Skin (McCullough Mountain 2) (14 page)

“Mallory?”

Her head snapped up. Finn?
Shh. Don’t say
anything. Make him think you left.

He tapped on the stall door. “Hey, Mallory,
you in there?” She remained silent. There was no way she was
letting him catch her crying in some bathroom after what just
happened. “I can see your feet.”

Fuck.

“This is the ladies’ room,” she hissed.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Are you? You’re the one who
decided to go Old West and punch the guy.”

“He deserved it.” They were both silent for
a moment. “He’s gone now.”

Great. Nothing like making the walk of
shame back to her table after being the cause of a spectacle.
“Okay.”

The door jiggled and her spine stiffened.
“Open the door.”

“Finnegan! I’m in the bathroom.”

“Are you peeing?”

Her face scrunched as she stared at the
chipped paint on the stall in total shock. “No!”

A few seconds passed. Quietly, he asked,
“Pooping?”

“Oh my God!
Get. Out!”

He didn’t sound bothered. “Will you come
back to the table? I was having fun dancing with you.”

Yeah, there’d be no more dancing for this
girl for a while. “I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

“All right.”

The door opened and closed. Sighing, she
stood and pressed her foot into the flusher even though she hadn’t
used the toilet, she’d accumulated a glob of tear and makeup
stained tissue. She unlatched the stall and gasped. Finn stood on
the inside of the door waiting for her.

“You
were
crying.”

She turned her face and quickly washed her
hands. “No, I wasn’t.”

When she reached for a towel he was behind
her, watching her in the mirror. His expression was a mixture of
concern and regret.
Yeah, get used to it, Finnegan McCullough.
That’s what happens when you hang out with someone like me.

“Why are you still here?” she snapped. Dear
God, what if she actually
had
been using the bathroom.

He stepped closer and her breath stuttered
in her lungs. “Nothing that guy said was true,” he whispered.

Uh, yeah, it was.
“He’s a jerk. I’m
used to it. I couldn’t give two shits about what people like him
think or say.”

His brow lowered and he studied her as if
weighing the sincerity of her words. “You’re beautiful, Mallory.
Don’t let anyone tell you differently.”

The same tightening she always got in her
chest when a friend lied to her clamped down on her heart. “Thanks.
Let’s go back out there.”

He caught her arm and she stilled. Her focus
latched on those large fingers wrapped around her skin. Her gaze
darted to his eyes. He shook his head and drew her back to the
sinks. His hands caught her shoulders as he turned her toward the
mirror. “Look at yourself. See what everyone else sees.”

She scowled at her reflection, hating it.
She
did
see what everyone else saw. That was the problem.
Every time she caught her reflection in a store window or in a
picture she hadn’t known was taken, she broke a little bit
more.

There was no missing the way her face was
too round and her breasts were too big for any proper-fitting bra.
Her stomach wasn’t flat and her shirts didn’t always hide the
unsightly bulges. The only thing that made her happy with that
mirror was the fact that it wasn’t full length.

“I see it, Finnegan. Now let’s go.” She
moved to turn and his grip tightened.

“No.”

“Finnegan—”

“Really look, Mallory. Look at your eyes.
They’re the prettiest blue I’ve ever seen. And your lips are full
and always the perfect shade of pink. You’re hair is thick and
always smells like flowers. Your skin is softer than silk. Yes,
you’re curvy, but who ever said that was a bad thing?”

“I’m not curvy. I’m fat.”

“Stop calling yourself that!”

“It’s what I am!”

“Why?” He jerked her shoulders. “Because
some doctor showed you a chart? It’s an ugly fucking word and I’m
sick of hearing you use it to describe yourself. So what if you
have some weight you want to lose? We all want to improve ourselves
in some way.”

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t the one insulting
myself tonight. It was that guy out there. There’s always someone
judging me, seeing the things you clearly don’t.”

“I see them, Mallory. I just…I don’t see
them as flaws. This is who you are.”

No! It’s not!
In her dreams, she was
always skinny. This was not how she imagined herself. It was like
she was trapped in a body she hated. She desperately wanted to shed
the mask. She was light and airy and easygoing. The outside package
matched nothing on her inside.

“This may be who I am, but I won’t be like
this for long.”

His eyes closed for a brief moment. “Did you
ever think that maybe you’re just built this way? I’m not saying
you should give up on all your exercise, but what if you change
your BMI and shed a few pounds? You aren’t built like a little boy.
Why is that a bad thing?”

She’d long ago gotten bikinis and
short-shorts out of her head. Her expectations were realistic. She
was aiming for one-seventy, not one-seventeen. Chances were, she’d
always be of the rounded variety. “It doesn’t matter. It makes no
difference what you see, or I see, or what all the assholes out
there see. I’m sick of being me and I’m done talking about
this.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re you.”

She narrowed her eyes. How could he be glad
about something that made her so miserable? “Thanks,” she said,
none too nice.

He released her shoulders and stepped back.
“Do you want to go somewhere else?”

She wanted to go home and hit the reset
button on the day. “I think I’m ready to call it a night.”

He nodded. She followed him back to the
table and they squared up the bill after she threatened him when he
wouldn’t take her money. She left it on the table. It was either
going to him or the waitress.

They drove home in silence. When he parked
she just sat there, too tired to move. “Did you get hurt?” she
asked, thinking she should have asked that an hour ago. It wasn’t
often—or ever—someone punched someone in her defense.

“No. He’s seen better days, though.”

She laughed without much humor. “There’ll be
others. You can’t go around punching people every time someone
insults me.”

“Why not?”

“Um, because you’ll go to jail.”

“It’d be worth it.”

“Finn—”

He shifted so he fully faced her. “Don’t.
I’m done with listening to you put yourself down and acting like
you deserve less respect than everyone else. Done, Mallory. Do you
understand? Done.”

She swallowed. “Yes. Sorry.” She faced the
dark windshield. “Did you want to come in and watch some TV or
something?”

“No.”

His clipped reply cut her to the quick.
“Okay.” Her hand went to the door.

“I don’t want to come in because I don’t
want to watch TV with you.”

Her shoulders hunched as she tried to curl
into herself, curl away from his rejection. Her fingers tightened
on the latch as she breathed out some form of a reply and
nodded.

“I want to kiss you and touch you, but you
don’t want that, and I’m not sure I can keep acting like I feel the
same.”

Her entire body froze. What did he just say?
Ally’s words played in her head and she battled to find some form
of truth or motive.

“I like you, Mallory. I know you don’t feel
the same, but you’re my friend and I can’t lie to you. When we were
dancing tonight all I wanted to do was kiss that smile off your
face. It’s getting difficult to stand upright when I’m around
you.”

She choked on her objection. “What?”

“I get that you just want to be friends, but
I just thought you should know…it’s how I feel.”

Her neck twisted until she was facing him.
There was no sarcasm in his expression. “If this is some method of
getting over Erin—”

“It has nothing to do with Erin and
everything to do with you.”

“You’re just horny.”

He scowled at her. “Don’t do that. Don’t
tell me what I’m feeling. I’ve been feeling this way for weeks and
when I realized you didn’t feel the same I tried to excuse it as
something else. Trust me. It’s not. It’s you.”

“Wh—why?”

He shrugged. “I just…want you.”

He wants you. No one has ever said those
words.
Her breath came out in a slow, jagged release. “Finn,
I…You see someone I don’t know. The real me isn’t that. We’re
friends. I couldn’t bear losing our friendship because we let our
feelings cloud our better judgment.”

His gaze snapped to hers. “
Our
feelings?”

“Yours, mine, whatever. I’m just
saying—”

“Are you attracted to me?” he
interrupted.

She stuttered. “I…you’re obviously
handsome.” The side of his mouth slowly curved, producing the
cutest dimple she’d ever seen. “But that doesn’t change the fact
that we’re better off as friends.”

He picked up her hand and when she tried to
pull it back to her lap his fingers tightened. Whatever she’d been
about to say fled her mind as he scooted closer and tucked her hair
behind her ear. “I want to kiss you, Mallory, and I’m going to. You
give me one minute and then I’ll decide if I believe your line of
bullshit about us being better off as friends.”

“Finn—”

“Shh…” His mouth lowered toward hers and she
stiffened. Gentle pulls of lips slowly had her body softening, but
her conscience always crept back in to remind her that enjoying his
touch was a mistake. She kept her mouth closed and her eyes
open.

His head tilted and his hand gently landed
over her eyes. “Clock doesn’t start until you kiss me back,
Philly,” he whispered against her lips.

She made a soft sound of protest and shut
her eyes against the weight of his palm then tilted her head. His
hand slipped beneath her ear and around the back of her neck,
drawing her in. His scent was all over her as he shifted
closer.

When his tongue gently traced over the seam
of her lips, she whimpered.

“Let me in,” he rasped and she opened.

His mouth sealed over hers, opening and
closing softly. She’d been kissed before and done a number of other
things, but never could she recall ever being kissed like this.
This was no prelude to fucking. This was an event in and of
itself.

Finn’s hand sifted through her hair and
goose bumps chased down her arms. Warm, buttery sensations unfurled
in her belly and she sighed. His tongue teased and tangled with
hers and the next thing she knew she was practically reclining
against the truck door. The handle dug into her back, but it didn’t
matter. Nothing mattered as long as he continued to kiss her that
way.

“Jesus, Philly,” he cursed and the kiss
intensified. His weight pressed deliciously into her front as he
leaned over her. Her fingers flexed over his broad shoulders and
then his mouth left hers to kiss a trail of delicate smooches down
her throat.

Could someone come from kissing? No, but she
felt like she was about to. When he finally eased back, his cheeks
were flushed under the foggy shadows of moonlight pouring through
the glass. He licked his lips as though savoring her taste. She
remained slumped over in her seat, speechless.

“You were saying?” he asked, a cocky grin on
his face.

She blinked stupidly at him. “I…I don’t
think you know what you’re asking for.”

He grabbed her hand and pressed it to the
denim bulge at his crotch. She gasped and he said in a husky voice,
“Oh, I know exactly what I’m asking for.”

She snatched back her fingers as if he’d
burned her and cradled them in her other hand. Sex. He wanted sex.
Before she could voice her objections, he said, “It’s not about
fucking, Philly. That’s just the pot of gold at the end of the
rainbow. I’m content with simply enjoying the ride. I can wait, so
long as you know where I stand.”

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

“Want me to kiss you again so you can find
out?”

“No.”

He laughed. “All right, but tomorrow I plan
on doing that again. A little longer, a little slower, and soon
you’re gonna stop acting like we’re just friends and own up to the
chemistry we share.”

Jesus Christ, no one had ever come onto her
so blatantly. This couldn’t be all an act. She had nothing to say.
What could she say?

“Now, go ahead in, before I kiss you some
more.”

She quickly sat up and the door flung open.
She scurried out of the truck in record time and slammed the door.
His finger pressed into the foggy glass and squeaked as the
calloused tip of his thumb wrote XO.

Danger whistles and warning bells clamored
in her head. He was going to kiss her again, longer and slower. And
then he’d probably get her clothes off, mostly because she wanted
to get him out of his. And then, in short order, he’d rip out her
heart and she’d never be the same again.

Finn climbed the steps to Mallory’s
apartment and shifted the sack of food he carried in order to
knock. He grinned when he heard her stumbling around. The door
opened and she frowned up at him, her hair a rat’s nest of wild
waves and her eyes still puffy from sleep.

“What time is it?”

He glanced at his watch. “Eight-fifteen. I
brought you breakfast.”

She glanced at the bag as if it were a dead
raccoon and stepped back. “Come in. I have to pee.”

It amused him how she was so frank about
such things. He dropped the bag on the table and began unloading
containers. The toilet flushed and he heard her brushing her teeth.
When she came back out, her hair was tied back in a lopsided knot.
That, paired with her tiger print pajama pants, was probably the
cutest vision he’d ever seen.