Page 26 of Backed By You (Montgomery Brothers of Montana #3)

Beau

I step into the private elevator alongside Callie’s father. He presses the button for the lobby and our descent begins. I assume this is about the interview and my relationship with his daughter, but I’m not worried. Though, I wouldn’t doubt if he wants me to be.

The silence stretches between us, neither of us speaking as the floors tick by. I’ve faced far worse overseas and survived a bullet to the knee. One protective father isn’t going to rattle me, even if he is a cop.

“Bar’s this way,” he says as we exit into the marble-floored lobby.

He moves with the same alertness I recognize from men who’ve spent their lives assessing threats.

I follow him through the lobby to a dimly lit bar with leather chairs and dark wood.

It’s early enough that the place is nearly empty.

We take a seat at a corner table, both of us instinctively positioning ourselves to see the entrance.

A server appears, and Matt orders a scotch, neat. I ask for the same.

“Been a while since we met in Montana,” he says once the server leaves. “Few weeks?”

“Three.”

He nods, studying me. “So, things have changed.”

It’s not a question, but I answer anyway. “Yes, sir.”

“When?”

“About three weeks ago,” I say, deciding honesty is the only appropriate approach.

His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t seem surprised. “You know,” he says, setting his glass down, “when Callie moved to Montana, I thought she was running away. Hiding from her success and everything that transpired because of it.”

I recognize his technique—sharing something to get me to share more. Fortunately for him, he’s also not wrong. “She was,” I acknowledge. “At first.”

“And now?”

“She’s found her footing.” I take a drink, the scotch burning down my throat. Part of me realizes he should be having this conversation with his daughter, but I humor him anyway. “She never stopped working—editing, writing. Montana gave her the space to do it without the pressure.”

Matt studies me over his glass. “You know about what happened before? The reason she left LA?”

“Yes.” I don’t elaborate. I know enough to know her fear is warranted and that he’s the reason she has Hulk in the first place. To be everywhere he couldn’t be. Now, I’m here instead of Hulk.

“And that interview yesterday? Calling you her boyfriend on national television?”

There it is. “That wasn’t planned.”

He leans back in his chair. “My daughter doesn’t do impulsive.”

“She’s still careful,” I assure him. “Just not afraid anymore.”

My words land differently than I expect.

His expression softens minutely, something like relief flickering across his features before his stonewalled expression returns.

“I looked you up,” he says, changing tactics.

“Army Special Forces. Two tours. Honorable discharge after taking a bullet in Afghanistan.”

I nod, unsurprised. I’d have done the same in his position.

“What are your intentions with my daughter, Montgomery?”

The directness of the question catches me on guard, and I appreciate it. No point dancing around what he really wants to know. “I care about her,” I say. “I want her safe and happy. The rest is up to her.”

“That’s a politician’s answer.”

I meet his gaze. Firm and unwavering. “It’s the truth.”

Matthew’s eyes narrow, assessing. “You’re in love with her.”

It’s not a question, but my heart still kicks against my ribs at hearing someone else say it aloud.

I haven’t said those words to Callie, but fuck, do I feel them.

The last few days here with her have been the highlight of my year.

She drowns out everything that’s changed.

Everything I thought I’d lost—my career, my future.

She’s taken the hardest time in my life and made it into something worth waking up for. Her.

“Yes,” I admit.

“And does she know that?”

I take another sip of my drink. “Not yet.”

He huffs, his gaze suspicious. He leans forward, all pretense of casual conversation gone.

“Let me be clear, Montgomery. Callie is all I have in this world. After her mother died, it was us against the world. It has always been us . She’s dealt with enough shit already—the stalking, the threats, the industry assholes who continue to try to use her or control her.

I won’t stand by and watch her get hurt again. ”

“With all due respect, sir,” I say, keeping my voice even. “I’m not in the business of hurting people I love.”

“No one ever is until they do.” His eyes are hard, but there’s something vulnerable behind them—the worry of a father who’s seen his daughter hurt one too many times.

“This industry she’s in, the spotlight; it changes people.

Adds pressure. I’ve seen it destroy stronger couples than a three-week fling. ”

My jaw tightens. If he’s trying to push me for a reaction, he’s getting damn close. “This isn’t a fling.”

“Prove it,” he challenges.

“I don’t have to prove anything to you,” I snap, willing myself to dial it back a peg. Or two. I need to remember this is my girl’s father . “Only to Callie. And I do that every day by being there for her, respecting her, and having her back.”

Matt stares at me for a long moment, then does something unexpected—he smiles. It’s small, but genuine. “Good answer,” he says, raising his glass in my direction. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”

I feel like I just passed some test I didn’t know I was taking. “So that’s what this was then, a test?”

“More or less.” He finishes his scotch. “Had to be sure you weren’t just along for the ride on her success. Or worse, another controlling prick who thinks he knows what’s best for her.”

“I’m neither.” Though my gripe on hiking apparel does come to mind.

“I believe you.” He signals the server for another round. “Now, tell me more about this cabin you’re building. Callie sends pictures, but she’s not great with the technical details.”

The abrupt shift in conversation throws me for a moment, but I go with it, describing the progress on the cabin, the design elements, and the timeline for completion. Matthew listens with genuine interest, asking questions that show he knows more about construction than I would have guessed.

As our second drinks arrive, he says, “You know, her mother would have liked you.”

“Callie doesn’t talk about her much.”

“No, she wouldn’t.” He stares down at his glass. “Callie was just a baby when she died. Car accident. Drunk driver hit her head-on coming home from the grocery store.” He takes a breath. “I wasn’t great at talking about her afterward.”

I’m not sure why he’s telling me this, but I listen, recognizing the importance of what he’s sharing as well as this chat for him.

He clears his throat and checks his watch. Appearing as though the direction of the conversation has taken him somewhere he doesn’t like being. “I should head out.”

We finish our drinks and Matthew’s demeanor shifts, becoming less interrogator and more of a father concerned for his daughter. “One more thing,” he says as we stand to leave. “That Jack Turner guy—”

“Won’t be a problem,” I say, and damn sure mean it.

A flash of understanding passes between us. “Good.” He extends his hand. “You have my blessing. Take care of her, Montgomery.”

The double meaning in his strategically chosen words isn’t lost on me.

I shake his hand firmly. “I will.”

The sun hangs low over the Pacific, painting the sky in shades I never see in Montana—vibrant oranges blending into pinks against a backdrop of pale blue.

It’s different from our sunsets back home, where the mountains catch the last light in sharp, dramatic silhouettes, and the colors are deeper, more saturated against the vast open sky.

Here, the horizon is a straight line where ocean meets atmosphere, endless and somehow more expansive and confined than the mountain ranges I’m used to. The air feels different, too—heavy with salt and moisture instead of crisp pine and fresh air.

Callie walks beside me, her sandals dangling from one hand, a frozen yogurt cup in the other. After the meeting with her father and an afternoon of final preparations for tomorrow’s premiere, she suggested we go for a walk with a smile that made it impossible to say no to her.

She led the way to a small stretch of beach accessed through a narrow path between two private properties. “It’s my old film professor’s house,” she explained as we squeezed through. “He lets former students use his beach access. Much quieter than the public beaches.”

Apart from a couple walking a dog in the distance, we have the shore to ourselves. The sand is still warm beneath my bare feet despite the setting sun, and the gentle rhythm of waves provides a soothing soundtrack. It’s a sound one could get used to.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Callie asks, spooning the last of her strawberry frozen yogurt into her mouth.

“Noting the differences,” I reply, finishing my vanilla yogurt with a swirl of caramel. “Between here and home.”

Her eyes soften at the word home . “Good or bad?” she asks, tossing her empty cup into a nearby trash can.

“Just different,” I say, disposing of mine as well. “The sunset here is…soft. Back home, it’s sharper, more defined by the mountains.”

She nods, understanding what I’m trying to say better than I do myself. “I miss that clarity sometimes. Everything here has a haze to it—the air, the light, even the conversations.”

We walk in comfortable silence for a while, close enough that our arms brush occasionally. The receding tide has left the sand wet and firm, easier to walk on than the loose, dry sand higher up.

“How was your talk with my dad?” she finally asks, the question I’ve been expecting since we left the hotel.

“Good,” I grunt. “He’s protective of you.”

She rolls her eyes. “Did he threaten you?”

“Didn’t have to.” I smile to show I’m not bothered. “He cares about you. I respect that.”

“What did you talk about?”

“You, mostly.” I take her hand as we navigate around a piece of driftwood. “The cabin. Your mom a little bit.”

She stares at me in surprise. “He talked about my mom?”

“Said she would have liked me,” I tell her, watching her reaction. “Said you’re a lot like her.”

Her eyes grow misty, and she looks toward the ocean. “He never says that.”

I squeeze her hand gently. “He also made it clear that if I hurt you, they’ll never find my body.”

That gets a laugh from her. “And what did you tell him?”

“That I have no intention of hurting you.” I pause, wondering if this is the moment. It feels right, with the sunset casting golden light across her face, the waves providing a steady rhythm that no longer matches my heartbeat. “Ever.”

She stops walking and faces me, her expression open and curious. “You sound pretty sure about that.”

“I am.” I tuck a wild, honey-colored curl behind her ear, marveling at how the sunset makes her skin glow. “More sure than I’ve been about anything in a long time.”

Her breath catches. “Beau…”

“I love you, Callie,” I say, voice low. My chest expands at how natural it feels to be telling her how I feel.

Emotions, feelings— the whole lot of it is something I never saw the appeal in.

Though I can’t say I’ve felt this way about anyone before.

She’s the first woman I’ve said those three words to.

“I know it hasn’t been long, but it’s the truth. ”

For a moment, she just stares at me, and I wonder if I’ve miscalculated, moved too fast.

Her face breaks into the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen. “I love you, too,” she whispers, rising on her tiptoes to press her lips to mine.

The kiss is soft, tender, tasting of strawberries and salt. When we part, her eyes are shining. I hold her close and keep her there against my chest, breathing in the scent of her mixed with ocean air. Beside us, the sun continues its descent, casting our shadows across the sand.

“Can I ask you a personal question?” she mumbles into me, her face turned to the setting sun.

I hum, my gaze cast over her head at the very same view. I place a kiss in her hair. “Shoot.”

“Do you think you’re the same person?” she asks softly. “You know, before you left.”

The question is vague, but I know what she’s asking without the details. Am I the same person I was before I left for the military? “There are plenty of men, women, who feel they come back different. That they’ve changed somehow.”

She nods, listening.

“I never felt that,” I confess, my arms tightening around her at the admission. “And either I’m lucky or…cold.”

She peers up at me finally, her expression soft. “You’re not cold.”

The last time I saw Rhett flashes in my mind. How hard he was trying to talk to me and how hard I fought back to keep everyone at arm’s length—or farther. “My family would disagree.”

Her brow furrows, an edge of adorable defiance I’ve seen more than once in her eyes. “Then they don’t know you like I do.”

I huff a laugh. “Only you, sweetheart.”

We head back, our footprints leaving parallel trails in the damp sand. The sun hangs low now, casting long shadows ahead of us as we walk toward the narrow path.

“Tell me something about Montana,” she says, slipping her hand in mine as we walk. “What’s your favorite thing about it?”

I think for a moment. My favorite thing .

“There’s this moment, just before sunrise, when the mountains are still dark, but the sky is beginning to lighten.

Everything is perfectly still—no wind, no sound.

It’s like the whole world is holding its breath.

Then, when the first light hits the highest peaks, it’s like watching the earth wake up one ridge at a time. ”

“That’s beautiful.” She peers up at me, beaming. “You should write that down.”

I chuckle. “Nah. That’s your department.”

She smiles, and we pause where the beach narrows, the water now painting ribbons of gold and crimson across the surface as we watch the last sliver of sun disappear below the horizon. Tomorrow will bring chaos—cameras and questions, politics and public scrutiny.

But right now, it’s just us, the beach, and a few words that have changed everything.

I pull her close, and she comes willingly, fitting against me perfectly. As darkness settles over the beach, I hold tight to the woman who crashed into my carefully constructed solitude and turned it into something infinitely better—a life built for two.