Page 22 of Backed By You (Montgomery Brothers of Montana #3)

Callie

“Shea is picking us up. We’ll probably grab lunch before she takes us to the hotel,” I tell Beau when the plane touches down in California. It’s a little after eleven and I’m starving. “She’s my best friend, so be nice.”

He gives me a scowly look. “I am nice.”

I snort a laugh and pat his hand still on my thigh. It hasn’t moved an inch the entire flight. “When meeting new people? Sure, you are, sweetie.”

He huffs.

“I also texted you our itinerary for tomorrow,” I say. “Today is more of a down day. Get settled in, outfit prep, relax before the crazy.”

“How crazy are we talking?” he asks, unbuckling his seatbelt as the plane taxies to a stop.

“Scale of one to ten?” I consider. “Tomorrow’s probably a six. Premiere night will be a solid ten for me.”

He nods once, processing. “And what exactly happens at a premiere?”

“Red carpet, photographers, interviews, watching the film, after-party.” I count off on my fingers. “Standard Hollywood stuff.”

“Right.”

I press a kiss to his jaw, loving the slight stubble against my lips. “You’ll be perfect. The camera is going to love you,” I say, trying to lighten the mood.

Beau tends to be hard to read at times, and I’m battling to decipher if he’s nervous or simply taking this trip very, very seriously.

“I’m not here to be loved,” he reminds me, but his expression softens. “I’m here for you.”

Same thing , I want to say, but bite my tongue.

Brittany appears to inform us that we can disembark. Beau stands, stretching his long frame in the confined space, his movement favoring his left, a subtle reminder of his knee injury. I make a mental note to ask him about it later.

He offers me his hand—a small gesture that anchors me as we step off the plane into the California sunshine.

The private terminal at LAX is designed for discretion, but I still scan the area out of habit, looking for unwanted cameras or faces.

Instead, I spot Shea waving enthusiastically from beside a sleek black SUV.

“There she is,” I say, squeezing Beau’s hand.

Shea bounces toward us, designer sunglasses perched on top of her head, pushing back her voluminous curls. She’s wearing what passes for casual in LA—crisp white linen pants and a silky blue top.

“Cals!” she squeals, throwing her arms around me. “Finally! I thought Montana might have permanently claimed you.”

Dramatic as always .

I hug her back tightly, realizing how much I’ve missed her. “Not yet,” I laugh.

She pulls back, holding me at arm’s length. “You look…different.” Her perfectly shaped brows lift as she takes me in. Her gaze shifts to Beau standing behind me. “And this must be the reason why.”

I turn to Beau, whose expression has settled into what I’ve come to think of as his public face : guarded and far too serious. “Shea, this is Beau Montgomery. Beau, this is my best friend, Shea Winton.”

Beau takes her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Shea’s eyes widen slightly at the sound of his deep voice, and I recognize the approving once-over she gives him.

“You, too. Welcome to LA. I hope you’re ready for the Hollywood experience.

” She links her arm through mine, leading us toward the SUV.

“I made us reservations at Ivy by the Shore. I figured you’d want something with outdoor seating after being cooped up in Montana. ”

“I wasn’t cooped up,” I protest with a roll of my eyes. “Montana has more open space than all of California.”

“Yes, but does it have proper sushi?” Shea counters.

I glance back at Beau—his gaze trained on me.

The driver takes our bags and loads them into the trunk while we slide into the backseat, Shea sitting across from us in the custom SUV. “So, Beau,” she says once we’re settled. “Callie tells me the third cabin project is coming along. Still on track to finish before winter?”

Beau nods. “Structure is done. Interior work is what takes time.”

“I’d love to see pictures,” Shea says with genuine interest. “I’ve been thinking about branching out more into interior design. Fashion’s been…” she waves her hand vaguely, “feeling a bit stale lately.”

“Really?” I ask, surprised. In all of our phone conversations and text chains, she hasn’t once mentioned interior design as anything more than a hobby or consulting for her father’s hotels. “You’re one of the most successful designers in LA, though.”

She sighs. “That’s the problem. I’ve been playing it safe. Staying in my lane. What I really want to do is flip a house—something with character that I can completely transform. Blend fashion sensibility with architectural elements.”

I smile at the enthusiasm in her tone. “You do love a good House Flipper episode.”

Shea laughs. “I do.”

“You should talk to Rhett,” Beau suggests unexpectedly. “My brother. He’s been big on renovations lately. Fixing up a lot of the older homes in Whitetail. He owns a construction company with our younger brother, Levi.”

Shea’s eyes light up. “I’d love that. Maybe I should visit this small town of yours.”

“You’d hate it,” I tease. “The closest mall is an hour away.”

“I can rough it,” she insists with a smile that suggests otherwise. “For research purposes.”

As the car navigates through LA traffic, Shea updates me on industry gossip and fills Beau in on what to expect over the next few weeks—where to stand, who to watch out for, which reporters to avoid.

“The good news is, most of them will respect the security angle,” she tells him. “They’re used to celebrities bringing personal protection. Just look stern and professional, and they’ll leave you alone.”

“That’s his default setting,” I say, earning a side-eye from Beau.

I watch him take in the unfamiliar landscape of palm trees and sprawling mansions. This is my world, not his, and I’m dying to hear his thoughts.

The car pulls up to the restaurant, a breezy beachside place with white trellises covered in climbing flowers. When we exit the vehicle, Beau scans the surroundings, his gaze tracking the people nearby.

“This place is known for being paparazzi-free. That’s why Shea picked it,” I tell him quietly as a thought comes to me. “Have you had sushi before?”

He looks down at me and smirks. “For you, I’ll try it.”

I bite my lip to keep from smiling too big. His hand settles protectively at the small of my back as we follow the host to our table on the terrace overlooking the Pacific Ocean.

“So,” Shea says as we take our seats, “tell me more about this cabin. What’s your vision for the interior?” She directs this at Beau, and I can tell it’s a deliberate choice to engage with him—and I love her for it.

As Beau begins describing the open-concept living space and stone fireplace he’s planning, I watch Shea’s genuine interest in his answers, the way she asks follow-up questions about materials and light exposure.

They continue talking and I feel a strange collision of my worlds—the Hollywood life I’ve been avoiding and the Montana sanctuary I’ve created.

Somehow, watching my best friend and Beau connect over renovation challenges, those worlds don’t seem quite so separate anymore.

For the first time in months, I’m not sure which one feels more like home. Or maybe it isn’t about the place at all…

Because the man beside me somehow bridges both.