Page 10 of Backed By You
“No,” I deadpan.
“What do you mean, no?”
“No. It’s not okay.” I gesture to the drill in her hand. “Defacing private property is a criminal offense.”
She raises a brow as she peers between the drill and me. “Are you going to file charges against me for two holes drilled in a porch roof for the purpose of hanging a porch swing?”
Why does that sound like a challenge?
“Return the swing,” I say before turning to take my leave. However, her unexpected laughter has me stopping dead in my tracks.
She giggles. “No.”
I face her. “You’re not hanging that damn swing. And you better start looking into ways to patch those fuckin’ holes, or Iwillpress charges.”
Callie smiles brightly, setting down the drill before reaching for the arm of the swing. She bends to pick it up and my jaw ticks, knowing it’s real wood and likely heavy as hell.
“Are you going to help me?” she asks sweetly, gazing up at me through fluttering lashes.
I let out a heavy, aggravated sigh. “Callie.”
“Beau,” she mocks, smiling as she continues to drag the swing up the steps.
I shake my head and force myself to walk away. I won’t be enabling her stubborn behavior.
It’s just a porch swing. It’s not. If I help her, it defeats the entire point I’m trying to make, that she can’t do whatever the hell she wants like she owns the place.
She’s a renter.Notan owner.
Stalking to my cabin, I glance back at her watching me with surprised eyes. Letting her do it by herself isn’t the chivalrous thing to do, but it sure as fuck is proving my point. So, standing here with my arms crossed, leaning against the porch post, I watch her glare at me.
She hauls the swing into position, chains it up through the necessary hooks. Then moves her unstable chair to where she can lift the chain to the hooks she drilled into the goddamn roof.
My body fights me to go over there, seeing her struggling to get the chain on the hook where she wants it. This stubborn woman is going to be the death of me.
But before I can go over there and either help or give her another piece of my mind on her installing this fucking swing without my say, the signature‘Blip Blip’of a police car sounds, pulling into the driveway.
Callie’s gaze snaps to the Whitetail Deputy Sheriff car pulling in front of her Jeep. And out steps Justin White, the apparent deputy, and prick I went to high school with.
Roughly standing at six-foot, clean shaven, short dirty blond, slicked-back hair, wearing the traditional tan cargo pants and brown uniformed, short-sleeve shirt with all his gear strapped on him. The obnoxious smile he’s beaming in Callie’s direction has my jaw clenching and my eye twitching.
Callie gets down from the chair at the same time Justin speaks with that same irritating grin in his voice, “What you got goin’ on there, Miss Ryan?”
I catch her glance at me, probably wondering if I called the cops on her, when I never truly would. But the threat still holds merit, depending on how this little interaction goes.
Justin approaches her front porch, and Hulk is sure to create his own barrier beside Callie. One I’m rather grateful for at the moment because I don’t like how this fucker is eyeing her up. “You can call me Callie, Justin.” She sighs. “I’m just hanging up my new porch swing.”
Justin nods, looking at the swing before scanning the area, and that’s when his eyes catch mine. “No shit. Beau Montgomery.” He smirks. “How the hell are you, man? I heard what happened. Glad to see you made it outta there alive.”
I grunt, not wanting to share any friendly banter with this fuckhead.
Callie looks at me curiously, likely wondering what he’s referring to, but it wouldn’t surprise me if she didn’t already know. Turning her attention to Justin, she asks, “What, um, did you need, Justin?”
He grins. “Just checking in, make sure you’re doin’ well.”
“He called you again, didn’t he?”
“Officer Ryan did put in a wellness check,” he says, resting his hands on his utility belt, like he’s someone even remotely important. “Said you haven’t been answering any of his calls.”
