Skin (McCullough Mountain 2) (9 page)

He was silent for a while. Over the years it
had always been Erin. She’d become a fixture in his life he sort of
depended on to always be there. In the beginning he’d wanted to do
things one on one with her, but over time that urge sort of fell
away. They barely even had sex anymore and when they did it was
nothing to write home about.

“Did you ever do something habitually even
though you knew it was bad for you each time you did it? You get so
used to doing it you don’t even really enjoy it anymore, but you
can’t stop for some reason.”

She snorted and sat up. “Hello? I eat.”

“That’s not the same—”

“Of course it is. I don’t even really like
donuts, but if you put one in front of me it has about a thirty
second life expectancy.”

He frowned. “Then why eat it?”

She shrugged. “Because I know I shouldn’t
and knowing that tells me I may never have one again so I better
take it before the offer’s off the table.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“I know. Neither does dating someone you
don’t enjoy when you can do a hell of a lot better.”

He shifted. His ass was going numb. “Do you
think you’re going to puke anymore?”

“No. But hey, I gave back my pizza so that
means we can eat the rest of it.”

He frowned. “That’s not funny, Philly. I
better not find you messing around with that shit. Bulimia can kill
a person. You’re smarter than that. ”

She drew back and scowled at him. “I don’t
make myself vomit, Finnegan. I’m not thirteen anymore.”

Her answer should have reassured him, but it
didn’t. It only told him that once she’d been desperate enough to
try something as dumb as purging.

He stood and held out a hand. “Come on,
let’s get you to bed.”

“I’ll be there in a minute. I gotta brush my
teeth and pee.”

He stepped out and shut the door. As he
waited he looked at the pictures scattered throughout her
apartment. There was one with three other people he assumed were
her family. Her sister looked nothing like her. She was tall and
all sharp edges, while Mallory was small and soft. She had a smile
that was contagious.

The toilet flushed and the sink turned on.
He replaced the picture and turned as the door opened.

“You are so lucky we’re just friends. I look
like death.”

He smiled. She didn’t look like death. She
looked cute. Her hair was twisted up in one of those sexy, sloppy
knot styles girls did and her face was scrubbed clean of all traces
of makeup. She smelled like floral soap and mint.

“I’m going to change into pajamas. I’m not
really tired anymore. You want to finish our movie?”

“Sure.”

She was still intoxicated, he noted, when
she tripped over the lip of the rug and cursed and giggled. He had
nothing better to do, so he settled onto the couch and set up the
movie where they’d left off.

She returned from the bedroom wearing cotton
pants with candy canes on them and a sweatshirt that was way too
big for her. In her arms she held a fluffy blanket and two
pillows.

“Here,” she said tossing him a pillow.

He wedged the pillow under his shoulder and
waited as she fluffed the blanket and maneuvered around. She seemed
to be having a hard time of it. “You all right over there?”

“I…I can’t…I can’t get the damn blanket to
open.”

He laughed and gave the corner a tug.

She plopped down and let out a breath.
“Thank you. The stupid thing was fighting me.”

He eyed the blanket. “It
was
being
quite ferocious.”

She gave him the finger and he started the
movie. He knew this was where they’d left off, but he had no idea
what was going on. The woman on the screen screamed as some guy ran
through the house with a rifle. Was he the killer? No, wait, that
was the husband.

This movie sucks.

Mallory’s feet brushed his knee.
“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Stretch out. I don’t mind.
Here.” He rested a throw pillow over his lap and pulled her feet on
top.

She sighed and shut her eyes. The people on
the screen carried on. It seemed like the climactic moment of the
movie when all hell breaks loose, but he found her little pudgy
toes more interesting. They were painted bright pink and had
daisies drawn on them. Who could paint a flower that small?

“You know what would make this perfect?” she
asked and he jerked his gaze away from her feet, a guilty flush
heating the back of his neck.

He cleared his throat. “What?”

“Ice cream.”

“You
are
drunk.”

She laughed. “Yeah, but ice cream would be
damn good right now, drunk or not.”

“Do you have any?”

She snorted. “No.”

“Want me to get you some bug-gurt?”

She made a gagging face. “That is so not the
same thing and you know it.”

He laughed. “What happened to Little Miss
Superior?” He mimicked her city twang, “
Tastes fine to
me.”

She scrunched up her face and stuck out her
tongue. He pinched her toe and she yelped, drawing her feet back.
They turned their attention to the television. He was sure she was
about as interested in the movie as him.

Each time he peeked at her, the lashes of
her eyes hung a little lower until finally they remained closed. He
rested his head on the back of her couch and shut his own eyes, not
bothering to open them again until morning.

Mallory stretched and grunted. She couldn’t
move. And she was burning up. What the hell? She opened her eyes
and made a sound of panic. Someone was on top of her!

Squirming and scrambling upright, the man
grunted and mumbled into the couch, “Chill, Philly, before you kick
me in the nuts.”

She stilled. “Finnegan?”

“What?” came his muffled reply.

“What are you still doing here?”

“I passed out after the movie. You hog the
covers.”

Oh my God, he spent the whole night. You
slept the
whole
night next to a guy and were too drunk to
even enjoy it!

Her mind chased over memories from the night
before. The trip from the bar to her place was all a blur. Then she
remembered talking in the bathroom for a long time. Why were they
in the bathroom? Oh, God…she’d puked.

She groaned. “I guess I was the asshole last
night.”

He sat up. Finn was a cute guy no matter
what, but in the morning he was scruffy and encroaching on a whole
new level of yummy. She had to look away.

“No, you were fine.”

She groaned and covered her face. “I can’t
believe how drunk I was.”

“A group of rowdy McCulloughs and unlimited
whiskey has that effect. Are you hung over?”

She took inventory of her body. “No.”

“See, that’s because you threw up. So stop
worrying about it.”

She stood and went to the bathroom. After
brushing her teeth and washing her face, she headed into the
kitchen. Finn was sprawled out on the couch under her
comforter.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, watching her
start the coffee. It was strange having an audience.

“I was going to make an egg white omelet
with spinach and tomato. Did you want one?”

“Is there cheese on it?”

“I don’t have cheese.”

“You’re killing me, Philly. How about you
come with me to get the cars? We can get yours and then you can
drive my truck back to the house while I drive Sheilagh’s SUV. My
mom always makes a big breakfast on Sundays. You come eat there
with me and I’ll run with you on the field I told you about.”

She arched an eyebrow. “You’ll run with
me?”

“Sure.”

“I thought you didn’t run unless something’s
chasing you.”

“So you’ll have to chase me.”

There was something very tempting about
running behind Finn, his back all sweaty, shirt clinging to his
broad shoulders, strong legs pumping…“Okay.”

“Really? There might be carbs there.”

“It’s fine. I’ll eat a banana on the way so
I can be selective.”

They drove to the bar and retrieved her car.
She left it at her apartment and then went back to the bar for
Finn’s truck. It was tricky driving so far off the ground, but she
did fine. Once they turned onto the road leading up the mountain,
she noticed the signs declaring it private property that she’d
missed before.

Mallory followed the SUV up a long, windy
road and the pavement gave way to packed clay thoroughfares. The
property was mostly woods, but she caught glimpses of a few
lakes.

She turned down a narrow drive after Finn.
The shoulders of the road were dusted with fallen pine needles. As
they drove over the bumpy terrain, sheltered in a canopy of green,
a large, log cabin came into view. It was so picturesque she
wondered if Betty Crocker lived there.

A variety of trucks were parked in the drive
and a smaller cottage like house sat in the distance. She pulled in
beside the SUV and Finn opened her door.

“Are you sure this is okay? You’re family
already has a full house.”

“We’re McCulloughs. Our house is always
full. Come on.”

She followed him up the porch steps, wishing
she’d dressed a little better than her black stretch pants and
sneakers. At least her sweatshirt covered most of her upper
body.

As he threw open a screen door, voices
greeted them. Several people were shouting and she had the sinking
sense they were walking into an argument. Before she could suggest
maybe they skip breakfast, Finn announced their arrival.

Everyone in the kitchen stilled and stared
at them for a split second that felt like an hour. She recognized
the McCullough children, but they’d multiplied like gremlins over
night. There were several children, a baby, two older women, and
many other adults she didn’t recognize.

Kelly, who was shirtless and still in his
pajama pants, was the first to greet her. “Hey, Philly, you made it
through the night!”

The talking picked back up with a roar of
chatter and she instinctively took a step back. Finn abandoned her
to kiss the woman at the stove who could only be his mother.

Braydon, who looked a bit green, hugged a
mug of coffee and slid over. “Here you go, Philly. Take a load
off.”

Their welcome was surprising. She hadn’t
expected to feel so accepted. She stepped closer to the table and
Finn caught her arm, stilling her progress. “Philly, let me
introduce you. This is me mum. Mum, this is Mallory Fenton, a
friend of mine.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs.
McCullough.”

Finn’s mother eyed her as if she was trying
to ask where she’d come from, but then her curious expression split
with a grin and she said, “Welcome to our home. Had I known we’d be
havin’ company I would have fixed myself up a bit. Excuse my
appearance.”

“Do you need help with anything?”

Her copper brows rose and her smile widened.
“Well, well, a woman who actually offers assistance in the
kitchen.” She slapped Finn’s cheek affectionately. “That’s a nice
change, dearie. No, you two go sit. Breakfast will be done in a few
minutes. Finnegan, get your friend some coffee. Juice is on the
table.”

Finn turned to her. “You want coffee?”

“I’ll just have water if you have it.”

He twisted his lips like he had to stifle a
comment on her choice, but he went to the sink and got her a glass
of water. She sat down next to Braydon and soon was immersed in
regaling stories from the night before.

Finn slid in beside her and Mrs. McCullough
began to cover every square inch of the long, wooden farm table
with food. The scent of succulent sausage, crispy, fried bacon, and
shingles of home fries wafted up from the surface. Mallory’s mouth
watered.

An enormous plate was settled in the middle,
overflowing with hot, fluffy, yellow scrambled eggs. Next came a
teetering stack of pancakes. “Dig in, loves,” Mrs. McCullough
announced as she settled into the seat next to a man who had to be
Finn’s dad.

Mallory hung back as elbows knocked and
hands grabbed. Siblings shouted and babies cried and a parade might
have passed through. Then all was quiet as everyone dug in. She
held her plate protectively to her chest and—once everyone else
seemed served—she reached out to scoop a small pile of eggs on her
plate.

“Is that all you’re gonna eat, dearie?”

Mallory stilled at Mrs. McCullough’s
question and felt everyone’s gaze. “Um…I had some fruit
earlier.”

“Leave her alone, Mum.”

She wanted to tell Finn it was fine, but she
was grateful for his interception. He gave her knee a conspirator’s
nudge under the table and she smiled.

Once everyone’s bellies were full, the
chatter continued. McCulloughs, she realized, only spoke in one
volume. Loud.

“I’ll be right back,” Finn said close to her
ear.

She watched as he stood and walked over to
the little old woman falling asleep at the end of the table.
Something inside of her chest pinched at the gentle way he woke her
and squatted close to the elderly woman’s ear. “Morai, do you want
to go to your room to lie down?”

The woman gave him a startled look and then
smiled softly. Her gaze was innocent and trusting like a confused
child. Finn stood and carefully took her elbow as she shuffled away
from the table.

When he disappeared with the woman who was
likely his grandmother, Mallory stared into her glass and wondered
if she’d ever seen something so beautiful or chivalrous. Part of
her mind replayed the soft way he’d spoken to her and she wanted to
lock it away as one of those Kodak moments one caught too rarely,
like seeing a couple that’s been married over half a century
holding hands in the grocery store. But another part of herself
warned that seeing those sides of her friend were dangerous and
would only confuse their platonic status and get her hurt.