Page 6 of Backed By You (Montgomery Brothers of Montana #3)

Callie

“Try the sheer bodice one next,” my best friend, Shea, calls from outside her closet in her ocean-side condo here in Long Beach.

“I wore red last time, though,” I say, eyeing the five dress options she has me choosing from today.

I’m on the hunt for a dress for the upcoming premiere of the final chapter in my Devil’s Lake movie trilogy.

And whenever I need to dress for the red carpet, Shea is my go-to and well worth a trip back to California.

We met in college. She went for fashion and design while I was studying film and photography.

We ran into each other one day on campus during the first week of classes.

She complimented my flats while complaining about her heels killing her feet.

We swapped shoes—which we laugh about now as being gross and far too trustworthy—and the rest was history.

Ten years later, her opinion is still the only one I’ve ever taken to heart.

She’s the reason I moved from sunny Los Angeles to a little remote cabin in the mountains of Whitetail.

It was her idea, given her father owns the infamous Winton’s Resort on the other side of the small town.

She knew I needed the break. I wasn’t in the right headspace to be making any major decisions on my own. And I trust her.

Something that doesn’t come easily for me.

Shea pops her head around the corner, her bouncy ringlet curls framing her face and complementing her rich, brown complexion. “And you looked hot as hell,” she retorts. “So stop whining and try it on.”

I groan sarcastically, earning a laugh from her as she slips into her bedroom to await another failed model walk by yours truly.

“I was thinking something more dramatic this time,” I say, running my fingers along the fabric of the sheer red gown with subtle silver threading.

“Something that says ‘final chapter’ without being too on-the-nose about it.”

Shea hums from the other room. “Well, you know I love dramatic looks. And you have poured fifteen years of your life into this trilogy.”

Has it been that long?

I started writing short horror films for YouTube with some friends in high school—none of them took it as seriously as I did.

From there, my little hobby grew and never stopped.

It wasn’t until I was in college that the short films began to take off.

I got recognized by one of my professors, who then introduced me to some huge-name producers in the horror genre.

One day, I was showing them my latest screenplay with safety pins holding my purse together, and the next…I’m cashing checks worth millions.

I shimmy into the dress, having to hold the strapless breast cups to my chest as I shuffle out of the closet. I smile at the sight of Shea sitting on the edge of her bed to pet Hulk sleeping soundly on the bulk of it. “Zip assist, please.”

“Oooh.” Shea whistles when I offer my back to her so she can secure the dress. “Your body in this dress is stunning, Cals. Seriously.”

I step toward her floor-to-ceiling mirror in the corner of the room and take in the full-length gown.

It has a true mermaid style fit to it and complements my figure in more ways than one.

I turn to the side and inspect the back.

“I don’t love the silver accents or the red, but this shape is perfect. ”

“Pause!” Shea leaps to her feet, scurrying to the closet before emerging with a similar vibe to the current dress I’m wearing.

A sheer corseted, mermaid sequined gown, exquisite beads and crystals with a high slit design in a dusty pink.

“What about this one? It has that rich, haunting vibe that matches the Devil’s aesthetic. ”

I can’t help but smile. This is why I love Shea.

She doesn’t just see clothes; she sees stories, moods, statements.

While I was at my writing desk trying to capture the mysterious waters of Devil’s Lake that made the trilogy such a hit, she was building her reputation as one of the most intuitive stylists in the industry.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.” I hurry past her, taking the dress as I do.

“Probably show up in sweats and a tank top,” she teases.

I laugh, changing into the new dress that is much easier to get into by myself and has thin spaghetti straps.

It needs to be taken in a smidge at the waist, but Shea will have it ready for me before the premiere in six weeks.

“No nip slips this year, I’m afraid,” I say as I walk out of the closet and head for the mirror.

“Oh god. Remember your first premiere?” A nostalgic smile plays on her lips as she laughs. “You were so nervous. I thought you were going to flash the cameras on purpose just to get it over with.”

I snort. “I’m shocked that dress didn’t do it for me.” I turn several times and test sitting before announcing, “This is it. I love it, Shea. You hit it out of the park once again.”

My best friend squeals, waking Hulk with a start. “Sorry, big boy,” she coos, petting his head before returning her attention to me. “Unfortunately, I don’t have any shoes to go with that dress, so…”

I roll my eyes. So unfortunate. “Yes, we can go shopping tomorrow,” I agree. Shea beams. “I have to meet with Nathan to go over some last-minute security for the after party, but I should be free by noon.”

“Lunch and shoe shopping it is,” she says, but her smile quickly falters. “Wait. Did you say security ? Did something happen?”

Worry etches into her face and I shake my head. “No. I mean, not…yet.”

Shea sighs. “Callie.”

“Don’t waste your breath.” I spin and sashay my way into the closet to change into my clothes, hoping she’ll let it go, but she never does. “I’d rather be safe than sorry,” I call out. The cliché makes me sound like my father, but it’s not a lie in the slightest.

I’ve been sorry more than once in the last nine years.

“I understand that, but it’s been over a year,” she says from the other room. “The police caught the bastard. He’s rotting in some jail cell—hopefully with some other asshole who stinks to high heaven making his measly life even worse.”

I come out in my high-waisted denim shorts and tank. “I know.”

“We went over the statistics.”

“I know.”

“You said that was enough.”

“And it…was,” I admit with a sigh, recalling Shea’s excessive amount of Googling that day when we learned one in twelve women are a victim of stalking at least once in their lifetime.

Unfortunately for me, I’ve had three…

The first one was in high school. A friend of a friend who thought it’d be fun to hack into my webcam and watch me from my computer. Thankfully, that got shut down rather quickly, but it was almost a year before he stopped following me around school.

The second was in college. A bitter ex-boyfriend who refused to let go for two years, regardless of the restraining orders or threats from my father.

And the most recent…a crazed fan. I’ve gotten hate mail to marriage proposals, but this was different than anything I’d dealt with in the past. He broke into my apartment.

He left messages on the walls with ideas on how the Devil’s trilogy should end.

There were pictures of me hanging on the doors of coffee shops I frequented.

My clothes went missing, vases of flowers would appear in random rooms, my phone—no matter how many times I changed the number—would ring with no one on the other end.

I moved around, living between Shea’s and my father’s, terrified to stay in one place for too long. That was when I met Hulk. Dad called in a few favors and got Hulk certified quickly at my therapist’s recommendation. She called it ‘extreme paranoia’ while my dad claimed PTSD.

And when Matthew Ryan sets his mind to something—like Hulk being my ‘cure’—there were no legal bounds to keep him from making damn sure his little girl had the constant protection she needed.

One I am more than grateful for.

“You haven’t been having any issues in Montana, have you?” Shea asks. “Because if you are, you can come back here and live with me. Or I can talk to my dad and see if we can stay at one of the resorts for a while. You know he cares about you, too.”

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss California—the beach, not the people—but Montana is a whole different world. The people are kinder, the weather grants you all four seasons, and the beauty of the mountains is unmatched.

I smile faintly. “Whitetail has been good to me so far. And I haven’t had any issues, really. I mean, other than my grumpy landlord.”

“Duke?”

“No, his brother. Beau.” I scrunch my nose at the very thought of our last encounter and his gripe over my choice of footwear.

Shea smirks. “Ah, yes, the big, muscly soldier with the nice chest hair.”

I burst out laughing. “Is that all you took from that conversation?” I ask, plopping on the bed beside her and falling against the sea of pillows. “I say one thing about a guy’s chest—”

She turns to me, her legs crossed beneath her. “Do not downplay this for me,” she states, a glint in her eye. “I haven’t heard you talk about a guy in any capacity for… Tell me, are there cobwebs in your cave of wonders or just dust?”

I snatch the pillow from behind my head and whip it in her direction. “Stop!”

We laugh for a few minutes over vagina innuendos before our laughter subsides.

Shea moves closer to me, her expression serious. “I worry about you, Cals. When I suggested you get away, I didn’t think you’d be gone this long. I miss you.”

I sit up at the emotion in her voice. “I miss you, too,” I say, pulling her in for a hug.

She gives me a light squeeze. “I’m okay.

I promise. It’s just…” I trail off and Hulk perks up, his gaze finding mine.

“It’s this place, Shea. Fame is not for me.

I love what I do, don’t get me wrong, but the obsession people have here… It’s too much.”

“I get that,” she says, brushing a tear from her cheek.

“You can come see me, too, you know,” I offer, taking her hand. “There’s plenty of cute mountain men just waiting to grovel at your feet.”

She smirks. “So now he’s cute?”

I rush to say, “I never said—”

“If I didn’t know any better,” she’s full-blown beaming now, “I’d think you have a crush, Miss Hot-Shot Movie Director slash Screenwriter Extraordinaire.”

I fight to contain any form of a smile and aim for disgust. “Ew. Gross.”

Shea rolls her eyes, laughing. “Uh-huh. Whatever you say.”

We spend the rest of the day catching up after six months apart. Opting to stay in, we order takeout, watch Real Housewives, laugh, and gossip. The whole time, a certain grumpy veteran lingers in the back of my mind, and I find myself wondering what he’s doing…and if he’s thinking about me, too.