Page 80 of When We Break

“With all due respect,” Beckett says to my mother as he leans forward in his seat, “what in the hell is wrong with all of you? Skyla’s absolutely stunning, just as she is.”

“Beck,” I say softly, rubbing my hand up and down his spine. “It’s all right.”

“No.” He shakes his head and looks over at me, his dark eyes full of indignation. “It’s not okay for anyone to comment on your or anyone’s size, Irish.”

“Irish?” Connor asks, but we all ignore him.

“I’m the one who has to lift her in the air,” Mik insists, his stubborn face in a scowl.

“Then I guess you’d better hit the gym because I have no trouble at all lifting her and carrying her wherever the hell she wants to go.”

Da’s eyebrows wing up. Ma presses her lips together, trying not to smile.

And Connor laughs.

“I’ve been saying this shite for years,” my brother says, running his hand down his face. “Finally, someone agrees with me.”

“I get that you have a job to do,” Beckett says to Mik as the two men glare at each other. Ma winks at me. I can tell she likes my man. “But it’s notherjob, not anymore. I won’t have her hungry, or starving herself, or hating any inch of her gorgeous body because she feels loyal to you and obligated to perform with you one last time. You’ll speak to her with respect, or you won’t speak to her at all.”

The plane is utterly silent as Mik glares at Beckett, then he turns to me.

“I like him.”

Da laughs and leans over to pat Beck on the shoulder. “Aye, as do I. What do you do, Beckett?”

Beckett tells my family about his dairy operation, his guest ranch, and how his family has been a mainstay in Bitterroot Valley for so long. My parents listen, interested, and it makes me proud that they don’t for even one minute insinuate that Beckett might not be good enough for me, simply because he doesn’t come from the same economic background as my family.

“I respect a family-run business backed by a strong work ethic,” Da says when Beckett pauses. “Tell me more about the guest homes you rent.”

Even Connor leans in, listening. Ever the businessman.

When anyone discusses hospitality around my family, that’s all they want to talk about. And honestly, I don’t mind because I’m proud of Beckett.

“I have to interrupt,” I say, and when I turn to Beckett, he nods. “Beck has shown them to me, and I have to say that they’re just brilliant. Eight tiny A-frame homes face the most gorgeous view of the mountains. Honestly, if I stayed there, I’d never leave to do other activities because he’s had them decorated so sweetly, such that they’re cozy and luxurious, and with that view, he can’t go wrong.”

“You should be in charge of all of my marketing, Irish,” Beck says before planting a kiss on my temple.

“Oh, I’d love to see them,” Ma says. “We’ve been to Bitterroot Valley a couple of times to see Skyla, of course, but we haven’t been able to get out to see the scenery. Perhaps we’ll have to rent one of those cabins the next time we’re in the area.”

The thought of that excites me.

“You should. And he has chickens.”

Connor blinks at me. “So?”

“I love the chickens.”

Beckett’s laughing beside me. “Out of all the animals on my ranch, I think it’s hilarious that you love those chickens so much.”

“They’re hard workers,” I insist, lifting my chin. “And the eggs are delicious.”

Mik’s eyes are narrowed on me as he listens.

“My malishka is no longer a city girl.”

Lifting an eyebrow, I tip my head to the side. “No, I guess I’m not.”

“And one day,” Da says, “you’ll tell us the real reason you left the city. I know it’s not just because of your ankle,a stór.”

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