Page 66 of Backed By You
As I fill her in on what I’ve seen ‘men-wise’ in Whitetail, I find myself wondering what’s going on downstairs. Strangely, I’m not worried. Something tells me that whatever interrogation tactics my father is employing, Beau can hold his own.
I hope.
Twenty-Four.
Beau
Istepintotheprivate 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 hewantsme 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 seatat 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.”
