Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
BECKETT
“I can walk, Beck.” Skyla’s arms are curled around my neck as I carry her out of the bathroom.
“No.” After kissing her temple, I snatch her reading device off the bedside table and carry my girl downstairs to the living room.
We like to curl up in the corner of the sectional to read together. It’s become a routine in the evenings, one of my favorite things to do with her.
I enjoy the stories, but mostly, I just like being with her. With the woman of my dreams, curled up to my side, hugging me as we read to each other.
I know my brothers would give me shit for it but fuck that. I like it. Looks like Bridger was right after all. Not that I’d tell him that.
After I get Skyla settled under a blanket, I kiss her head. “Want some tea?”
“No.” She shakes her head. “I want you to sit with me.”
“I’m getting you water, then.”
Riley follows me into the kitchen and indicates he wants to go out, so I open the door for him, and he bounds out to do his thing. Skyla prefers her water with lemon in it, so by the time I fill a glass with ice, water, and the fresh lemon, Riley’s ready to come back in.
“A bottle of water would have been just fine,” she says when I pass her the glass, and Riley curls up on his bed.
“You like it this way, so you’ll have it this way.” I catch her chin in my fingers and kiss her sweet lips. “Ready to read?”
“Hmm.” She wakes up the device and passes it to me, which makes my lips curl up in a smile. Although we typically take turns reading, she prefers it when I read to her. We started a book last night about a motorcycle club president and a girl who just moved back to her hometown after being dumped by her stupid boyfriend.
Mafia to motorcycle clubs. Who knew this would be my life?
It’s not long before said president has the girl alone, in his bedroom, and up against the wall.
I glance down, and Skyla has that lower lip trapped in her teeth. Her hand squeezes my bicep, and I decide to have a little fun.
“Here, Irish. Your turn to read.”
My girl frowns up at me. “You’re tired already?”
“Not tired.” I shake my head and insist she take the device. “Just keep reading.”
“If you have to go to the bathroom, I can wait?—”
I cut her off with my mouth on hers. “Just read, baby.”
She shrugs, skims the page, then picks up where I left off as I kneel on the floor between her legs. I tuck my fingers in the waistband of her leggings and tug them down her hips, legs, and then off completely, tossing them aside along with her panties. Skyla gasps, watching me.
“Read.” My voice is hard, and her pupils blow wide at the command, but she keeps watching me, so I push up and frame her face in my hands, kiss her hard, and pull back. “Read to me, gorgeous. Don’t stop. If you stop reading, you don’t get to come.”
“Beckett.”
“No, I think his name is Wolf.” I smirk and kiss her neck before I make my way back south. “Do it.”
She licks her lips, clears her throat, and starts to read again while I get to work.
“My gods, he just quoted The Great Gatsby to her,” Skyla says, then sighs when I kiss the inside of her thigh. “Beck?—”
“Nope. I have this handled. You read.”
The man in the book has the woman by the throat, and it makes Skyla’s voice turn breathy. It has to be that because I don’t have a finger on her yet.
So my hand drifts up her leg, up her torso over her shirt, and I loosely hold on to her throat, and her words stumble to a halt.
“You like that, baby?”
“In theory.” She licks her lips, not looking away from the book. “But I like it better when you pull my hair.”
Fuck me.
“That’s my girl.”
She clears her throat and keeps reading, and I slide the tip of my finger through her already wet slit, making her stammer.
But she doesn’t stop.
And I reward her with a light lick over her clit.
“Oh, feck,” she whispers.
“Is that in the book?”
She shakes her head, and I pull away, making her groan in frustration.
“I warned you about what would happen if you stopped.”
She glares at me, but she begins reading again, and I return to the task at hand. Her pussy is already swollen with arousal, and I can’t resist her. Leaning in, I bury my face in her, lapping and nibbling, making her hips rotate and her voice shake.
But she doesn’t stop.
Her feet are sore, and I don’t want her digging into my back or the cushion, so I brace her legs over my arms so her feet dangle to the side. I open her wider, still kissing her core.
My girl continues to read without missing a beat but manages to get her shirt over her head and casts it aside. The clothing against my own skin is too much, and I pull back long enough to yank off my T-shirt, unfasten my jeans, and release my aching dick. I’m surprised there isn’t a permanent imprint from my zipper up my shaft since I’m so fucking hard for her.
Skyla lets out a gasp of surprise when I tug her down and flip her over so she’s bent over the seat of the sofa. I pull the tie off the end of her braid, loosening her soft red strands so I can dig my fingers in. She moans, drops her forehead to the seat, and I back away.
“Beckett!”
“I didn’t say you could stop reading, Irish.”
She whimpers but then pushes up onto her elbows and grabs the device. Her voice is smoky, full of lust and need as she reads, and I lean in to pepper kisses on her back and over her sexy freckles, making her whimper again.
But she doesn’t stop.
From behind, I press my two middle fingers into her and feel her tighten around me.
“So fucking wet,” I growl against her shoulder blade as my thumb brushes over her hard clit, making her hips buck against my hand.
And she doesn’t stop reading.
Kissing and nibbling my way up to her ear, I press my lips to the shell of that gorgeous, freckled ear and whisper, “Good girl.”
Her pussy clenches around my fingers, making me chuckle.
But she doesn’t stop.
I drag my whiskers down her spine, and her flesh erupts with goose bumps as I kiss the top of her ass, just above that little puckered muscle. I bring her right leg up, resting her knee on the cushion.
I fucking love how flexible she is.
Just as the woman in the book reaches her climax, I take my fingers from her pussy, lick them clean, and push my dick inside her. I bury myself balls deep and fist my hand in that gorgeous-as-fuck hair, tugging her head back.
“Beck.”
I pause but let her speak.
“Please.”
“Please what, Irish?”
“Please, can I stop?”
Grinning, so fucking pleased with her, I reach around to press my fingertip to her hard, pulsing clit.
“Yes, baby, you can stop now.”
“Thank Christ,” she mutters and lets her head fall, but my grip on her hair keeps her from collapsing onto the sofa. “Oh my God, I’ve never?—”
She can’t complete the sentence as I push hard, over and over again, into her sweet, tight pussy.
“Never what?” I demand.
She tries to shake her head, but I hold firm.
“Never what, Irish? I won’t ask again.”
“I’ve never felt anything like this.” She groans as her contractions start, and I know she’s right there.
“Come, beautiful. Come all over me. God, you’re making such a beautiful mess. I fucking love it.”
“Beckett,” she cries out, pushing against me. “Harder.”
I raise an eyebrow in surprise but don’t need her to repeat herself. My hand in her hair tightens, and I slam into her, and she yells out, falling apart.
Her pussy milks me so hard, I can’t help but follow her over, and I swear I must black out because the next thing I know, I’m folded over her back, panting, kissing her shoulders.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, are you trying to kill me, then?” she asks with a laugh in her voice.
“God, baby.” I can’t stop touching her soft-as-fuck skin. My hand drags down the long curve of her spine, and she purrs. “You’re every fantasy brought to life.”
“That’s you.” She shakes her head, and when I release her hair, she falls to the sofa, trying to catch her breath.
I pull out of her and take in the mess we made—I wasn’t exaggerating. She made a fucking mess —and I decide, fuck it. I lift her in my arms, sit with her in my lap, and reach for her water to offer it to her.
“You need this, Irish.”
Her eyelids are heavy, and she looks so blissed out. It makes me proud.
“Thanks.”
She wraps both hands around the glass and sips.
“I’ll clean us up in just a minute.” I kiss her forehead. “Are you okay?”
“Aside from the fact that my brain is numb?” Her smile is soft, and I love the way she wrinkles up her nose when she rubs her fingers in my whiskers. “I’m bloody fantastic, a ghrá . And how are you, then? What can I do for you?”
“You can tell me what a ghrá means.”
Her lips twitch into a soft smile, and she runs her fingertips down my face and into my whiskers.
“It means my love. ”
She blows me away every day. I don’t need anything from her when she’s in my arms like this. Nothing at all.
“This. This is all you need to do for me, and I’ll take care of the rest.”
She sighs. “I do love the way you take care of me, Mr. Blackwell.”
* * *
“I wanted the rentals to be far enough away from the dairy operation and my house that I don’t get unwanted visitors,” I inform Connor as I drive him in the side-by-side on the path toward the cabins. “We get a few wanderers now and then, but they’re quickly directed back to where they need to be. There’s a separate gated entrance onto the property for guests.”
He nods, taking in the scenery around us.
It’s a Sunday, which means that all of my siblings are here for the day, to play or work, whatever they want to do. We also invited Connor, Mik, and Benji out, and they took us up on the offer. Skyla has Mik and Benji out at the horse barn.
Connor wanted a tour of the guest cabins, which didn’t surprise any of us.
“Do you have accommodations for meals?” he asks me.
“No, I don’t have a communal space for a kitchen, or lounging. Each cabin has its own kitchen. I’ve thought of adding a lodge-type building with single rooms or suites and a commercial kitchen, so it becomes more like a bed and breakfast, but for now, I’m a one-man show, and I’d need much more staff for that, not to mention money.”
He nods again. “My sister was right. It’s beautiful out here, Beckett.”
“This whole area is amazing,” I agree. “But I like to think there’s something extra special about this property. The views from the cabins are the best out there. Before my parents retired and I took over the farmhouse, I thought about building my own house out here. When I didn’t need to do that, I wanted to do something special instead. You should see the alpenglow on those mountains when the sun is setting. It’s ridiculous.”
I turn the bend on the path, and the trees magically part, showing off a stunning mountain range and pasture full of wildflowers. To my delight, a family of moose gathers about fifty yards away.
“Bloody hell,” Connor breathes, and I can’t resist looking over at him. His eyes are wide, and he’s slack-jawed as he takes it in. “Did you pay those moose to be here?”
“I wish it were that easy. You should hear the complaints from guests who thought they’d have grizzly bears outside their front door every morning, didn’t, and then left me a one-star because of it.”
“Wait. They wanted a grizzly to be waiting for them?”
“They’re stupid, man.” I shrug and pull up in front of one of the empty cabins, cut the engine. “This one is clean and empty. Let’s have a look.”
But when I turn back, Connor’s standing with his back to me, his hands on his hips, staring at the mountains. At the moose. At the pasture.
So I wait.
Because I get it. Montana will wrap itself around your throat and squeeze when you least expect it.
Finally, he takes a deep breath and then turns to me with a nod.
After punching in the code for the door, I open it up and step aside, gesturing for him to go in ahead of me.
I don’t join him for a minute. I give him time to look without me hovering, but the truth is, I’m fucking nervous.
I like Connor, but he’s a third-generation hotelier. Hospitality is in his blood. I just have eight rental cabins with a view.
“I have questions,” he says, so I step inside.
“Shoot.”
“Are all of these the same size?” he asks.
“No. This one sleeps four. I have a few that sleep two and one that sleeps up to six.”
He nods and leans on the marble countertop of the island.
“How much do you have invested in these?”
I narrow my eyes on him.
“I’m just curious.”
“About two million.”
He nods slowly. “You did a good job with these, Beckett. Skyla was right. They feel luxurious and would bring in clientele from all walks of life.”
“Would you stay here?” I ask him, crossing my arms over my chest. “You say all walks of life, but you’re telling me a billionaire would rent this place?”
“I wouldn’t hesitate because of the accommodations,” he replies. “But I wouldn’t stay here because you don’t have a lodge that offers room service and concierge services. Staying in this cabin, for example, would be perfectly acceptable to me if I want to go camping.”
I snort out a laugh, and he shrugs.
“I’m not kidding. This would be like camping for me, or as close to it as I’d want to get. But again, that’s just me. I know plenty of very wealthy people who’d snatch this up in a heartbeat because they don’t give a shite about room service. They prefer to be left alone. They may ask you to stock the kitchen for them, but that would be that.”
I nod, thinking it over. “Makes sense.”
My phone rings in my pocket, and I scowl when I check the screen.
“Uh, sorry, I have to take this.”
“No problem.”
I step outside and accept the call. “Hello?”
“Um, hi, Beckett, this is Juliet. Brooks’s ex.”
The hell? Why is my brother’s ex-girlfriend calling me?
“Of course, I know who you are, Jules. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t surprised to hear from you.”
Brooks is going to blow a gasket when I tell him.
“Yeah, I know, and I hope I’m not making this too awkward, but I have a couple of questions for you.”
“Okay.” I shove my free hand in my pocket and stare at the moose still standing in the field. “What’s up?”
I have no idea why she’d be calling me. We weren’t particularly close when she and Brooks were together, and when they broke up, there was no question as to where our loyalties lay.
And it wasn’t with her.
“Well, I’m going to be opening a new eatery in Bitterroot Valley, and my specialty is going to be farm-to-table food. Organic, gluten-free, with a clean kitchen.”
“Shouldn’t all kitchens be clean? I mean, I’m no restaurant expert, but?—”
She chuckles. “I mean that it will be safe for people with food sensitivities like celiac disease.”
That grabs my interest. Does she know that Birdie was diagnosed with celiac earlier this year?
“I want to use as much local food as I can,” she continues. “And I’m making a list of vendors to buy from. I’d like to buy all of my dairy products from you.”
“I don’t see why that would be a problem.” I always have enough on hand for new customers, and with enough notice, I can adjust accordingly.
She’s quiet for a moment, then lets out a gusty sigh. “You don’t think Brooks would freak out if my restaurant serves Blackwell Dairy products?”
“Brooks is a grown man, Jules.”
There’s another pause.
“How is he, Beck?”
I remember how angry Brooks got at his garage when I mentioned her.
You’ll keep her name out of your mouth.
He’s not okay where she’s concerned, but that’s not my story to tell.
“Brooks is great,” I reply because aside from the shit that went down between them, it’s not a lie. “But I won’t tell him you said hi. When are you moving back to town?”
“In a few months. I need to come home.”
“Well, good luck with the new business. When you can, let’s meet up and work out quantities and delivery schedules and all that stuff. My guess is that you’d need to give about a thirty-day heads-up so I can have everything you need on hand. But we can fine-tune that when we get closer.”
“I can do that. Thanks, Beckett. I’ll see you later.”
“Bye, Jules.”
I hang up and let out a breath. Jesus, Brooks is going to be a dick about this, but I have to let him know.
Today.
At dinner.
Fucking awesome.
“Who the feck is Jules?” Connor asks as he steps out of the cabin behind me. “And do I have to break your legs?”
I shake my head and push my phone into my pocket. “Fuck, no. Jules is my brother’s ex, and she’s going to open a new restaurant in town. She wanted to know if she could buy her dairy from me. I don’t see a problem with that, but I’ll have to tell Brooks.”
“I take it that they didn’t end as friends.”
“Fucking understatement of the year. He won’t be happy. About what you said, though, you don’t have to worry about me fucking around on Irish. That’s not my style.”
He nods and shoves his hands in his pockets, mirroring me.
“I can see that you love her. Your house is outfitted for a dog as if Riley has lived there since he was a puppy.”
“She loves that dog,” I reply. “And so do I. He’s a good boy. He should be as comfortable as we are. And if you’re wondering what my intentions are with your sister, well, like I told you in LA, I’m going to marry her. I’m going to worship her for the rest of my life because there is no one else for me. She’s everything good in this world, and I don’t care if that sounds … whatever. I love her.”
“Good.” He claps me on the shoulder. “Don’t fuck it up.”
With a laugh, I move toward the side-by-side. “We’d better head back.”
On route to the house, I glance at the other man again.
“Before we’re with the others, is there any news on The Asshole?”
Connor blows out a breath. “There’s no evidence that he ever left New York. No flight booked, commercial or private, under his name.”
“How the fuck did he manage that?”
Connor shakes his head. “He’s so fecking dirty, who knows.”
“Does he have mafia ties?” I ask him, and his head jerks as he scowls at me. “I’m serious. Does he?”
“Not that I know of.”
“I don’t know anything about that world,” I continue, “but it seems to me that he has an awful lot of people in his pocket and magic tricks up his sleeve for a run-of-the-mill rich guy.”
Connor’s hands ball into fists.
“I’ll make some calls,” he says quietly, effectively ending that conversation. We’re at the house now, anyway.
When we walk inside, I see that everyone is already here. Dani and Skyla, along with Blake and Birdie, are in the kitchen, and everyone else is gathered close, at the far side of the island or the breakfast nook, chatting and laughing.
Gatherings just like this are what this house was built for. It’s way too big just for me, but for family gatherings, it’s perfect. And as my eyes find Skyla, as if they can’t stay away from her, a level of contentment envelops me. She is the reason this house has become an even better place to come home to each day. As Connor said, Riley seems to have lived here since he was a puppy. But she made these walls a home, almost effortlessly.
“Uncle Beck,” Birdie says, waving from the kitchen. “We’re making s’getti with meatballs.”
“Sounds good enough to eat.” I bury my face in Birdie’s neck and blow a raspberry, making her giggle. “How are you, peanut? Feeling okay?”
“Yep. We have gluten-free noodles for me,” she says with a smile. “And they don’t taste too bad.”
“Well, good. I’ll eat them with you if you want.”
“No, they’re for me .”
“Fine, keep them, then.” I turn to Skyla, who’s grinning at me, and I wrap my arms around her shoulders and kiss her, right here in front of everyone.
“Get a room,” Blake says as he walks by.
“Go away,” I reply without looking at my brother. “How are you, Irish?”
“Happy you’re here.”