Skin (McCullough Mountain 2) (4 page)

“Really? Then why are women never in the
mood?”

She snorted. “You’re with the wrong
woman.”

“Story of my life,” he muttered. “So you’re
saying when a woman says she isn’t in the mood, she really is?”

“No, but if you get her there and are just
the right amount of forceful…”

“That’s a fine line.”

“I guess. Tell me something about men.”

“We love boobs.”

“No shit. Tell me something I don’t
know.”

“We love how soft a woman’s skin is. What do
women like?”

“Hands and arms,” she answered quickly.

“Not butts and chests?”

“Well, that too, but not to the degree men
probably assume. Hands can be incredibly sexy. I love a strong,
calloused hand.”

He turned over his palms. “I thought women
wanted a soft touch.”

“Not me.”

“You’re a little wild thing, aren’t
you?”

“Wild, yes. Little no.”

“Don’t do that,” he said in all seriousness.
“You’re small. I tower over you.”

“Yes, but I outweigh you.” Her mouth was
like a runaway train and she couldn’t pull herself in when the
opportunity to put herself down presented itself. She hated that.
It was a total mood killer, but she always caught herself doing
it.

“It’s just a number.”

“Says the one hundred and ninety pound
man.”

“Stop. Tell me what else women like.”

“You know, I could be strung up for this.
I’m betraying my sisterhood by sharing this information.”

“Maybe you’re helping the sisterhood.”

True.
“If a woman keeps playing with
her hair it means she’s horny.”

“Women are always messing with their hair,”
he argued.

“No, not messing with, playing with.” She
twirled her hair as an example.

“All right, calm yourself.”

“Shut up,” she snapped, dropping her
hair.

He chuckled.

“Finn?” They both turned and Mallory tagged
her as the ‘girlfriend’ the moment she saw her. Blonde, perky
boobs, size negative two waist. This had to be the girlfriend.

Finnegan jumped off his stool and kissed her
cheek. “Hey, baby.” She shouldered him off and Mallory already
didn’t like the stink eye she was getting from the other woman.

“Who’s this?”

“This is Mallory Fenton. She’s from
Philadelphia. Just moved here.”

“Hi,” Mallory said, already missing the fun
they’d been having before the girl came into the room. The girl
nodded with a tight lipped—oh, so fake—smile.

“Philly, this is Erin.”

Awkwardness set in like a brick hurls
through a sheet of glass. Mallory sipped her beer and tried to look
away, but not before she noticed Erin pouting at Finnegan as she
asked him to order a drink. Finnegan turned and did her bidding. It
was hard not to curl her lip.
Where’d your balls go?

Once the girlfriend had a drink in hand,
some fruity concoction in a fancy glass, they sort of drifted away.
Mallory was left sitting alone and, worse, she was too drunk to
drive. A few guys piled into the seats beside her and acted like
she wasn’t there, repeatedly elbowing her and sloshing her beer as
they told stories. The bar got crowded and she ordered water as she
waited for sobriety to return.

Kelly talked to her for a few minutes in
between customers, but the busier the bar got the less chances he
had to check on her. Why did she drink so much? She wanted to go
home.

Talk to the guy to your left.

She scanned the bar. Everyone was in pairs,
trios, or groups. When her eyes landed on Finnegan and Erin she
looked away. They were having a heated conversation by the exit.
Why had she told him all those things? He’d likely be kissing
Erin’s magic spot within an hour. Ugh. She was pathetic.

The group of elbow nudgers left and she was
relieved. As she sipped her water she tried to calculate her
alcohol consumption in a made-up formula of time and beers per hour
to determine how much longer she had to wait to drive.

“Excuse me?”

She turned and found a handsome guy in his
early twenties.
Veal.
She looked over her shoulder and
realized he was talking to her. Okay, she could do this. “Hi.” She
gave him her most friendly smile.

“Is anyone using this stool?”

Her smile faltered. “No.”

“Thanks.” And just like that, he dragged the
stool away, and taking with it any hopes of someone else sitting
beside her, providing some much needed company.

Fuck it. She was going home. After tossing a
few dollars on the counter, she slid off her stool and left. No one
stopped her. No one even noticed she’d left. She should get in her
car and drive straight back to Philadelphia.

But she didn’t. She made it home safely,
stripped off her clothes, pulled on her favorite nightshirt, and
climbed into bed. Her fingers curled around the remote and she
found Nick at Nite. Maybe she should get a cat—or twenty.

August was hot and buggy. Sweat burned her
eyes as her soles slapped over the pavement. Her knees quaked with
exertion. Fourteen pounds. She was so close to crossing the
mini-goal of fifteen pounds by the end of summer. It was the only
thing that kept her working.

As she jogged, she ran her slick arm over
her brow and panted to the rhythm of Beyoncé. She could do this.
Her brain played over images of supermodels and smooth bellies. No
matter how hard she worked, she’d never wear a bikini. Her skin was
scarred from carrying around too much weight and no diet could
un-tattoo that road map. She hated stretch marks.

But this wasn’t about being skinny. It was
about being healthy. She had to keep telling herself that, because,
while her scale proclaimed she was fourteen pounds lighter, her
mirror informed her otherwise.

The marker on the park path came into view.
Four miles. She should do five, but her heart wasn’t in it today.
As she approached the little mile marker her steps lagged and she
strolled across the finish. Her shaking fingers uncapped her water
bottle and she guzzled the lukewarm liquid.

A petite woman walking her dog and smiled.
It took every thing Mallory had not to sneer at the skinny thing.
God, when had she gotten so bitter? She unlocked her car and
chucked the empty water bottle in the back. After rolling down the
windows she blasted the air.

One week until she started her new job. Good
thing, because she was going stir crazy. It had been weeks since
she’d gone out. After the night she was ditched by Finnegan, she
lost the urge to be social.

Don’t blame him. He’s not responsible for
you.

When she returned home, she took a shower
and bagged up her laundry to take to the Laundromat. Another
exciting Saturday.

She didn’t bother with makeup or a blow
dryer. After lugging her bag down the steps, she carried it across
the street to the Laundromat. Once the clothes were loaded and
spinning away, she busted out a novel, and settled in to the
awkward plastic chair for a long wait.

She was turning to chapter three when there
was a knock on the glass. Startled, she glanced up and found
Finnegan—or his twin.

“Philly!” The glass muffled his shout.

It was Finnegan. She stuffed the romance
into her bag and waited as he entered the Laundromat. The bell
chimed and he fell into the seat to her left. “What are you doing
here?” he asked.

“Having my taxes done,” she said, giving him
a sarcastic look.

He laughed. “You snuck out the other
night.”

“Um, no…I sat at the bar alone for two hours
and then went home.”

“There were a bunch of guys around you. I
thought you were inviting them to your magic spot.”

Her brow lifted. “No. They were just next to
me. I didn’t talk to them.”

“Oh, well you should have come sat with
us.”

With him and Erin…no thank you. “I was
tired.”

“So what else is new? School starts soon.
You nervous about your new job? I talked to Colin about you. He
said he thinks you’re gonna be great.”

What was he, on speed? Wait, he talked to
Colin? About her? It shouldn’t have made her feel special, but it
did. “I start next week.”

He nodded. “Hey, you look like you lost some
weight. Still running?”

Earth, swallow me now.
“Thanks. I
have a ways to go.”

“Women,” he muttered. “We’re heading to
O’Malley’s tonight. Interested in joining us?”

“Who’s us?”

“Me, my brothers, my little sister…Kelly
will be there. My one brother’s leaving for school tomorrow, so
we’re sort of sending him off.”

“How many siblings do you have?”

“Six.”

“Holy crap.”

“Don’t you have any brothers or
sisters?”

“I have a sister.”

“Older or younger?”

“Older. She’s an attorney. Lives in
Maryland. We don’t talk much.”

“That sucks.”

“So, out of six, where do you fall in the
line up?” she asked.

“Well, Sheilagh’s the youngest, then Kelly,
then Braydon, then me and Luke, then Colin, and Katherine’s the
oldest.”

“Do you all live on the same property?”

“Sort of. There’s the big house and then my
aunt’s house. We pretty much own the whole mountain. But it isn’t
like we’re all crammed under one roof. Luke has his own place.
Braydon’s at school. It’s just me, Kelly, and Sheilagh in the house
right now. And she was supposed to start school this fall, but…I’m
not sure what happened there.”

“How old are you?

“Twenty-eight.”

She rolled her eyes. “Great. I’m older than
you.”

He frowned as though he didn’t believe her.
“How old are you?”

“Let’s just say every number I have is
bigger than yours.”

He nudged her with his shoulder. “You’re
grumpy today.”

She stilled. She wasn’t grumpy. Well, maybe
a little. She was hungry and tired, but…he didn’t know her well
enough to comment on her moods. “I’m not grumpy.”

“So you’ll come out with us tonight?”

She shook her head. “Did you have some pixie
sticks earlier or something? You’re hyper as hell.”

“It’s a beautiful day. I’m just being
chipper.”

Maybe she was grumpy. “It’s disgustingly hot
out.”

“Try working in it.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a logger.” Holy shit, he was a real
lumberjack. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

She shook her head. “No reason. So, you and
Erin…”

“What about us?”

“Have you two been together long?”

“Yes and no. We’ve been on and off again for
a few years. Half my family thinks I should just break up with her
and call it quits.”

“So why don’t you?”

He shrugged. “Habit. We’ve always just sort
of been Finn and Erin. I’ll probably marry her.”

He eyes widened. “You’re family doesn’t
really like her and you are with her out of habit, but you’ll
‘probably marry her’
?”

“My family doesn’t
dislike
her. At
this point they’re indifferent. And I want kids. She’s a good girl,
comes from an Irish family like mine…why not.”

“Do you love her?”

“Sure.”

Mallory didn’t know what to say. He was so
casual about it. Where she came from marriage was a big deal. Maybe
it was different in small towns.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

She laughed. “No.”

“Why is it funny? You’re pretty enough.”

She didn’t know how to take that.
Pretty
enough.
Pretty enough for what? To have sex with? To not throw
garbage at? He didn’t necessarily call her pretty. Why the
enough
? Why not just
you’re pretty.
“Thanks,” she
said dryly.

“What? I meant it as a compliment. You’re
funny, fun to hang around with, easy to make laugh.”

“Ahh…all the qualities of a fat girl.”

He scowled. “Don’t call yourself that.
You’re not fat.”

“I’m not arguing with you about this
again.”

“Then don’t insult yourself in front of me.”
His tone was sharp and she realized he wasn’t playing around
anymore.

“All right. Relax.”

“You do that a lot, put yourself down. I
think what you need is to stop obsessing over your looks.”

At that, she took offense. “I do not obsess
over my looks.”

“How many miles did you run today?”

“Four. So what?”

He looked at his watch. “It’s four o’clock.
What have you eaten?”

“What do you care?”

“Just answer the question.”

She sighed. “I had eggs for breakfast and a
salad for lunch.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s a normal amount of food.”

“What if I held out a cheeseburger right
now? Would you take it? I bet you would. I bet you’d even lick the
grease off my fingers.”

She bristled. “You’re an asshole.”

“What? I’m playing around.”

All she could picture was her going at his
hand, cheeseburger in fist, like Cujo. She stood. “I have to switch
my laundry.”

The door to the washer swung open with too
much force. Her hands plopped the clothes into the hollow basin of
the dryer. She slapped the wet clothes down.

“Hey, Philly, what gives?”

She ignored him and continued to scoop up
and transfer her clothes. He caught her wrist, mid-toss. “Hey,
don’t ignore me. You’re mad.”

Her molars locked. “You make me sound like a
heifer.”

He made a sound in his throat and drew back.
“No. You picture yourself that way. All I was trying to do was get
you to go grab a burger with me. You totally mistook my
meaning.”

She stilled. “You were going to ask me out
to eat?”

“Yeah, but I’m not down with rabbit food, so
only if I could convince you to have some red meat.”

She sucked in a slow breath and mentally
called herself a million names. Not one of them nice. “Sorry. I
thought…”

“I know what you thought. Look, I like you.
I’d like to be friends. Try not to be so defensive. I’m not a mean
guy.”