Page 13 of Backed By You (Montgomery Brothers of Montana #3)

Beau

The bachelor party group chat that Rhett decided to throw me into goes off three times in quick succession.

I grit my teeth in response. I was supposed to meet everyone at the bar an hour ago, but Callie texted me not too long ago asking if I could help her get Hulk down from her Jeep when she gets home.

And like hell was I going to say no.

Last night felt…right. She fell asleep on the couch while we talked.

Her feet had somehow ended up in my lap, and I wasn’t about to wake her to move.

Instead, I tossed the throw blanket over us and sat there all night.

I dozed off a bit, but woke anytime she moved to get comfortable.

She apologized half a dozen times when she finally did wake. And I wished she hadn’t.

There was nothing to be sorry for.

She made us breakfast, and we talked about our plans for the day.

Hers included running to the store for a new phone and stopping by the animal hospital to check on Hulk.

I offered to go with her because, truth be told, I need to take it easy today.

There’s some swelling in my knee from yesterday’s exertion, and I’m not trying to push my luck any further than I already have.

Unfortunately, she declined my offer, thinking I had work to do on the new cabin build before I needed to get ready for my brothers’ dual bachelor party tonight.

Then, as I was about to leave for the bar, she texted me, asking for help.

I must look like one hell of a sucker sitting here waiting on her as friends of my new sisters-in-law begin showing up for the bachelorette party they’re throwing at the rental cabin.

I can’t stand the side eyes of curiosity much longer.

Less than a minute later, however, Callie’s Jeep pulls in. Slow and steady. I stand, not seeing Hulk in the front seat as I have in the past. I walk toward her as she kills the engine and hops out onto her booted foot with a cringe.

“Hey, sorry we’re late,” she says, limping to the trunk of the car. “I didn’t want to go too fast and jostle him. I even took the long way around town to avoid the mass of potholes on Main.”

“No worries,” I say, popping the tailgate open to a big, cone-headed pup. “How is he?”

“A little high, I think.” She giggles, the sound melodic enough to draw me a step closer. “They had a heck of a time managing his pain meds throughout the night, I guess. So he’s still coming down from some strong stuff.”

“Did you fill your script?” I ask, maneuvering Hulk in a way I can hook my arms under him to lift him. His ears perk to greet me, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. He looks happy to see me. Definitely high .

“Yes,” she says, hurrying beside me to catch the blanket he was lying on.

I slow my steps to keep her from straining her ankle. She’s moving with more confidence than yesterday, but clearly favoring her right.

Hulk’s considerable weight is solid in my arms, and I’m reminded again of how big he truly is. The German Shepherd seems content being carried, though his head rests trustingly against my shoulder.

Callie opens the door and I step carefully into the cabin, following her directions as she gestures toward the back door. “I set up his bed over by the patio door,” she explains. “I figured it would be easier for him to go out that way. Less walking.”

I gently lower Hulk onto the plush dog bed.

Pillows, blankets, toys. His food and water bowls are close by.

He settles with a contented sigh, stretching out his front paws.

The plastic cone around his neck bumps against the floor, and he gives me a look of such dignified resignation that I can’t help but smile.

“Home sweet home,” I say, giving his head a gentle scratch.

Callie kneels beside him, running her fingers through his fur, careful to avoid his bandaged back leg. “Thank you for waiting,” she says, looking at me in a way that does something to my chest. “And you’ll…” She hesitates, her hand resting on Hulk. “Will you be coming back tonight? After?”

The question hangs between us, loaded with implications I’m not sure either of us are ready to address. Part of me wants to say yes immediately—the part that’s drawn to her presence, her gaze, her attention. While another part recognizes how this temporary arrangement could complicate things.

I’m her landlord, after all.

“Do you want me to?” I ask.

She meets my gaze and something vulnerable flickers across her face. “I just thought—”

My phone rings in my pocket, cutting the conversation short. When I glance at the screen, I see Rhett’s name.

“You’re late,” she says softly. “You should go.”

I hesitate, looking at Hulk splayed out on his bed, then back to Callie. “Are you sure?”

It certainly wouldn’t ruin my night to stay in with her over partying with my brothers and their rowdy group. I don’t tell her that, though. For some reason, I have this asinine need to hear her ask me to stay.

“We’ll be fine. You’ve already done more than enough.”

“I’ll text you,” I say, reluctant to leave. “To check in.”

“I’d like that.”

At the door, I turn back for one last look. Callie has settled herself on the floor next to Hulk, her injured leg stretched out in front of her, one hand stroking his fur.

“Have fun tonight,” she calls.

I glance over my shoulder and note she never explicitly told me not to come back. The unspoken invitation follows me out the door and stays with me as I drive into town.

I park my truck outside of Tavern Nine and opt to sit in silence for a moment before I’m thrust into a brother-bonding experience I didn’t consent to. My mind continues to replay the look on Callie’s face when she asked if I’d be coming back.

What did she mean? To stay? To spend the night again?

Or was it a friendly ‘hangout’ invitation?

My head floods with thoughts as the lot continues to fill with vehicles.

I walk toward the front of the bar. The heavy wooden door swings open, releasing a wave of noise alongside the scent of fried food and alcohol.

Country music drowns out most conversation, but I spot my brothers and a few others near the pool tables off the back of the bar.

I was told the new ‘pool room’ here is a recent addition built by Rhett and Levi’s construction company, and Roger, the owner, reserved it specially for our group tonight at no charge.

“There he is!” Rhett’s voice booms over the music when he spots me heading their way.

Butch raises his beer in my direction, his smile wide beneath his thick beard. Levi, our youngest brother, is already three sheets to the wind, judging by his flushed face and the horrible shot he just took at the table. “Son of a—”

“Thought you might bail,” Rhett says, clapping my shoulder as I approach.

“Considered it,” I reply, accepting the beer Duke passes my way. I’m not a big drinker, never have been, but tonight… I wouldn’t mind the distraction.

“Rough night in the tent?” Duke asks with a knowing smirk. He lives right up the road. No doubt he saw the state of it the other day on his way to work.

“Tent’s history.”

“So, where you been crashing?” Levi slurs, throwing an arm around my shoulders as Stan, Butch’s best friend, takes his shot at the eightball and sinks it. Levi huffs.

The memory of Callie’s face when she found me on her couch flashes in my mind. Then her sound asleep beside me all night and into the morning. “Truck,” I lie, taking a swig of my beer.

Rhett raises a brow but doesn’t get a chance to press the issue as a waitress arrives with ten shots.

We each take a glass. “To the futures of the current Mr. and Mrs. Butch Montgomery and Mr. and Mrs. Duke Montgomery,” Rhett hoots, reminding me that even though this is a bachelor party for my brothers, they’re both already married.

The wedding reception was simply postponed for whatever reason. Babies, I suppose.

Everyone cheers, takes their shot, and returns to the informal pool competition. I force myself to join in—it’s what I’m supposed to do. These are my brothers, my family. This is home.

So why do I feel like I belong somewhere else entirely?

A few hours later, and one too many beers, Rhett takes the stool beside mine. “You gonna tell me what happened with the pretty neighbor, or am I gonna have to guess?”

I stare straight ahead, jaw tight. “Nothing to tell.”

“That bad, huh?” He chuckles. “Well, the night is young, brother. Plenty of distractions here.”

As if on cue, a group of women enter the bar, drawing appreciative glances from the single men in our crowd.

I keep my gaze averted and grip my beer tightly.

A lame attempt to focus on the celebration, on anything but the jump in my leg that’s urging me to leave and get the answer to the one question that’s plaguing my mind: Does she feel the same pull I do?

What the hell is wrong with me? I sound like a fucking sad sap, pining over some chick.

“What’s on your mind?” Rhett asks, pulling me from my thoughts as he takes the high-top seat beside me.

I shake my head and busy myself with a swig of beer. “Nothing.”

“Doesn’t seem like nothin’. You’ve got that same look you had when Tracy Wilks started flirting with Duke back in grade school. There’s something on your mind. Spit it out.”

I wouldn’t normally ask one of my brothers for dating advice, but out of all of them, I know I can talk to Rhett without fear of judgment. And after three beers and two shots, I may convince myself it’s a good idea. “Do you think I’m…easy to read?”

Rhett tips his beer from side to side, eyeing me curiously. “Why do you ask?”

I cross my arms and lean against the back of my chair. “Callie said—”

“Ohhh, I see.” My brother chuckles. “Lady troubles?”

I huff. “Not really a trouble.”

“It’s like that, huh?” He smiles, gesturing as if telling me to continue. “Go on. Let’s hear the details of how fucked you are for this girl.”

My scoff turns to laughter at the truth behind the statement. I tell him the truth about where I slept last night—avoiding the breaking and entering a few nights prior—and why I was late tonight.

Rhett shakes his head. “Dating is…fucking hard, man,” he says, drinking the last of his beer. “It’s not the same. There are apps and services and social media. You walk up to a girl at a gas station to hit on her and she thinks she’s about to be kidnapped.”

“Amen to that,” Levi chimes in, staggering over to the table. “It’s a war zone out there, bro. A war we ain’t gonna win.”

Rhett rolls his eyes. “Shut up, man. Just because you keep getting shot down for the long term doesn’t mean Beau doesn’t have a chance.”

Levi snarls at our brother.

“I get it,” I say, interrupting whatever bickering match they’re about to start on.

“Ah, ah, ah!” Stan whistles, catching the group’s attention. He points between Butch and Duke who are simultaneously on their phones and texting. “No checking on wives during bro night.”

“The girls need more tequila,” Butch says, his gaze shifting to Duke. “Cassidy asked if we could swing by the cabin on our way back.”

Duke nods. “Maci forgot her breast pump. You ready now?”

“Cabin?” Stan asks, interrupting their conversation.

“The girls decided to do a bachelorette party at Beau’s rental,” Duke tells him.

“Alison says it’s not a real bachelorette if there aren’t strippers, so it’s just a girls’ night,” Tanner, another one of Butch’s friends, chimes in.

Butch glares at him. “There better not be any strippers showing up.”

Rhett claps me on the shoulder. “You know, Cassidy mentioned something about inviting Callie.”

My beer freezes halfway to my lips. “She invited Callie?” Then there really better not be any fucking male strippers over there.

Butch scrolls through his phone. “Yeah, Cass says she knocked on her door earlier but got no answer.”

Irrational worry slices through me. She’s probably just busy taking care of Hulk .

The guys agree to the impromptu supply run for the girls, and I find myself at the head of the pack. A part of me is saying, I need to see her .

If my brothers are right, then I’m heading straight into a war zone.

And I’d gladly walk into war for her.