Skin (McCullough Mountain 2) by Lydia Michaels

something special. She makes Colin a
better man than any white collar ever could.”
    “Were your parents upset?”
    He sniggered. “No, but Braydon was. She was
his girlfriend first.”
    “Braydon, your brother?”
    He tipped his beer, pointing the neck to the
blond at the bar. “Yup. He’s over it, though.”
    Her eye’s returned to Erin. She didn’t look
pleased that her boyfriend was talking to her. “Maybe you should go
back over there with your friends.”
    He frowned. “They know where I am. If they
want me they can come over here.” He eased back, making himself
comfortable and stretching out in the booth.
    The redhead picked up her beer and flitted
over to them, a young guy with blond hair on her trail. “Who’s
this?”
    Finn shifted his legs, making room and she
slid in beside him. “Sheilagh, this is Philly, a.k.a. Mallory
Fenton. Mallory, this is my sister, Sheilagh, and my cousin,
Patrick.”
    “Hi.”
    Sheilagh nodded, smiled kindly, and then
turned to Finn. “What’s up Erin’s ass?”
    He rolled his eyes. “I was late and she had
to sit alone for twenty minutes.”
    Sheilagh snorted. “Oh, the horror.”
    Mallory wanted to point out Erin was only
alone for about five minutes in reality, but it wasn’t her place.
Patrick straddled a chair at the end of the table and they talked
about people Mallory didn’t know.
    After about twenty minutes of casual
chit-chat, Finn’s sister finished her beer and stood. “Are we ready
to kick this off? I want one picture of Braydon hugging the toilet
before he goes.”
    “You’re evil,” Finn commented, sliding out
of the booth behind her.
    “You love it.”
    The three of them stood and Mallory had to
bite back her panic that they were leaving her.
    Finn turned. “You coming, Philly?”
    She smiled, completely relieved, and slid
out of the booth.
    He briefly looked over her outfit and
smiled. “You look nice.”
    “Thanks. So do you.”
    They went to the bar and Kelly gave a
Cheshire grin as he lined up several shot glasses. Erin sidled up
to Finn and hissed something in his ear. He frowned and shook his
head, whispered something back and then she stomped off toward the
ladies’ room.
    Finn pasted on a smile, but Mallory saw
through it. Shots were poured and there was a great sense of
camaraderie that came with the weight of a shot being pressed into
her palm.
    “To our golden boy, Braydon. May his last
year of school be the best he’s seen yet!” Luke toasted.
    The others raised their glasses and shouted,
“To Braydon!”
    Braydon, who of all the McCulloughs was the
fairest of skin and hair, grinned and tipped back his shot.
“Solute!” he said, slamming the empty glass back on the bar.
    Mallory’s eyes watered as her shot burned a
path to her belly. She gasped and slipped the glass back on the bar
with a shaky hand. “What was that?”
    “’Tis the best Irish whiskey O’Malley’s has
to offer,” Finn said.
    “It tastes like shit,” she grumbled, wiping
her lips with the back of her hand.
    He laughed. “Only the first one tastes of
shit. After that your taste buds burn away and it’s smooth sailing
until morning.”
    “How can you drink that?”
    “I’m Irish. It’s expected.”
    She laughed. “Nothing like proving a
negative stereotype wrong.”
    He nudged her with his hip. “We try.”
    “Hey, I know you,” Luke said, coming to her
side.
    Finn tipped his head and said, “Yeah, I
heard you two met at the market.”
    “You thought I was Finn, didn’t you?”
    “Sorry about that,” she said, her face
heating as she recalled how much of an ass she made of herself that
day.
    “No problem. So, where’d you come from?”
    She, again, explained about how she recently
moved from the city and the same connection was made that she would
be working with Samantha McCullough in a few days. She hoped the
mysterious Samantha would get there soon so she could put a face to
the name and maybe have a work ally before her first