Skin (McCullough Mountain 2) (2 page)

Ground scraped under her rubber shoes as she
stepped closer. “My car's at the bottom of the trail.” She was
sweaty. Her skin glistened under the remaining sun.

He nodded, a bit distracted by her soft
form. The fabric of her cotton top was darker where perspiration
had run between her breasts. Golden beams of sunlight threw shadows
over them and the temperature began to drop, the same way it did
every night in these parts. Her nipples pressed through her
clothing. She was packed into that sports bra under her
clothes.

She cleared her throat and his gaze jerked
back to her face. “Sorry,” he muttered and quickly turned to grab
the jack.

She didn’t say much as he fixed the tire.
The rim fell like a ton of bricks into his flatbed and he stood,
wiping the grease off his fingers onto an old rag. His gaze
inspected her. She was average height for a girl, sort of plump and
curvy, and she definitely didn’t look like a runner. “You’re not
from around here, are you?”

“I just moved here. I’m from Philly.” She
kept staring at him.

“My brother goes to school there. Villanova.
You know it?”

She smiled and nodded. Her teeth were a
straight line of pearls. “Yeah—”

His hand went to his hip as his phone
started chirping. He held up a finger telling her to hold that
thought and brought it to his ear.

“Hey.”

“Fin, where are you? I’ve been sitting here
for an hour.”

He glanced at his watch. “Sorry, babe. I had
to work over and then I got a flat.”

“
Another
flat?” Erin asked, and he
grit his teeth at the suspicious tone in her voice.

“Yeah.”

His girlfriend sighed. “Well, when are you
coming to pick me up?”

He glanced at the girl. What was her name?
Melissa? Maloney? Mallory? Yeah, Mallory. “I gotta take care of
some shit and then I’ll be there. Give me an hour.”

She huffed into the phone. “Why don’t I just
meet you there?” She said this in a tone that spoke nothing of
favors and understanding. He wasn’t being baited.

“That’d be great. I’ll see you when I get
there.” His thumb rolled over the end call button and he stuffed it
back in his pocket. He turned to Mallory and noticed her expression
changed as she looked at the ground.

It was getting dark. “You ready?” he
asked.

She nodded and silently went around to the
passenger side of the truck. The door whined as she pried it open.
Gonna have to get some WD40 on that.

* * * *

Mallory sank into the broken-in, leather,
bench seat. She was such an idiot. Her doctor had given her a world
of crap at her last physical because of her weight. He basically
freaked her out, warning that if she didn’t get her act together
she was going to run into a shit storm of health issues because her
family’s medical history was a hodgepodge of diabetes and
autoimmune diseases. He successfully freaked her out and she’d—like
everything else she did—barreled head first into a plan. Like
always, she’d wound up embarrassing herself. Now she was lost,
getting a ride home from some mountain man who was like a wet dream
in flannel.

She sighed. Of course the first time she ran
into—literally—a hot guy in Center County, she’d nearly plowed him
down like a bull in a china shop. And, of course, she was a fat,
sweaty, panting mess when he saw her. And,
of course,
he had
a girlfriend, so why the hell did she care? Yeah, that all sounded
about right.

She clicked her seatbelt, stretching it as
far as it could go. She was all too aware of how the strap hugged
and accentuated her ugly parts.

The truck roared to life. Closed in the
roomy cab with him she could smell his skin. What was that? It
wasn’t like the cologne guys wore at home. This was a piney smell,
sweet like sap with some briny, manly edge to it.

“We’ll have to take it slow so I don’t lose
the donut too.”

His voice was gravelly and distracting.
Almost as distracting as the mention of donut.
Mmm…Boston
cream—stop! You don’t eat that crap anymore. Think of carrots.
Delicious, raw, slices of—
oh, fuck it. She wanted a donut.

As they drove over the bumpy pass of road,
she eyed him slyly. He was tall. His long, muscled arms handled the
steering wheel with evident strength. He was owning that flannel
shirt too. Guys didn’t dress like that at home. This wasn’t the
Kurt Cobain type flannel. No, this flannel was his bitch. It was
soft and faded, and stretched over his broad shoulders like a
second skin. She frowned as she realized she was jealous of a
shirt.

Averting her gaze, she stared out the
window. Behind the soft reflection of trees going by in the dark
she caught her reflection. Dear God, she looked hideous.

Her hand smoothed her ponytail and she
winced as her fingers touched the damp, sweaty mop. Yeah, this is
why she went to the park and not the gym or the high school.
Nothing like working out next to Redneck Barbie to make her feel
more like a slob.

Was his girlfriend the Barbie type? She
glanced at him again out of her peripheral vision. Yeah,
probably.

Her shoulders slumped into the seat. She
just wanted to get back to her car and get home. Mallory sighed as
she considered the steamed broccoli that waited for her there. God,
she wanted a Philly cheesesteak.

“Do you run a lot?”

His question caught her off guard. “Um, I’m
trying to. I need to lose some weight.” She winced.
Smooth,
Mallory. Draw his attention to your flaws. Like he didn’t already
notice.
She recalled his comment about being nearly ‘bulldozed’
by her. Nothing like having a hot guy compare her to twenty-ton
truck.

“Girls worry too much about their
weight.”

“According to my doctor, I don’t worry
enough.” Why was she telling him this?
Shut up!

He glanced at her then back at the road.
Thankfully, he made no further comment on the issue. He probably
agreed. “What made you move to Center County?”

A chance at a new beginning.
“Work.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a secretary. I’ll be working at the
high school in the fall.”

“Oh, yeah? My sister-in-law teaches there.
My brother, Colin, is really involved with the afterschool programs
too.”

“Colin McCullough?” He’d been on the panel
of people to interview her.

“Yeah, that’s him. You know him?”

“He interviewed me.”

“No shit. Small world. You should like it
there. They just redid the gym. If you wanted, I could talk to
Colin about letting you use it.”

Not this again. “That’s okay. I’d rather
stick to the park.”

He nodded like he understood her reasoning
when she knew he didn’t. “Just make sure you mind the markers.
Sometimes people sneak on our land to hunt. You don’t want to get
inadvertently shot.”

No, that certainly wasn’t on the agenda. She
nodded.

“How often do you run?”

Not enough.
“Every day.”

His brows lifted. He was probably
calculating her weight and calling her a liar. Well, she was
trying. She’d only just started this new ‘lifestyle’. Like calling
it that instead of a diet made it better.

“I don’t run unless something’s chasing me,”
he said, and she laughed.

“I hate it.” The confession slipped out
before she could pull it back.

“Then why do it?”

“Because I don’t want to be fat or die from
some illness that stems from obesity.”

He scowled at her then turned back to the
wheel. “You
are not
obese.”

“Uh, yeah, I am. Morbidly, actually.”

“How much do you weigh?”

She balked. “You did not just ask me
that!”

“Sure I did. How much? I bet you can’t be
more than one-seventy.”

Well wasn’t he sweet. She hadn’t seen
numbers that low in years. “You’re way off.”

“Girls overdramatize things. How much?
One-eighty?”

“Stop asking.”

“Why won’t you tell me? It’s just a
number.”

“You’re not supposed to ask girls how much
they weigh.”

“Why? I’d tell someone if they asked
me.”

“Yeah, look at you. If I were built like
you, I’d probably run around naked.” Holy shit, did she really just
say that?

He laughed. “That’s always an option.”

She stared at her lap. What was wrong with
her?
So many things…

“Come on, give me a number.”

“No.”

“Please.”

“No!”

“Pretty please…”

“Why do you care so much?”

He shrugged. “You piqued my interests. I’m
of the inquisitive sort.”

She sighed and rested her elbow on the door,
ignoring him.

“I weigh one ninety.”

It was all muscle. She shot him a look
telling him to drop it. Finally, when they pulled into the park, he
relented. “Is that your car?”

“That’s me.”

The truck slid beside her tiny Chevy and he
put it in park. She busied herself by wrapping the strings of her
ear buds around her iPod.

“Well, thanks for the lift.”

He turned and nodded. God, he was sexy. His
eyes were incredibly blue against his tanned skin. His jaw was
strong and dusted with brown shadow from his stubble. He should be
doing Bounty commercials.

When she realized she was just sitting there
staring and he had better things to do, she grabbed the door handle
and yanked it open. It made a loud cranking sound. She jumped out
of the truck and her knees nearly gave out. She overdid it today.
“Well…thanks again.”

“Nice meeting you, Mallory Fenton.”

“You too.” She shut the door and went to her
car. He waited until the engine purred to life before pulling
out.

Her head fell to the steering wheel. “You’re
such an idiot,” she mumbled. She glanced back and saw the tail
lights of his truck disappear. It was dark and scary in the park at
night. Throwing her car in reverse, she quickly made her way home.
It wasn’t until she got to bed that night that she realized she
hadn’t even asked his name.

How hard was it to label vegetables? Mallory
examined what could be squash or could be cucumber, and glanced
around to make sure no one saw her sniff it. She stilled,
mid-sniff, when she saw him, her mountain man, talking to another
hunk of yummy man flesh and laughing down by the rolls in the
bakery section. Where were they hiding these hot guys? Did they
have a reservation on the mountain or something?

It had been two weeks since she’d last seen
him. Two weeks and four measly pounds. Today she was actually
dressed nice in capri jeans and a black T-shirt. Black was her
signature color. It hid her lumpy parts best. Should she say
hi?

Lowering the cucumber into her cart, she
slowly strolled in his direction. Maybe they could be friends. It
wasn’t like she was winning any popularity contests in her new
neighborhood. Most days, she watched television in her apartment
until the reality shows pissed her off. Then she either went to bed
with a book or Nick at Nite. How sad was she?

She approached the rolls and was accosted by
the delicious scent of carbs. There was something wrong with a
person who could smell bread through plastic wrappers.

Her mountain man and the other guy were
arguing over bagels. She cleared her throat and they both
turned.

“Hi.” When he gave her a blank stare, she
nervously looked to his friend. Glancing back at him, she said,
“Remember me? Mallory.”

“Uh…” He looked to his friend then back to
her. “Sorry?”

“We met in the woods. You gave me a ride
back to my car…” Could he have really forgotten her? Mortification
crawled up her spine and she fought the urge to turn and go hide in
the juice aisle.

Of course he wouldn’t remember her. Why
would he? It wasn’t like he found her attractive. He was rushing
off to see his
girlfriend
. She was just an inconvenience, a
tiny blip on a hot guy’s radar.

“You must have me confused—”

“My mistake,” she cut off his excuse. “I
thought you were someone else.” Her cart squealed as she pivoted
out of the bread section and bolted in the other direction.

Idiot!

She didn’t stop until she made it to the
dairy aisle. What was wrong with her? She probably looked like a
complete moron with her big, puppy dog eyes.
Pity me…I have no
friends.
Jesus, he was probably embarrassed to have her come up
to him in front of his hot friend.

She tossed some Greek yogurt and fat-free
milk in her cart as she blinked back tears. No matter how much she
could be the funny girl, nothing would ever remove the sad, fat
girl inside. The one who always questioned how others saw her and
knew boys never noticed her the way they noticed little twiggy
bitches. That was mean and she knew it was her jealous conscience
talking. She had plenty of lovely, skinny friends with great
personalities. They were just at home—in the city—and she missed
them.

She was cranky and emotional because she was
fucking hungry! Sniffling, she checked out a carton of eggs and
placed it on top of her items.

He acted like he didn’t know you. Either
that or he forgot about you.
Both scenarios sucked. She needed
to go out and make some friends. The loneliness was getting to her.
But at thirty, that was a little hard to do. No one wanted to sit
in a bar alone waiting for a stranger to talk to them. If she did
that, she’d probably sit there all night watching people go by.

At home she wasn’t a wallflower. She had a
great group of friends who didn’t understand why she’d take a job
in the middle of bumblefuck Pennsylvania when she could be a
secretary anywhere. She wanted to run away and find a new life.
Last year’s calendar had been bombarded with baby showers,
anniversary parties, kids’ first birthdays, and weddings. On the
days her friends weren’t celebrating their awesome lives, she’d sit
at home, forgotten. It sucked being the last man standing.