Skin (McCullough Mountain 2)

by Lydia Michaels

  “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.

  Chapter Two

  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 getti
ng 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.

  Tracy’s wedding had been her breaking point. When the DJ announced the bouquet toss and Mallory was the only one shoved onto the dance floor, she nearly died of embarrassment. She’d smiled and played the part, made a few sarcastic comments, and caught the damn flowers.

  The guy who caught the garter didn’t look too excited about having to put it on her leg. The true moment of mortification came when the stupid elastic lace barely stretched past her lower thigh. She’d shoved down her dress and walked right out to the parking lot without saying goodbye.

  That night, after tossing her bouquet in the box with all the other dried bouquets she’d caught, she opened her laptop and Googled job listings. Her resume was forwarded to over twenty businesses, all over two hours away from the city.

  She couldn’t do it anymore. It was so hard, constantly watching her friends kiss and smile and have babies. She wanted to run away. Then she had her doctor appointment and the last shred of her self-esteem turned to ash.

  Her plan was to move away, lose weight, and come back in a year as the New and Improved Mallory Fenton. She took down all her pictures on Facebook and packed up her apartment the day after she was offered the job at Center County High. No one understood why she was moving and she didn’t bother to explain.

  All of her life she’d never been able to borrow anything but shoes from her size two friends. They wouldn’t get it. They’d watched her diet since she was a little girl and she couldn’t face them after failing again. But this time would be different. She wasn’t going to quit. She was getting healthy and changing her thinking once and for all. No one would do it for her, so she was doing it for herself. The problem was…she missed her friends terribly.

  * * * *

  That night, she did up her eyes, straightened her hair, and painted her nails. She was going out. There was a pub in town, O’Malley’s, that seemed to cater to people her age. Her black spring dress covered just the right amount of leg and the empire waist hid a good amount of the bad. Her white cardigan would be warm, but hopefully the pub was air-conditioned. She made a habit of hiding her jiggly arms and the cardigan wouldn’t be coming off.

  She waited in the parking lot for some version of her mental pep talk to sink in. Get out of the car.

  In the city, she and her friends often visited jazz clubs and good restaurants. Things were different here.

  Maybe you over-dressed.

  As she watched people enter the pub she took note of the girls. She never really paid much attention to guys, as they never really saw her, but she always watched the girls.

  Everyone who went into the bar wore jeans and T-shirts. Mallory had never been able to pull off that casual look. Her T-shirts were always cut too high or hung too wide. If she dressed down she looked like a slob, so she usually dressed up, which was fine in a city like Philadelphia. But out here in the boonies, she felt like a smacked ass in her kitten heels and dress.

  Say you were coming from a funeral. Who died? She pressed her head into the steering wheel. Just go home. Maybe Friends is on.

  There was a tap on her window and she jumped. Holy fuck. It was him. The guy from the grocery store. She turned her key and rolled down the window. Her mountain man smiled.

  “I thought that was you. Fun’s inside. What are you doing out here?”

  Mallory stared, just stared. Did he suddenly remember her? She frowned. It was an act, in the grocery store. He must not have wanted his friend to see her. Her lips tightened and she scowled at him.

  “What? You suddenly remember me?” She couldn’t help the snarky tone.

  He frowned. “What are you talking about? Mallory Fenton, trespasser and jogger extraordinaire. How could I forget?”

  What? Why was he being so nice? She didn’t want to like him. Only a complete asshole would act like they don’t know someone when they take the time to say hello. He’d embarrassed her. “Well, you sure had a brain fart the other day in the market.”

  “Uh…I haven’t been to the market in months.” He made a bashful expression. “I’m a momma’s boy. She does all the cooking.”

  He lived with his mom? Wait, he was lying again! “I saw you. I looked right at you and said hi. You acted like you didn’t know me.”

  He frowned then smiled as though something occurred to him. “When you saw me, did I have this tattoo?”

  She looked at the arm he displayed. There was some sort of Irish tribal inked into his skin. How had she missed that before? His flannel had probably been covering it. “I don’t know.”

  “You probably saw Luke, my brother. We’re twins.”

  “It was definitely—wait, twins?”

  He nodded. “Identical. People get us confused all the time.”

  Oh my God, you are such a total idiot.

  She laughed nervously. “Oh. I didn’t know you had a twin. You two look exactly the same. Might want to think about tagging your ear or something.”

  “Most people can tell by our tattoos. Wanna come in and have a drink?”

  “How about a shot?”

  “My kind ’a girl.” He smiled and opened her door. She rolled up her window and pulled out the key. Relief repaired some of her hurt feelings as she walked toward the entrance with him, careful not to touch him. He didn’t smell as woodsy as before. Tonight he wore light cologne that smelled really yummy.

  “Why are you all dressed up? You have some fancy party to go to or something?”

  “Or something.”

  He held the door and she stepped into the entryway. It was the usual pub done in greens and browns with dim lighting and pool tables. Nobody really noticed her coming in, but when her mountain man entered various people waved and called out to him. He nodded and put his hand on her back—causing her to tense—as he ushered her to the bar.

  The bartender, a very sexy guy with striking blue eyes to match the blue highlights in his black hair came over and greeted them. “Finnegan, my man. Who’s your friend?”

  “Kelly, this is Mallory Fenton. Mallory Fenton, this is my brother, Kelly.”

  She smiled. “Another brother?”

  “Aye, we’re a big brood,” Kelly said as he placed coasters on the bar. “What can I get’chya?”

  “Mallory here would like a shot,” her mountain man—Finnegan—said.

  “Pick your poison,” Kelly said.

  “Tequila with lime.”

  Kelly nodded. “Finn?”

  “I’ll take a shot of Telly.”

  Kelly turned and prepared the shots. When they appeared in front of them, Finnegan raised his glass and said, “To trespassers and runnin’ when something’s chasing you.”

  She laughed and tapped her glass to his. The fiery liquid burned down her throat and she hissed. Her face puckered as she sucked on the lime. Dropping it in the shot glass, she said, “I needed that.”

  The two brothers smiled at her. “Where you from, love?” Kelly asked.

  She hadn’t eaten much that day and the booze was swirling nicely in her blood. She grinned. He called her love and she wasn’t about to correct him. “Philly.”

  “Ah, a city girl. How’d you meet Finn?”

  She glanced at Finnegan as his brother replenished their drinks. “We, uh, sort of just ran into each other.”

  “Solute,” Finnegan said, raising his glass.

  She tapped his
and tipped the shot back.

  “Where’s Erin?” Kelly asked.

  “She’ll be here eventually. How about a Guinness? You ever try a car bomb, Mallory?”

  “When you drop the shot in the beer?”

  “Yeah. You gotta chug it.”

  She laughed. This was the most fun she’d had in weeks. “I’ll be picking myself up off the floor soon.”

  “No,” Kelly said, filling two pilsners with dark, black beer. “We’ll pick you up.”

  He slammed down two beers followed by two creamy shots. She took a deep breath. “All right, show me how it’s done.”

  Finn grinned and dropped the shot, glass and all, into his beer. The brew faded with a rising shade of tan. He tipped back the glass and guzzled. His throat was long and tan, rough with stubble. What a nice, little mountain man.

  He slammed down his empty pilsner and the shot glass rattled inside. “You’re up, Philly.”

  She grinned at his challenge and dropped her shot in her glass. It was difficult to drink. She wasn’t the chugging sort, more of a light sipper. The beer was potent and strong and she wasn’t sure she liked it. They cheered and patted on the bar, creating a wild drumroll that made her heart race and her grin tighten. When she swallowed the last sip she gasped and they roared with applause. Kelly reached over and rang a bell.

  People looked to see what all the ruckus was and she flushed. Well, she’d wanted to make friends. This was one way to break out of her wallflower status.

  Finn threw down a twenty. “Oh!” Where were her manners? She reached for her purse. “Here.”

  He waved her off. “Those were on me. So have you been running lately?”

  Music kicked on and she shouted into his ear. “Why are you so obsessed with my exercise habits?”

  He shrugged. “It’s what I know about you. You run.”

  “I do other stuff.”

  “Like what? Drink?”

  “Well, that too. I don’t know. I like to go to restaurants…” Watch reality TV, sit at home alone and read, vacuum…” Never mind.” You’re such a loser.