Page 64 of Backed By You
“That’s what they’re calling you,” Shea informs him with delight. “My current favorite is that you’re a rugged Montana rancher who tamed Hollywood’s most private director.”
I can’t help but laugh at Beau’s expression. So serious.
“I don’t ranch,” he points out dryly.
“Details.” Shea waves dismissively, a hint of glee in her voice at being able to tease Beau. He gets riled up so easily. And she’s taking full advantage. “The narrative is what matters. And this narrative is gold, especially compared to the tired ‘director-actor on-set romance’ they were trying to push with Jack.”
The intern finishes her pinning and steps back. “All done. If you can take it off carefully, I’ll have these minor alterations finished by tonight.”
“It’s perfect,” I say, admiring the dress in the full-length mirror. The color complements my hair and skin tone, and the cut is both elegant and comfortable—a rare combination in an evening gown.
My best friend beams at the sight of me. “Gorgeous.”
A knock at the door interrupts us. Beau is up and alert, walking to the door to check the peephole before I can even turn around.
“It’s your father,” he tells me.
My brow furrows. I haven’t talked to him since we landed on Sunday. It’s Tuesday.
Beau opens the door, and my father steps in, looking out of place and unfazed in his department-issued attire. “Callie,” he says, his weathered face breaking into a smile when he sees me. “Department needs me tomorrow for a task force meeting, so I wanted to wish you luck in person before the show.”
I carefully maneuver in my half-pinned dress to hug him. “I’m glad you stopped by.”
He holds me at arm’s length, taking in the dress with genuine admiration. “You look great, honey,” he says softly for only me to hear. “Just like your mother in that color.”
The comparison to my mom catches me off guard, a lump forming in my throat. She died in a car accident when I was an infant. And with few pictures and Dad rarely wanting to talk about her… This moment feels special. “Thanks, Dad.”
He clears his throat, the moment passing as quickly as it came. Typical Matthew Ryan. “Shea,” he acknowledges with a nod.
“Hey, Matt,” Shea replies with the easy familiarity of someone who knows his aloof demeanor is never personal.
Dad turns his attention to Beau, who’s been standing quietly near the door. “Montgomery,” he says, extending his hand. “Good to see you again.”
“Sir,” Beau replies, shaking his hand firmly.
“You looked after her yesterday at that interview thing?” Dad asks, his tone casual, but his eyes sharp.
“Yes, sir,” Beau says simply.
Dad nods, satisfied. “Mind if we have a chat downstairs?”
My stomach tightens instinctively. Dad doesn’t ‘chat’ with people. He interrogates them. “Dad, Beau doesn’t need the third degree—”
“It’s fine.” Beau gives me a reassuring nod.
Dad turns to me. “Won’t keep him long.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Be nice.”
“Always am,” he says with the innocent expression that never fooled me, even as a kid.
Maya clears her throat. “Miss Ryan, we should get you out of the dress before the pins shift.”
“Right,” I say, reluctantly turning away. “You two go ahead. But Dad—”
“I know, I know,” he says, heading for the door. “No threats, best behavior.”
“That’s not reassuring!” I call after them as the door closes.
