Page 20 of Backed By You
I try to steady my breathing despite the fear coursing through me. I canfeela disturbance in the air, a subtle wrongness that prickles the hair on my arms. I reach for the light switch and turn it on, flooding the main living space with sudden brightness.
That’s when I see them—muddy boots by the door. Men’s work boots.
My breath catches.
Hulk moves forward, his body a barrier between me and whatever awaits. His hackles are raised, teeth bared in silent threat as he stalks forward. My legs feel leaden as I follow him, every instinct screaming at me to run, but I force myself to stay, one hand buried in Hulk’s fur for courage.
The couch comes into view, and there, sprawled across it, is a man.
And not just any man.
Beau Montgomery.
For a moment, my fear gives way to relief, then to utter confusion. Beau’s asleep on my couch, one arm flung over his eyes, the other dangling toward the floor with his knee propped up on a pillow. His chest rises and falls in the deep rhythm of an exhausted sleep.
He’s shirtless. Wearing nothing but one of my pink bath towels wrapped around his hips.
I blink rapidly, trying to process what I’m seeing. My grumpy, perpetually scowling landlord is asleep naked on my couch at six in the morning.
“Steh platz,” I whisper, letting Hulk know he can stand down. He reluctantly backs up, but remains on high alert, his gaze fixed on Beau.
I take a moment to study him. The carved plains of his chest, arms…legs. His left knee, I’ve seen him wear a brace over, is bare and savagely scarred. Jagged skin and burn marks sit alongside clean lines that appear surgical in nature. My gaze flicks to his chest where a few scars mar his toned torso, weaving through his thick-cut abs.
He stirs slightly in his sleep, shifting his weight on the cushions. The arm covering his eyes falls away, revealing his face and peaceful expression, so different from his usual constipated scowl. His strong jaw is relaxed, and his full lips part slightly. Without the usual furrow between his brows, he looks younger. Vulnerable.
My gaze shifts downward once again, tracing the defined ridges of his abdomen, the bulky cut of his hips, and the way my pink towel contrasts with his tanned skin. The fabric has loosened with his movement, slipping lower on one hip and exposing more of that V-line.
It should be illegal for men like Beau to show their Vs in public.
I can’t help but notice the distinct bulge beneath the towel, the fabric tented slightly. Heat floods my cheeks and a warmth races down my spine, settling low in my belly. I swallow hard, very aware of how intimate this moment is.
Hulk chooses said moment to growl at our intruder. His low warning breaks the spell. Beau’s eyes fly open—alert and focused despite his abrupt waking.
His gaze lands on Hulk and he bolts upright, disorientation clear on his face for a split second before his gaze locks with mine. I watch comprehension dawn, followed by something I’ve never seen on him before. Embarrassment.
“What are you doing in my house?” My voice comes out steadier than I feel, riding on a wave of relief and…something else I’m not ready to admit.
Hulk growls again, a second warning that needs no translation. I keep my hand firmly on his collar, but I don’t call him off completely.
Beau runs a hand through his short, sleep-mussed hair. The movement causes the towel to slip even lower on his hips. I force my focus to remain locked on his face, refusing to acknowledge the direction that towel is heading.
“Callie,” he says, his voice rough from sleep. “You weren’t here.”
Of all the things he could have said, that is probably the worst. Like it would have been fine if I hadn’t caught him? Is he serious?
“That’s not even close to an explanation,” I say.
Hulk shifts beside me, sensing my increased emotions. It’s hard to say if I’m leaning more toward anger, fear, or worry at this point.
Beau eyes Hulk warily, but to his credit, he doesn’t flinch.
“The storm,” he finally says, gesturing toward the window. “My tent—”
“You broke into my home because it was raining?” The absurdity of it almost makes me laugh.
“I didn’tbreakin,” he counters weakly. “I used the key Duke gave me.”
The spare key that should only be used if Ilosemine and because Dukewasmy landlord. I can get past Beau having it now, considering heismy current landlord, but this? “That’s for emergencies! Like a busted water pipe, or if I can’t get into the house. Not for—” I wave my hand at his state of undress, at the clear evidence that he’s made himself right at home in my absence. “—whatever this is.”
