Skin (McCullough Mountain 2) (10 page)

Finn returned and she was quiet. He hadn’t
changed or even cleaned himself up, but for some reason he looked
different. A protective urge rushed through her as she thought
about Erin.

Finn was a good guy and if Erin couldn’t see
that she didn’t deserve him. There was no way Mallory would sit
idly by and watch him go back. No. She’d make it her personal
mission to find him someone who could appreciate his humor and
kindness, not find fault in those admirable qualities.

“You ready?”

She turned to the man who had monopolized
her thoughts over the last twenty minutes. “Yes.”

“I just have to run upstairs and change.
I’ll be back in five.”

While Finn was gone, Mallory helped clear
the table, and started rinsing the dishes.

“Oh, I’ll do that, love,” Mrs. McCullough
said, appearing at her side with an armful of plates.

“It’s okay. You cooked.”

She smiled and took up the rag to begin
drying. “You and Finnegan going out somewhere?”

“He’s going to take me to the field. He said
I could run there, if that’s all right with you?”

“What’s chasin’ you?”

She smiled. “That’s what he always says. I’m
trying to be more active.”

Finn’s mother, who was rounded in an
expectable way for her age and the fact that she’d birthed a
gazillion big men who likely started as big babies, gave her a
scrutinizing inspection. “Nothin’ wrong with being active. It’s
good for your heart. But don’t lose too much of those feminine
curves, love. A man likes a bit of meat to hold onto.”

A rush of blood heated Mallory’s cheeks. She
focused on the dish she was washing and prayed Finn would return
soon.

When the last dish was put away, Finn came
down. He wore loose fitting charcoal gray sweats and a faded green
baseball T-shirt. He laced up his sneakers with a few quick tugs
and stood. “Ready, Philly?”

Words. Say words!
She swallowed. He
looked hot as hell. “Yeah,” she croaked.

The field was only a short drive from the
house. She was amazed to see it was actually a baseball field,
complete with bleachers and all.

“We have a league with the bar. It’s sort of
a tradition, generations old, that we play every year, so my dad
and my uncles made the field.”

“Wow.” What else could she say? How many
people owned mountains and baseball diamonds?

He climbed out of the truck and handed her a
bottle of chilled water. She was grateful he remembered. She’d been
so out of sorts that morning it had slipped her mind to grab
anything.

Taking the water, she walked over to the
bleachers, placed the water on the first step, and then proceeded
to stretch. He watched her for a moment as though he’d never seen
stretching before.

“Are you going to stretch?” she asked as he
continued to gawk. Her face and shoulders were warm under the sun,
but she knew part of her flush was the result of him continuously
watching her.

He twisted his torso a few times carelessly
then seemed to think that was enough warming up. “I’m thinking four
diamonds makes a rough mile. How many laps do you want to do?” he
asked.

She did some quick math in her head. “Let’s
walk four, run eight, and walk the last two.”

His eyes bulged. “That’s like four
miles!”

“Yeah. That’s what I usually do.”

He drew in a deep breath. “You’re gonna kill
me.”

She slapped his shoulder and loped off
toward first base. The sound of his sneakers beating against the
sand crept up behind her. Her ponytail was yanked and then Finn
passed in a flash of green.

“You’re gonna get a cramp,” she called as he
rounded second.

She was crossing home plate when he lapped
her again. Her heart rate was picking up by her second lap and he
was running out of breath. She picked up her pace and began pumping
her arms.

Finn was walking beside her. “We should’ve
grabbed a radio.”

“My iPod’s in my bag.”

“It’s called an
I-
pod because it’s
only meant for one person, Philly.”

She crossed home plate, shrugged, and broke
into a jog. He kept pace with her and she sensed his eyes on her.
“Why are you being so quiet?”

Her breath punched in and out of her lungs.
“It’s…hard…to…talk and…run…”

They made the next few laps in silence. When
she passed the bleachers she stripped off her sweatshirt. It was
too damn hot to worry about vanity. She jogged off and he seemed to
lag behind, but she never lost track of his pounding footsteps on
her tail.

“You tired, Irish?” she teased as she
doubled her pace.

“Just enjoying the view.”

Her steps stumbled and she shot him a look
over her shoulder as soon as she righted her footing. He smirked
and she slowed. Was he looking at her ass? Good God, why?

She fell back until she was running beside
him and his gaze remained resolutely straight ahead. Sweat trickled
down her cleavage and her neck was slick.

It was strange exercising in the presence of
others. She’d thought it would bother her more, but she was
actually a little proud she was keeping pace with someone as fit as
Finn.

When they passed the bleachers again, he
veered off and returned to her side a minute later. “Here,” he
said, handing her a bottle of water.

She uncapped it and took a few swigs.
“Thanks,” she gasped.

Her legs burned as they made their
fourteenth lap. Her heart was racing and her shirt was soaked. Finn
kept snagging glances as she ran that last quarter mile and she was
extremely conscious of how little a sports bra did for a woman her
size.

When they crossed home plate, she fell into
a clipped walk, and started to catch her breath. Her sides burned
and her blood pumped as she began to cool down.

“That’s was intense, Philly. You do that
every day?”

“Unless it’s raining.”

“You could use the track at the school gym
when it rains.”

He was in such good shape his voice didn’t
even struggle after running nearly four miles. She gazed at his
chest. He was breathing heavily and the fabric was soaked with a
“V” of perspiration, but otherwise he looked perfect.

“I do sit-ups and stuff on the days it
rains. But thanks for the offer.”

He drank the rest of his water and tossed it
into a receptacle by the bleachers. “What are we doing after
this?”

We?
“I have to get my clothes and
stuff ready for tomorrow.”

“So after you spend five minutes doing that,
what are you doing?”

She snorted and mopped the sweat off her
forehead. “I need to shower and it takes me a lot longer than five
minutes to put together an outfit.”

“You look good in jeans. Look good in
dresses too.”

She eyed him skeptically. Her clothes were
decent, but she rarely thought she looked good in anything. As she
finished her last lap, her legs quivered from exertion. In an hour
there would be that rewarding burn that came with hard exercise.
She finished her water and threw the bottle in the recycling
can.

“Ugh, I’m disgusting. I hate sweat.”

“You look good in sweat.”

She blinked at him. “What?”

“What?” he echoed innocently. “You look good
in sweat.”

“Ew. No I don’t!”

He stepped closer and she frowned. “Sure you
do. Your cheeks are all rosy and your lips are parted. You’re
breathing heavy. You look like a woman who’s been…”

Her brow lowered and she stepped away. “Stop
looking at me like that. And get your head out of the gutter. Come
on. I need to go home and shower and you’re my ride. I stink.”

It wasn’t fair for him to look at her like
that and make sexual comparisons when they were friends. It
complicated things. As much as she could whip up some fun fantasies
about Finn, that’s all they would ever be. Fantasy.

It was dangerous to even entertain ideas
like that regarding him. One, because it would never happen. Guys
like that didn’t go for girls like her. Two, even if she could
convince him to give her one night of no strings great sex, he’d
eventually find Mrs. Right and she’d have to stomach it. And three,
she really liked having him as a friend and didn’t want to ruin
it.

When they returned to her apartment she
assumed he’d just drop her off and go on his way, but he followed
her inside. “I need to shower.”

“So shower. Get your stuff together for
tomorrow and then we’ll go grab lunch. I’ll even go somewhere with
salads if you want.”

Was this because he and Erin had broken up
and he didn’t know what to do without her? Was she filler? “What
would you normally be doing right now?”

“Hanging out on my own couch watching
television with my dad.”

“And Erin?”

He grunted. “No. She never comes to my
house. Says it’s too much chaos and gives her a headache.”

“Didn’t you go to her house sometimes?”

He shrugged. “Sometimes. Not much.”

“What did you guys do for fun, like couple
stuff?”

His shoulder lifted as he stared at the TV,
remote targeted in that direction, thumb casually flipping
channels. “I don’t know. Went to O’Malley’s. I’d drive her to the
mall now and then. Nothing really.”

“Didn’t you go on dates?”

He stared at the ceiling for a moment. “Not
really. At least not for a while. She always had something going on
and I never really was into the stuff she was. Come to think about
it, if we go to lunch it will be the first time I took a girl to a
restaurant in a long time. Funny, Erin and I dated but we were
never really friends. It’s a lot easier to hang out with friends.
Less expectation, more of just being ourselves.”

They went to a little diner in town. She had
a salad and Finn had half a cow shoved between a roll. They talked
about his time growing up in Center County and her time growing up
in the City of Brotherly Love. It amazed her how differently
outsiders saw Philadelphia. Finn knew all about the museums and the
steps Rocky climbed, from visiting his brother at school. He didn’t
see the poverty and rough parts she’d come to know as her home.

“I had one of those cheese steaks when I was
there,” he said as if it was a major accomplishment. “That was
good.”

“From where? Geno’s, Pat’s, or Tony
Luke’s?”

“I don’t think it was any of them.”

“Then it wasn’t a real Philly steak.”

“It was still better than any steak sandwich
you can get around here.”

“It’s been four months since I had a cheese
steak.”

“You gonna have one when you visit home?” he
asked, popping a fry in his mouth.

“No, but I might run the steps of the Museum
of Art.”

“Yeah, Balboa? I’d like to see that. You
could do it.”

She grinned at his belief in her.
“Thanks.”

After lunch they drove to the mall because
she needed stockings and the kind from the pharmacy always ripped.
She didn’t want to be anywhere near a plus sized store with him,
but he was turning into a rash she couldn’t shake.

As she evaluated the selection in the
women’s department Finn nudged his way through a sales rack. “Hey,
Philly, this would look nice on you.”

She hated shopping for clothes. It was
always depressing. “I only need stockings.”

He held up the top. It was way too small,
she noticed right off the bat. Also, it was bright blue. “I don’t
wear blue.”

He frowned. “Why not? Blue’s a nice color.
It would match your eyes.”

Flustered that he knew the color of her
eyes, she turned and found the size stockings she needed.

“What size are you? I’m gonna buy it for
you. You wear black too much.”

“You aren’t buying that for me.”

“Why not? I want to.”

“No, Finnegan.”

“I’m getting it.”

She huffed and turned. “No. Now put it
back.” She continued walking to the register.

“Come on, if you don’t tell me what size
I’ll just guess—”

Mortified and highly annoyed, she pivoted
and snapped, “I said no! I’m not telling you my size, so drop
it!”

His expression fell and she felt horrible.
“Sorry. All right, I’ll put it back. I just wanted to do something
nice for you.”

He turned before she could apologize and she
cursed under her breath. “Finn.”

He held up his hand, but didn’t turn.
“Forget it.”

They walked back to the car in silence. She
berated herself for being a shrew the entire drive home. When he
pulled up at her apartment, he didn’t shut off the car and she was
sad the moment she realized he wasn’t coming inside.

Her hand went to the handle on the door and
she paused. “I’m really sorry for the way I spoke to you.”

His eyes narrowed, his lips set impatiently.
“Tell me this, was it because you didn’t want me to spend money on
you or because you didn’t want me to know your size?”

She lowered her head, embarrassed on so many
levels.

“That’s what I thought. Why do you make it
so hard to compliment you? I wanted to do something nice for you
Mallory and you—”

“It isn’t nice if it makes me feel bad.”

“It’s just a number,” he snapped. “Who cares
if it’s two or twenty?”

“I do! You don’t understand what it’s like
to hate yourself the way I do. It’s—”

“You’re right, I don’t! Because when I look
at you I see a fun girl who’s beautiful and smart and I can’t
understand how—when it comes to her self-image—she can be so
dumb.”

Her mouth fell open and she blinked as her
eyes suddenly started to sting. “I’ll add dumb to the list of my
faults.” Her fingers trembled as she wrenched open the door.

“Damn it, Mallory, don’t take what I said
out of context.”

“Thanks for taking me to the mall.” She
slammed the door.

Mallory’s first day of work was busy enough
that she barely thought about Finn. She told Samantha, during
lunch, what they’d fought about and Sam was very understanding.