Free Skin (McCullough Mountain 2) by Lydia Michaels Page B

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.

Chapter Five
     
    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