Skin (McCullough Mountain 2), Page 3

  “No, tell me. What else does Mallory Philly Fenton like to do?”

  Kelly placed two ordinary beers in front of them and went to help some other customers. “I guess I don’t really do anything since I moved here. It’s kind of pathetic.”

  “Well, what did you do in the city?”

  She shrugged. “Worked. Slept. Attended uncountable baby showers.”

  “Aw, women love that crap.”

  Her face scrunched and she drew back. “Who told you that? Baby showers suck.”

  “They do? My mom and sisters had one for Sammy last year and they all went nuts over it.”

  “Who’s Sammy?” She was getting tipsy.

  “My sister-in-law, Colin’s wife. I told you, she works at the school.”

  “Oh. Right. Well, she may have loved it and maybe your mom, but most women find them tedious and annoying.”

  “Really?”

  “God yeah! There’s nothing worse than playing what’s smeared in the diaper and wearing beribboned hats.”

  “Yeah, Sammy wore a hat!”

  “Exactly,” she said, tipping the neck of her beer in his direction. “They suck. If I ever have kids I don’t want one.”

  “You get a ton of crap.”

  “True and baby stuff is expensive. I should know. I’ve bought enough over the past year. Maybe I’ll have one, but with ground rules.”

  “There you go. And what are they sniffing out of diapers?”

  “Melted chocolate or baby food. Some women even lick it.”

  “No!”

  “Yup. Woman do all kinds of crazy shit when men aren’t around,” she informed him, taking another sip of her beer.

  He stared at her for a long moment, a half-smile crooking his lips. “Like what? Tell me more secrets about the female species.”

  “Oh, I don’t know…okay. Women can have a closet full of clothes and nothing to wear.”

  “Even I knew that. Tell me something good,” he said, sipping his beer. He had a great Adam’s apple. Really nice and defined.

  “Women fart.”

  “I have two sisters—well, three now—I know that too. You’re gonna have to do better than that.”

  She thought for a minute. “When women have sleepovers we wear ugly clothes and old lady granny panties and there’s no pillow fights.”

  His expression sobered. “Why would you tell me that? You just killed, like, hundreds of fantasies.”

  She laughed and smacked his shoulder. “No man really believes that.”

  “Sure we do. At least tell me when you girls use the locker rooms you all shower together.”

  It was her turn to sober. Nope, that definitely never happened. She’d mastered the art of a full wardrobe change without showing a spot of flesh years ago. He was staring at her with those expectant blue eyes. “Sure, we do that.”

  “Really?” His smile was back. He had great teeth.

  She pushed him. “No!”

  He tipped his head back and groaned. “You’re killing me, Philly. What else you got?”

  “There’s a magic spot on a girls neck that will make her do whatever you want.”

  He stilled, beer tipped to his mouth and raised an eyebrow. “Where is this magical spot you speak of?”

  “It’s a secret.”

  “Oh, come on!”

  She edged off her stool and stood. The alcohol had definitely gotten to her. She leaned close—wow, he smelled good—and ran her finger from his ear, down his stubble, to the curve of his shoulder. “It’s right here.”

  He shifted and she knew she gave him chills. “I can see that.” He sipped his beer and the moment was broken. “What else you got?”

  “You guys need another one?” Kelly appeared in front of them.

  “Shh, she’s giving me pearls here, Kelly. Don’t interrupt.”

  “Pearls of what?” Their empties were removed and replaced with fresh bottles.

  “Girl secrets,” Finn said.

  “Oh, I know all of them,” Kelly announced and Mallory had no doubt he did. There was something intoxicating about Kelly McCullough that every female probably reacted to, something that said I’m a bad boy who will break your heart, but make up for it in the sack.

  Kelly turned away and Finn nodded for her to go on.

  “Okay, women like a man in charge.”

  “Right, holding doors and picking up tabs. Got it.”

  “No, more than that. I mean really in charge.”

  “Like in bed?”

  She nodded. “We work hard and make only a portion of what men make. When it comes to equality we don’t want it in the bedroom. We want a man in charge.”

  “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.

  Chapter Three

  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.”