Page 21 of Backed By You (Montgomery Brothers of Montana #3)

Beau

Callie and I fall into a pattern over the next three weeks.

She spends her days with Hulk working on finishing some ‘big project’ she needs to have ready for some producer in LA, while I’ve been fighting to get this cabin build as close to done as I can before we go.

We meet at the end of the day, share dinner, have sex, and I sleep better than I have in my entire life with her in my arms every night.

We’re essentially living together, but neither of us broaches the subject officially—my duffle bag still packed and sitting on her bedroom floor.

She even paid her rent on the first of the month last week.

When I brought it up, she brushed me off with a ‘ fair is fair .’ Whatever the hell that means.

I wanted to press her on it, but I dropped it instead.

I’m no relationship expert, but I think we may have skipped a step or two.

Not that I’m complaining.

It’s 0700 and I’ve just pulled in to Duke’s to drop off Hulk for the next two weeks. The early morning sun casts long shadows across the mountains, painting everything in a stunning golden Montana light.

I glance in the rearview mirror at Callie sitting in the backseat with him, her arm around Hulk and kissing the side of his massive head.

Her eyes are red from crying. She cried all night and into the morning.

Practically sleeping on his dog bed with him, we opted to bring him as close to the bed as possible.

Thankfully, Maci offered to dog sit. Duke was thrilled to use the moment as a test for life with a baby and a dog—something he’s been begging Maci for. Rumor has it, Maci already bought him one for their anniversary; he just doesn’t know it yet.

I park the truck and hop out, walking around to the back to grab Hulk’s bed, food, dishes, and sack of toys.

“Morning,” Duke calls, jogging toward me. With a huge grin on his face, he takes the grocery bags full of Hulk’s premium dog food, frozen chicken, and painkillers. He hasn’t needed them as much the last few weeks, and he’s been walking like a champ, but Callie insisted we bring them just in case.

Her walking boot has been off for weeks as well, and with a bit of makeup, the thin red line by her temple is invisible.

You’d never know she took a hell of a fall less than a month ago as she hops out in a form-fitting summer dress that’s had me adjusting myself one too many times in the last hour.

“Morning,” I say, nodding to the bed and bag in my hand. “Where do you want this?”

“Inside,” my brother says with the giddy excitement of a school boy. I smirk. “I cleared him a spot in the living room. I even got him a bed for my office at work.”

“That’s really sweet of you.” Callie sniffles as she helps Hulk down from the backseat. The hair on his hind leg is growing in faster than I thought it would. “Thank you again for doing this.”

Duke grins. “Are you kidding me? I should be thanking you for thinking of us,” he tells her. “Olivia is going to be thrilled. Maci even commented that she’s interested to see how a big dog will fit in with our routine and the house.”

“Sounds like you might be getting your wish soon,” I comment. Callie nudges me with her elbow and glares.

My brother shrugs. “A man can dream.”

We follow Duke inside his two-story, custom-built mountainside home and enter through the kitchen, where Olivia is perched in her highchair having breakfast.

Maci stands at the sink, smiling at our arrival. “Good morning,” she calls.

Olivia squeals the moment she lays eyes on Hulk, her arms flailing with excitement. His tail wags vigorously as he trails beside Callie to say hello. The baby giggles that flood the room put a smile on everyone’s face.

I wait off to the side as Callie talks through Hulk’s schedule and his trained cues for needing to go out or if he may be in pain.

She hands them a written report she’s been working on all week, reiterating everything she just told them.

“If anything comes up, please call me,” she says finally.

“You have my number and Beau’s, but I also wrote down my friend Shea’s, my father’s, and my assistant’s. ”

Maci’s brow furrows as she looks over the three sheets of paper in hand. “You have an assistant?”

“Production assistant,” she says. “She’ll have my phone and such during interviews and the premiere.”

Duke snorts, impressed. “Sounds fancy.”

Callie laughs. “Well, it is LA.”

I clear my throat, noting the time. “We need to head out if we’re going to make the flight.”

Hulk is sitting next to Olivia’s highchair, content as can be as Callie crouches beside him. She kisses him and he licks her tear-streaked face.

“You be a good boy, okay?” Her lower lip wobbles. “I’ll be back in two weeks. And we’ll video chat every night. I love you so much, big boy.” She hugs him one last time before standing with a choked cry.

She turns with a sniffle, meets my gaze, and walks right into my arms. I hold her as she buries her face in my chest, clinging to me…in front of my brother and sister-in-law.

Something tightens in my chest—a mixture of protectiveness and something else I’m still getting used to when it comes to Callie.

Six weeks ago, I would’ve stiffened at this public display.

Now, I find myself stroking her hair, not giving a damn who sees it.

Though I try to ignore the raised brow of my brother and the beaming smile from his wife.

We haven’t exactly been open about what’s been going on between us over the last few weeks.

Another step in this relationship I feel like we missed.

Or maybe I’m reading too far into it? None of my family has seen us together.

Not even Rhett, who’s stopped asking altogether when he does come around to check in.

We give our goodbyes and I lead Callie to the truck, helping her into the front seat. I soak in the crisp morning air. In a few hours, we’ll be in her world instead of mine. A world she fears .

The thought sends an unexpected ripple of tension through my shoulders.

“Hey, Beau,” Duke shouts, jogging toward me.

I close Callie’s door and turn to him. “Yeah?”

He pants with a grin. “I wanted to, uh, make sure you knew you have a plus one for the wedding next month.”

Right. The double wedding. The thought of Callie at my side during an important family event hits differently than I expected. It feels right. I lock the topic away for later.

“Good to know,” I say, starting to walk around to the driver’s side. I hop in and back out, glaring at my brother and his shit eatin’ grin as he waves before backpedaling to the house.

The ride to the airport on the other side of town is silent aside from Callie’s occasional sniffle.

“How you holding up over there?” I ask, glancing between her and the road. In the distance, I can see the airport—a tiny building compared to what we’ll land at in Los Angeles. I’ve been to some big cities during my service, but never to play bodyguard for someone I’m falling for.

Falling for? Ah, fuck.

“I’m okay,” she says quietly. “And before you say it, I know he’s in good hands.”

I bark a laugh. “As long as you already know.”

She smiles—the first one I’ve seen from her in days. It eases something in me I didn’t realize was wound tight.

I pull into the long-term airport parking lot, a gravel patch with painted lines.

The terminal is a single-story building in the middle of a wide stretch of pavement.

A few small commuter planes sit on the tarmac, and I mentally prep myself for the cramped seats and knee pain when Callie points to the far end of the runway.

“We need to go there,” she says, gesturing toward a sleek white jet sitting by itself.

I slow the truck to a stop. “Where?”

“That’s our plane.” Her voice is casual, like she’s commenting on the weather.

I squint at the private jet gleaming in the morning sun. “That’s…not a commercial flight,” I say, confused.

“No,” she agrees, a hint of amusement creeping into her voice. Her eyes are still red-rimmed but now containing a spark of mischief. “Did I forget to mention that part?”

“You might have left out a detail or two,” I mutter, putting the truck back in drive and following her directions toward the separate entrance and parking area.

As we pull up, a man in a crisp uniform approaches.

I park where he indicates and step out, on alert.

This is the first time Callie and I have been out together, just the two of us.

I need to make sure she knows she can count on me the same way she counts on Hulk on any given day. And that starts now .

Callie slides out, and the man’s professional demeanor breaks into a wide smile. “Miss Ryan,” he greets her warmly. “It’s wonderful to see you again.”

“You, too, Marcus,” she replies, accepting his brief hug. “This is Beau,” she adds, gesturing to me. “He’s with me. Hulk is on leave for this trip.”

Marcus extends his hand. “Pleasure to meet you, sir. I’ll take care of your bags.”

I shake his hand, then help him unload our luggage from the truck bed. Callie takes her carry-on and waits for me, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

“You fly private a lot?” I ask as we follow Marcus toward the jet.

She shrugs. “The studio arranges it for premieres and press tours. Less hassle, no paparazzi at commercial terminals. And they respect that I usually have Hulk with me.”

“Right.”

The amusement in her eyes grows. “You look a little shell-shocked.”

I scoff. “Just trying to figure out how different the next few weeks are going to be.”

That earns me a genuine laugh. She loops her arm through mine. “Don’t worry. I don’t expect you to keep up with Hollywood appearances or expenses. But fair warning, my designer has several outfits and suits for you to try when we arrive.”

“Noted,” I say, mentally recalibrating what the next two weeks might look like.

We approach the aircraft where a small set of stairs has been extended to the ground. At the top stands a woman in a navy uniform, her blonde hair pulled back in a neat bun. “Good morning, Miss Ryan,” she says with a professional smile. “Welcome aboard.”

“Thanks, Brittany,” Callie replies. “This is Beau. He’s a bit new to all this.”

Brittany nods to me. “First time on a private jet, Mr…?”

“Montgomery,” I say. “And yeah, usually I’m wedged between two guys about my size in military transport.”

“Well, I think you’ll find this much more comfortable,” Brittany says with a wink. “Please, come aboard.”

I let Callie go first, my hand finding the small of her back as she climbs the stairs. The interior of the jet is nothing like I expected—all cream leather seats and polished wood. It’s more like a living room than an aircraft.

“Drinks after takeoff?” Brittany asks.

“Coffee would be great,” Callie responds, settling into one of the plush seats. She looks at me still standing and taking it all in. “Beau?”

“Coffee,” I echo, finally lowering myself into the seat beside her. “Black.”

As Brittany moves toward the galley, I lean in close to Callie. “Anything else you forgot to mention?”

She bites her lip. “I may have downplayed things a bit.”

“A bit,” I repeat, raising a brow at the luxury surrounding us.

The pilot emerges from the cockpit. “Miss Ryan, good to see you. We’re cleared for takeoff in about ten minutes.”

“Thanks, Tim,” she says. “This is Beau.”

We exchange nods, and Tim returns to the cockpit. Brittany secures the door, and the engines begin to hum.

“No safety demonstration?” I ask.

Callie shakes her head. “Not necessary. Basically, don’t unbuckle when the light is on, and if we crash, those are the emergency exits,” she points toward two doors.

“Comforting,” I mutter.

She takes my hand, her earlier sadness momentarily replaced by gentle teasing. “Don’t tell me the big, bad ex-military man is afraid of flying?”

“Not afraid,” I correct her. “Just prefer having a parachute when I’m this high up.”

She squeezes my hand. “You’ve jumped out of planes?”

“That’s classified,” I say with a straight face, then crack a smile when her eyes widen. “Yes, many times.”

The jet begins to taxi, and her grip tightens slightly. For all her casual familiarity with this world, there’s a subtle tension in her shoulders as we accelerate down the runway. “Nervous?”

She gives me a half-smile. “Not about flying. Just…everything else.”

I slide my hand over her thigh and squeeze. “That’s what I’m here for.”

She slides her arm around mine and leans her head against my shoulder as the jet lifts smoothly into the air. “Is that all you are?”

The question hangs between us, loaded with everything we haven’t formally defined. “No,” I say simply, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “That’s not all I am, sweetheart.”