Page 7 of Backed By You
Beau stares down his nose at me, his dark gaze scanning my face. He takes my hand in his rough, calloused hold. His large palm swallows mine as he gives it a shake with a firm, yet gentle grip.
“Beau Montgomery,” he says before releasing my hand and turning to Duke. “Did you give her permission for all the flowers and the raised box in the back?”
Seriously? Just when I thought we were getting somewhere…
Duke opens his mouth to respond, but I chime in, “It’s a vegetable garden. I’m going to plant some tomatoes, cucumbers, beans, a few bell pepper plants.”
Beau’s heated expression only burns hotter. “That doesn’t answer my question. Did you or did you not get permission to dig up the yard?”
I scrunch my nose. “Dig up the yard? I didn’t dig up anything. It’s a raised garden box, I put soil on top, you know, inside of it.”
“So, no. You didn’t get permission,” he grumbles.
“I don’t needanyone’s permission to put a raised garden in my backyard,” I say, having to add, “Especially yours,buddy.”
Beau’s jaw tightens.
“I told her she could.” Duke flat-out lies on my behalf. “The garden, the flowers, the tree. All of it I said was fine by you.”
Beau snaps his head to his brother. “Tree? What tree?”
I wave a hand over my shoulder. “The baby elm tree beside the raised garden. I planted it. The space seemed a little…empty.”
Beau shakes his head with an angry growl. He turns on his heel and stomps off my porch like some prissy diva who didn’t get their way. “Keep your fuckin’ music down, clean up after that dog, and move your Jeep into a real damn spot,” he hollers.
“Whatever you say…Sergeant Dickhead,” I mutter, earning a low chuckle from Duke. Beau hears me and whips that scowl over his shoulder in my direction.
I sigh. This isn’t the kind of bickering first impression I wanted. And certainly not from a renter to a landlord. I like living here, it’s treated me well so far, and I want to stay. Not get evicted.
“Sorry about him,” Duke says. “He flew in earlier today, had a long day catching up with everyone. He’s probably just tired.”
I snort. “So, I guess now would be a bad time to tell him the oven stopped working.”
Duke chuckles. “Yeah, might want to save that one.” He pulls out his phone. “I can let him know, but if you want to take down his number, I’ll give it to you now.”
I nod, putting Beau’s number in my phone. I fight the urge to label it as ‘Sergeant Dickhead’ since that seems to suit him oh-so-well. I say a quick thank you and goodbye to Duke, and I give Hulk another treat before I return to prepping his dinner.
I also turn my music back on…alittlebit quieter.
After dinner, I clean up, take a shower, and tug on a pair of pajama shorts and an oversized hoodie. I pour myself a glass of wine and take Hulk out back. The sun sets over the picturesque mountain view, and I move toward the stone fire pit off the back porch.
I drag over a lawn chair while Hulk wanders to the tree line where he’s allowed to take care of his business—it makes it easier for me to find his dumps and toss them into the surrounding forest. I pick a few pieces from the dwindling wood pile and take them to the fire pit.
That’s when I see him.
Beau—Dickhead—Montgomery.
Standing on the back porch of his cabin, he eyes me like a disgruntled boss who doesn’t approve of the work I’m doing. He’s shirtless now, leaving itallon display—rather proudly, I might add. A pair of basketball shorts hanging dangerously low on his hips. His muscles are thick, chiseled like a sculpture withdark hair patched over his chest and leading…down. Strong thighs, bulky calves.
My gaze lands on a black sleeve of some kind covering the majority of his left leg with a brace around his knee. Huh.Is that why he’s home? Did he get hurt?
I silently wonder what could hurt a man like Beau.
Trying to brush off the wound-up feeling brewing at his presence, I position the few pieces of wood in a teepee. I take the piece of junk mail and the lighter from my hoodie pocket and work on starting the fire.
Hulk trots over, sitting stoically beside me, watching my back like always. I’m sure he’s keeping an eye on our nosey neighbor. Or landlord, I suppose. I’d like to think he’s not a threat to me…
You don’t know it for a fact.
