Page 24 of Backed By You (Montgomery Brothers of Montana #3)

Beau

Callie twists her hands together in her lap, her eyes closed as the makeup artist does her thing.

I lean against the wall of the green room, arms crossed, watching the controlled chaos unfold around her. Six people hover in her orbit—makeup artist, hair stylist, wardrobe assistant, the production assistant, Ellen, and someone who keeps offering water no one asked for.

“Five minutes,” Ellen announces, her attention split between her tablet and Callie. She’s exactly what I expected—efficient, polished, mentally juggling seventeen tasks at once. “They’re getting Jack mic’d up now.”

I’ve been briefed on Jack Turner—lead actor, up-and-coming Hollywood golden boy, three blockbusters in the last year alone. The way Ellen said his name, slightly hushed like it might summon him, tells me everything I need to know.

“And we’re absolutely not discussing the Vanity Fair piece,” Ellen continues, scrolling through her tablet. “I’ve made that clear to Monica, but if she tries to pivot there, just redirect to the film’s themes.”

Callie nods slightly, careful not to disturb the makeup brush sweeping across her cheekbones. “What about the screenplay nomination rumors?”

“Fair game, but downplay expectations. ‘Too early to speculate’ is your line.”

My phone buzzes with a text from Duke—a video of Hulk playing with Olivia. I move closer to Callie, showing her the screen. Her entire face transforms, tension melting away as she watches the clip of her dog gently playing tug-of-war with the little girl.

“Aw,” she coos softly.

Ellen clears her throat. “Two minutes, Callie. Let’s go over the talking points for the creative process questions one more time.”

I step back, tucking my phone in my pocket and resuming my position against the wall as Ellen rapid-fires potential questions and Callie’s suggested responses.

It’s like watching someone prepare for combat, but with words instead of weapons.

The door swings open without a knock. A man strides in—tall, tan, the kind of teeth that can’t possibly be real. Jack Turner.

“Callie,” he exclaims, arms spread wide as if he expects her to leap into his arms. I already don’t like him. “The genius herself! Ready to make horror movie history?”

Callie stands, a professional smile replacing her genuine one from moments ago. “Jack, hi—” Before she can finish, he’s embracing her, lifting her slightly off the ground in a bear hug that lasts several seconds too long by my estimation.

When he sets her down, his hands linger on her waist.

My jaw ticks.

“You look amazing,” he says, gaze scanning her appreciatively. “As always.” He winks.

Definitely don’t like him.

“Thank you,” she says, taking a subtle step back.

Jack’s gaze finally registers my presence. His brows lift slightly, assessing me as I am him.

“Oh, Jack, this is Beau. He’s my—”

“So listen, I was thinking after this wraps, we should grab dinner, catch up properly. It’s been what, six months? I’ve missed our little chats,” he says, his attention solely on her. I note how his hand has somehow found its way to the small of Callie’s back.

The makeup artist returns, forcing Jack to step back as she applies a final touch to Callie’s lips. I catch my girl’s eye in the mirror, a silent communication passing between us.

Boyfriend .

That’s what she wanted to announce to Jack.

“Actually, I have plans tonight,” she says coolly. “But I’ll see you at the premiere.”

“Places, everyone!” a production assistant calls from the doorway.

Jack leans in, his lips brushing Callie’s ear as he whispers something that makes her smile tighten. As they walk toward the door, his hand drifts lower than appropriate on her back for a split second before she casually shifts away.

I fight not to force my way between them and stay back a reasonable distance.

Ellen falls into step beside me as we follow them. “You’re doing great,” she says quietly. “Just remember—”

“Stay out of the shot, maintain sight lines, no visible reactions,” I recite. “I got it.”

She gives me an appraising look. “Good.”

We enter the interview set—a minimal arrangement of modern chairs against a backdrop featuring the film’s poster. Monica, the interviewer, is already seated, reviewing notes. Callie and Jack are directed to their marks, positioning them closer together than I would deem necessary.

I take my position off-camera within Callie’s line of sight. From here, I can watch without being watched, which suits me fine.

“And we’re rolling in three, two…” The producer points silently, and Monica’s professional smile activates.

“I’m here today with writer and director Callie Ryan and star Jack Turner of the highly anticipated thriller and trilogy finale, The Devil’s Lake: Final Descent , in theaters this Friday. Callie, Jack, thank you both for being here.”

The interview starts smoothly enough—questions about the film’s development, Jack’s preparation for his role, Callie’s vision as creator and director.

Callie transforms before my eyes, becoming more animated, more confident as she discusses her work.

This is her element, and despite my general distaste for the Hollywood machine, I can’t help but admire the joy on her face at this moment.

“Now, Callie,” Monica pivots after about ten minutes, “your move to Montana earlier this year sparked quite a bit of industry speculation. Some suggested it was a creative retreat, others wondered if you were stepping back from directing altogether. Can you tell us what prompted the change?”

Callie’s smile doesn’t falter, but her hands tighten in her lap. “I needed a change of perspective to really see clearly. Montana offered me space to focus on what matters in my work.”

“And what a focused creator she is,” Jack interjects, placing his hand on Callie’s knee. She flinches and I quell the urge to move. My fists ball at my sides. “The character development in this final act is what really sold me on the project.”

Monica’s eyes track the gesture, a slight smile playing at her lips. “Speaking of selling points, there have been rumors circulating about a special chemistry between the two of you during filming. Any truth to the whispers?”

Jack laughs, his hand still on Callie’s knee. “Callie’s brilliant, beautiful, and completely intimidating as a director. Any actor would be lucky to work with her—or be with her.”

Callie shifts subtly, dislodging his hand. “Jack and I have a wonderful professional relationship,” she says smoothly.

“Just professional?” Monica presses. “Because there were some rather cozy photos from the wrap party that suggested otherwise.”

My jaw tightens, though I maintain my neutral expression. This wasn’t on Ellen’s approved question list, given the way she’s suddenly alert standing beside me.

“Photos can be misleading,” Callie says with a light laugh. “Especially when taken out of context at the end of an emotionally charged production period. Jack and I are colleagues and friends, nothing more.”

“Not for lack of trying on my part,” Jack adds with a wink that sets my teeth on edge.

Monica turns toward the camera. “You heard it here first, folks—officially just friends, but the door seems at least slightly ajar.” The host chuckles.

“I have a boyfriend,” Callie blurts, taking control of the rumor even now being spread. Her cheeks flush ever so slightly beneath her makeup.

My pulse jumps.

Monica’s eyes widen with delight, her posture shifting forward like a predator sensing weakness. “Well, this is breaking news! The notoriously private Callie Ryan has a boyfriend.” She turns to Jack, whose smile has frozen in place. “Jack, did you know about this development?”

The camera pans to capture his reaction, and I can practically see the calculations happening behind his eyes. Attempting to appear supportive while salvaging his ego.

“This is the first I’m hearing of it,” Jack says with practiced charm that doesn’t match his posture. “Whoever he is, he’s a lucky man.”

Damn right I am .

Monica swivels back to Callie, not about to let this unexpected gold mine slip away. “So, tell us about this mystery man. Is he in the industry? How did you meet? And most importantly—will we be seeing him on the red carpet at the premiere?”

Ellen frantically makes a cutting motion off-camera, trying to redirect the interview to safer territory. But Monica isn’t about to be deterred.

Callie recovers quickly, professional mask sliding back into place.

“He’ll be with me at the premiere, yes,” she says.

“But I’d really prefer to keep my personal life private.

What I can tell you is that he’s been incredibly supportive of my work and has seen every minute of film I’ve ever produced. ”

“A supportive partner is so important in this industry,” Monica agrees, clearly not finished. “And where did you two meet? Was it on set?”

“Actually, we met in Montana,” Callie offers, deciding to give just enough to satisfy the bloodthirsty host without revealing too much. “He’s from there.”

“Montana!” Monica’s perfectly shaped eyebrows rise. “So not industry at all. How refreshing.”

Multiple pairs of eyes flick to me momentarily before returning to the interview. My face remains impassive, though I’m hyperaware of every muscle in my body, every slam of my heart against my ribcage.

She’s telling the whole world that she’s taken—that she’s mine .

Callie’s smile is stunning. “It really is. He’s amazing.”

Jack shifts in his seat, his body language betraying his discomfort at being sidelined.

“Well, we can’t wait to meet him,” Monica says, finally pivoting. “Now, speaking of building beautiful things, let’s talk about the world-building you set in the first film, The Devil’s Lake: Beneath the Surface …”

The interview continues for another five minutes, but the energy has shifted. Jack makes valiant attempts to reclaim the spotlight, but there’s a new dynamic at play. Callie answers questions about the film with renewed confidence, while Monica occasionally glances toward me with curiosity.

When the producer finally calls, “That’s a wrap, folks!” Callie’s shoulders relax.

“Thank you both so much,” Monica says, removing her microphone. Off-camera, her demeanor softens into something more genuine. “Seriously, Callie, I can’t wait to see the film. The early buzz is phenomenal.”

“Thanks, Monica,” she says, standing and handing her mic to a waiting technician.

Jack rises beside her, leaning in close as I approach. “Boyfriend, huh? You could have mentioned that earlier,” he says, voice low but audible enough.

“It didn’t seem relevant to the interview,” Callie replies coolly.

“Everything’s relevant in these situations,” he counters. “Makes me look like an ass.”

Monica, pretending not to eavesdrop while absorbing every word, chooses this moment to extend her hand to me, now standing beside Callie. “I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced. Monica Chen.”

“Beau Montgomery,” I reply, taking her hand briefly.

“Bodyguard, right?” Her eyes are shrewd, assessing. “Or…more than security?”

Before I can respond, Ellen materializes between us. “I’m so sorry to interrupt, but we’re on a very tight schedule. Callie, we need to move to the next appointment.”

“Of course,” Callie says, moving smoothly to my side. “Monica, Jack, thank you both.”

Ellen efficiently leads us toward the exit, creating a buffer between Callie and any further questions. It’s only when we’re safely in the hallway, doors closed behind us, that Ellen lets out a long breath. “Well, that wasn’t in the talking points.”

“I’m sorry,” Callie says, glancing between her assistant and me. “It just came out.”

“Don’t apologize,” Ellen says. “It was authentic, and it completely redirected the Jack narrative that you’ve been trying to get away from for years . ‘Reclusive director finds love in Montana’ is a much better headline than recycled on-set romance rumors.”

Callie looks at me, uncertainty in her eyes. “Are you okay with this? I didn’t mean to put you in the spotlight.”

I consider my answer carefully, aware of Ellen pretending to check her tablet while listening. “It’s not my world,” I admit. “But you are.”

The tension in Callie’s expression dissolves into a small, intimate smile.

Ellen clears her throat. “If you two are done being adorable, we do have a fitting to get to.”

As we walk down the hallway, Callie’s hand stays firmly in mine. I’m hyperaware of the curious glances from staff and guests. In Montana, she’s just Callie, the new girl in town renting a cabin on the mountain. Here, she’s someone people recognize, someone they whisper about as we pass.

Outside in the California sunshine, I realize something. I may hate the cameras, the invasive questions, the Jack Turners of this world with their easy smiles and wandering hands—but Callie?

I love her.