to signal attraction. She knew her strengths, and she knew what she wanted. Compromise wasn’t an option. She hadn’t found anyone she was interested in for more than a few dates, and that was fine. She wasn’t in a hurry.

  Her stomach rumbled, a reminder it was past lunch time. Rolling back from her desk, she retrieved her purse and stepped out into the hallway, wondering if she had enough cash in her wallet for some pasta or if she’d have to settle for a sandwich.

  Taylor was intent on his monitor when she passed his open door, and she hesitated. The shiver working its way down her spine was suppressed before it could take over her body. Why had she never noticed him, really noticed him? Better than quietly attractive, there was something about his absolute focus that had her knees going weak. Oh, lordy. She kept her smile firmly in place. Curiosity. That’s all it was. She could indulge curiosity. What the hell. She stuck her head in and smiled. “Hey. I was heading out to pick up something to eat. You hungry?”

  He blinked once, heat flashing in his eyes as he turned that intense gaze on her. And just as quickly, it was gone, and he was shaking his head. “I’m good.” His attention went back to his computer, and her smile slowly faded. Heat aside, she knew a dismissal when she saw one. Her heels clipped down the hall as she shrugged it off, determined not to do it again.

  Two days later, her curiosity got the better of her, and she went back.

  He glanced up at her knock. “Yeah?”

  She couldn’t have imagined that flicker of interest. She pasted on a cheerful smile. “I could use a cup of coffee. You?”

  His smile, however, was bland. “No thanks.”

  Her stomach plunged to her knees. She covered her disappointment with a wave and headed out for her promised cup of coffee. This time she meant it. Twice. He’d said no twice. He probably thought she was trying to work up to asking him out or something.

  She snorted. Dating Taylor? Even if she was interested in dating regularly, he’d be her last choice. Curiosity getting ready to kill the frickin’ cat was all it was.

  Three days later, she asked him about lunch again.

  The next day, she was going on a snack run, did he want in?

  On and on, for almost two weeks. The answer was always the same. No. And she couldn’t seem to stop herself.

  * * *

  The morning after her latest attempt, she passed his office without stopping. Stubbornness hadn’t gotten her anything except a one-way trip to Embarrassville. Taylor wanted to be left alone. Message received.

  In her office, she brooded while she waited for her computer to boot up. It had to be the whole mystery thing. His silence, how he could walk around without being noticed, the tattoo, the scars, it all pointed to some secret he had locked away. And she did love a good mystery.

  He wasn’t cooperating. Since it wasn’t a matter of life and death, letting it go was her best option. Her only option, really, because if she kept at him, she’d make a fool out of herself. He wasn’t worth it.

  He was also interfering with her productivity. She’d commanded her latest raise because the department would tank without her. It wasn’t bragging on her part; it was a statement of fact. Her record was nothing short of exemplary, and her boss was bent on keeping her.

  If she wanted to continue to make the mortgage payments on the cute little bungalow she’d purchased out near Reed College, she needed to get to work.

  She eyed the door. She rarely closed it; she could work through interruptions without losing her rhythm.

  Still, closing the door was a good, symbolic move. She was shutting off the idiotic attempts she’d been making to get Taylor to talk. Getting to her feet, she crossed to the door and closed it, the click satisfying. She followed it up by pulling her mp3 player from her bag, inserting her earbuds, and hitting play.

  The sound of Alice in Chains flooded her ears at a noise level she was pretty sure most audiologists would shake their fingers at, but she needed to drown out thought. And if her therapist approved of the tactic, who was she to argue?

  Over the pounding guitars and Layne Staley’s plaintive vocals, she finished up a report her boss needed for a client meeting, shot it off, and switched over to their newest proposal. She worked steadily through the morning, Alice in Chains making way for Sevendust, putting everything she had into polishing the proposal going out for bid next week. All she needed was Larry to give the okay for her to pitch it.

  She came up for air, pulling out the ear buds to check her voicemails. She handled two clients in a row, assuring them she would do everything she could to make sure they got exactly what they were looking for.

  And hung up cursing the exec in charge of providing those services.

  Jeremy had screwed up. Again. Forcing her to pick up his slack. Again. Why was he still employed? Her annoyance was compounded by the knock at her door, followed by Kaylin sticking her head in, blond ponytail swinging forward. “Yo. You’ve had your door shut all morning. It’s almost two. You need a break.”

  She didn’t, didn’t want to break the momentum. Her stomach, on the other hand, agreed with Kaylin’s statement. And dining with Kaylin would keep her from making a fool out of herself yet again. “Happy’s?”

  “Happy’s,” she confirmed. She stepped back as Sara walked out into the hallway, falling in beside her. “So. When’re you gonna give me all the details about your unexpected sleepover?”

  Sara groaned. Kaylin was one of those people you didn’t mind at work and avoided hanging out with outside of it. The woman worked in HR, and since everything in the office flowed through them, Kaylin was a central hub of information. Nothing got by her. Including Sara’s delayed return from Chicago.

  “Seriously. We got stuck at the Red Lion overnight. We went to sleep, got up the next day, and came home.” Despite having made this assertion several times already, Kaylin had yet to accept it as fact. Sara hoped this time would be different.

  “Nuh uh. Can’t be true. Something has to have happened.” Kaylin slid a sidelong glance at her, her green eyes gleaming.

  “Why do you think that?”

  “Because you stayed in the same room. You’re attractive. Taylor’s attractive, when you remember he’s in the room. Two attractive people equals nookie.”

  She snorted. “There’s a mighty big flaw in your logic there, Kaylin. We didn’t share a room,” she lied. “Ergo, you’re wrong.” And even if Kaylin found out the truth, she’d still be wrong, because nothing did happen in that room.

  “Then how come Taylor hasn’t submitted an expense report for that night?”

  “I don’t know!” She threw up her hands. “Maybe he hasn’t done it yet. Or maybe he decided to eat the cost himself. I sent him the billing information. I’m not his personal assistant.” Her lovely sense of satisfaction at having worked through an entire morning without being distracted by Taylor sluiced away. She cast about for a different topic. “How’s Derek?” Kaylin had complained about Derek, her boyfriend, on a few occasions. Maybe there’d be some new drama to take the spotlight off her.

  It worked. Kaylin rattled off a laundry list of complaints, dominating the conversation through lunch and all the way back to the office. Sara begged off when they reached her floor. Shutting the door again, she repeated her little ritual from the morning, substituting the angry rock for some Decemberists.

  Her back ached by the time she surfaced again, her player long having gone silent. Almost eight. Overtime. Yay! Her mortgage would thank her. With a grin
, she shut down her computer for the night, gathered her things, and headed home.

  The bus ride sped by as she kept her bleary gaze trained on the passing scenery. Home was a chant, running through her brain, and she wondered if she had any leftovers in the fridge or if she’d be stuck with another salad.

  Her front steps creaked as she climbed them a half hour later, and her shoes skittered across the hardwood floor when she kicked them off once inside. Tossing her coat over the back of the couch on her way to the kitchen, she opened a cupboard for a wine glass and poured herself a generous serving of Syrah.

  She loved her house. The price on the two plus bedroom bungalow had been slashed when she’d seen it, and she immediately called for a showing. It was perfect for her needs. The walls were in severe need of paint, and she needed a hell of a lot more furniture, but it was hers. Her sanctuary. Her fortress. No one would be breaching these walls unless she wanted them to.

  Dinner could wait. She had to do something about the stiffness in her shoulders. She made her way to her bedroom, lecturing herself into hanging up her slacks and folding her sweater before she walked into the adjoining bathroom and flipped on the shower.

  Under the pounding spray, the last bit of tension in her belly evaporated, taking some of the muscle stiffness with it. A few more days like this, and she’d be fine. Maybe she’d even try to scare up a date for the weekend. Nate had called her a few days after she’d returned from Chicago, but she’d been too busy playing catch up, and too busy stalking Taylor, to do much more than call him back and make an excuse.

  Good thing he was so laid back.

  If she’d been after more than the occasional date, Nate would be a good fit. It was part of why she’d gone on more than a handful of dates with him. Oh, sure, she’d interspersed those with other guys, and she knew he was seeing other women. But he was easy to get along with, funny, cute, intelligent, and easy to talk to.

  Unlike some men she knew.

  Grr. She was not going to ruin her good day by thinking about that idiot. She was going to get out of the shower, call Nate, and if he hadn’t gotten serious about someone else in the last few weeks, she was going to see him this weekend. Possibly sooner.

  Sooner was good. She could break her own rule about dates on weeknights for him.

  Warm, dry, marginally less tense, and clad in fleece pants and a pullover, she wandered out into her living room with her wine and hunted up her phone. She sank onto the couch and pulled up his number.

  Nate’s gravelly voice instructed her to leave a message. “Hey, it’s Sara. Work’s finally calmed down, you up for dinner soon?” She disconnected at the question and tossed her phone onto the couch beside her.

  What would Taylor be doing right now? Eating dinner? Working out? Having sex? Did Taylor even have sex?

  She groaned. It didn’t matter whether he did or not. The man needed to be relegated to the filing cabinet in her brain of people labeled lost causes. He was a man who had his secrets and obviously wasn’t interested in sharing them with anyone.

  She knew all about not sharing secrets.

  The news coverage of the hostage situation in Sacramento hadn’t made the papers up here. And even if it had, it was seven years ago.

  Not that she was keeping track.

  She no longer had nightmares of Sam waving that huge hunting knife in her face. It might have taken her years to reach a point where she could date again, but she’d used them wisely and built a life. A life with friends, a job she disliked more and more each day, and hopefully a date this weekend with a guy whose company she enjoyed. Nate couldn’t cut her to tiny pieces with a single comment. And she’d taken enough self-defense classes to be confident she could get away if he so much as lifted a hand to her.

  She unfolded herself from her spot on the couch and walked into her kitchen, yanked open the fridge and perused the contents. Guess she’d be eating salad again. Tomorrow she’d leave at a reasonable time and do her grocery shopping.

  Her phone rang while she was chopping vegetables for a salad, and she grinned at the name on the display. She hit Accept and switched the phone to speaker. “Hey, lady. How’s the city of angels?”

  Krista, her best friend, snorted. “Smoggy. Like always. Am I interrupting?”

  “Long as you don’t mind me crunching in your ear, talk away.” As Krista chattered about her latest project, Sara finished putting the salad together and leaned against the counter, digging into her meal.

  She’d built a life. The only one who got to wreck it was her.

  Chapter Three

  He needed coffee. He needed a vat of coffee. Taylor entered the break room and made a beeline for the coffeemaker. It would be shitty coffee, but it was there, and it was free.

  A tiny part of his brain registered another person in the room. A surreptitious glance confirmed it was Sara, engrossed in a book. The book didn’t fit with the image he had of her. Friendly, gregarious Sara should be engaged in conversation. Or simply not there, out at some trendy yet affordable lunch place.

  The other image lodged in his brain was of her sitting cross-legged on a bed, t-shirt bagging around her, absently nibbling on a French fry as she stared at the TV. Free of makeup, her suit, and pretenses.

  She intrigued him. It’d been a long time since he’d met anyone who roused his curiosity as much as Sara did, and he wanted to know what was going on inside her head as much as he wanted to kiss her senseless and hear her begging for more. But her nerves and the fear he’d seen on her face that night held him back. Until he had a better handle on what she could handle, he’d keep her at a distance. Most people had no idea how much of themselves they gave away without ever saying a word.

  She didn’t look up as he moved around the break room. He faded into the background, as usual. Another glimpse gave him the name of the book holding her attention: Invisible Wounds by Rebekah Cross. He tucked the scrap of information away, adding it to his dossier of Sara.

  He’d collected information like that for the Pretty Boys. With them, he’d learned never to ask what it was for.

  Pushing the thought from his mind, he busied himself with the coffee, attempting to cover some of the burnt taste with fake creamer. Footsteps echoed in the room and a chair scraped along the floor. He glanced over his shoulder to find the source. Kaylin, the blonde from HR and the queen of office gossip, had planted herself at the table.

  This could be interesting. While Kaylin had probably seen him when she came in, chances were she’d already forgotten about him. He smiled inwardly and picked up his coffee. He could pick up a couple pieces to the puzzle of Sara.

  Kaylin launched right into whatever it was she wanted as he sat with his back to the room, the table by the window far enough away to give the two women an illusion of privacy if Kaylin kept her voice down. Which she didn’t.

  “So when are you going to go out with my brother again?”

  There was the sound of a book hitting the table. “Kaylin, I’m not really interested in dating right now.”

  “Bull. Luke said the two of you had a great time, but you won’t return his calls.”

  “Really.” Steel laced her tone. “Did Luke also happen to mention his idea of a ‘great time’ was pawing at my boobs without permission?”

  Silence. Taylor sipped his coffee, waiting to hear how the confrontation would play out.

  “Luke didn’t say anything.” No shit. No man would admit to that sort of behavior to a sister. “Are you sure it wasn’t a misunderstanding?” Kaylin’s voice sounded small, yet indignant. He allowed himself a grin. Didn’t want to admit her brother wasn’t quite the gentleman he claimed to be.

  “Yes. He misunderstood my ‘no’ to be a ‘yes.’” A chair scraped back, and he pictured Sara standing next to the table, vibrating with fury. Her brown eyes would be lit with it, her cheeks flushed.

  Heels clicked over the linoleum, and instinct told him someone had left. Most likely Sara. Five more minutes. That was the aver
age amount of time for someone to forget there was another person nearby. If Kaylin left first, so much the better.

  By the time he escaped back to his office, he’d finished the disgusting cup of coffee and wished he’d left as soon as he’d gotten his cup. Hearing about Sara’s date, failed as it was, left him with a growl in his belly.

  He shoved it away. Inappropriate, and completely unnecessary.

  Work closed over his head, the repetition of dealing with client after client blanking his mind. It always gave him a kind of smug satisfaction, surprising everyone with his skills at client relations. But Larry trusted him with the clients who needed a hell of a lot of hand holding because he had an endless store of patience. He kept his voice down, never made promises he knew he couldn’t keep, and waited them out when they wanted to rant. He’d grown up with ranting and cursing. He couldn’t walk down the street back home without hearing or seeing at least one fight, and he’d learned the hard way the most effective way to stay alive was to stay out of it.

  He rolled the kinks out of his neck, the small cracks satisfying as he glanced at the time. Four PM. He blinked. Coffee break aside, he’d been working uninterrupted since eight that morning. It’d been almost a week since Sara’s last friendly overture, but he’d quickly gotten used to her poking her head in at random times of the day.

  A week. Maybe observing from the sidelines for a while wasn’t a good idea. The longer he waited, the greater the chance she’d lose interest. He wanted to get to know her. Not put her off more.

  Decision made, he pushed back from his desk and stood. Her office was only a few doors from his. Hopefully she’d be in it.

  He was in luck. His knock on the doorjamb had her head snapping up and friendly smile flashing. It faded from her eyes, remaining only on her lips, as soon as she saw who it was. “Taylor. What can I do for you?”

  Now that he was here, he wasn’t sure what to do next. He tucked his hands in his pockets. “Haven’t seen you in a few days. You usually stop in,” he added when her brow arched.