Page 1 of The Contractor & the Entrepreneur

Chapter

One

Rhett Coleville blewout a heavy breath as he did a walk-through with his foreman, Andy. They were at one of his current builds on a gorgeous bluff twenty feet above the White Pine River in a remote forest northwest of Kalispell. He inhaled the scent of wet sawdust and splashed through a puddle of water.

Water. In the middle of the main floor living room.

He pushed his cowboy hat back and squinted three stories up at the leak. If only they could get the roof finished, the windows installed, and save this project.

They were behind schedule. He hated being behind schedule. He could blame it on the nonstop rain they’d had all spring, the marshy conditions of this exclusive five-million-dollar lot causing extra work for him and the engineers, or his entire framing crew getting food poisoning from that hole in the wall Mexican restaurant they loved to eat at.

There were also the unexplained ‘accidents’ at this site and reported by the other contractors in the riverside development—a box of nails strewn throughout the mud damaging tires on personal vehicles and heavy equipment alike; a fire in hismentor Josh Francis’s new build next door just as they finished framing; every window being smashed on Paul Nash’s build on the north end of the development. He and the other general contractors had hired a security company, the developer had barely contributed to the cost.

Rhett preferred to place the blame where it should lay—on the head of the developer. Sloan Jensen had been annoyingly absent. He only reached out through email, too busy to leave his high-dollar condo in Vegas, which was irritating when a good in-person meeting could get a lot done. Especially with the county who always dragged their feet but were especially unreceptive to an outsider who wouldn’t show his face.

Rhett would love to get a read on who he was working with. He suspected the missing Mr. Jensen had never done a development of this scale before and had no clue what Montana late-winter and early-spring weather and county employees resistant to big developments were like. The rumors he’d heard were that this Sloan Jensen had inherited the property from his grandfather, who’d been living off the grid up here and had passed away a couple years ago. The grandson had then decided to try his hand at developing.

Big mistake. Five of the twenty half-a-million-dollar lots along the hundred-acre stretch had a multi-million dollar house in the planning stages or under construction. The developer was struggling to pin the county planners down and get the infrastructure in place. He was also failing to get road base down leading to the individual sites, let alone pavement. And the weather wasn’t doing any of them any favors. Rhett was tired of being covered with mud from his cowboy boots to his truck tires.

A wolf whistle sounded from one of the roofers three stories above them, startling Rhett out of his irritated thoughts. He couldn’t see the roofer, or who he was whistling at. That kind of whistle typically indicated a gorgeous lady, but it would be crazyfor anyone not on his crew to venture out into this rainy, muddy mess.

The homeowners on this particular build had been encouraged by Mr. Jensen to ‘start building as soon as possible so they could enjoy this beautiful recreation spot all summer long’. The uninformed middle-aged couple out of California had insisted on digging the hole the first of March when the snow wasn’t even melted. Rhett always tried to reason with, but not argue with, his clients. Reasoning had failed, however, and with only a few other projects in the finishing stages, he figured he might as well keep his men busy. So he had brought in his heavy equipment, pushed layers of snow and ice out of the away, and his men had prevailed over the frozen quagmire.

The homeowners’ excitement had fizzled quickly. They’d flown back to California and said they’d return when the snow melted and the rain stopped. It was now the end of April. The snow had mostly melted, but the rain hadn’t stopped. Rhett had never seen a spring this wet. He tried to keep the homeowners in the loop with video chats and emails.

He and Andy eased to the massive openings where glass should already be and peered out at the gloomy day to see what had the roofer whistling.

A woman. There actually was a woman out there. She was decked out in a long, fancy pink coat and sky-high heels, picking her way through the muddy ground, trying to avoid the deep puddles. Her tan, lean, bare legs were getting splattered. Rhett hadn’t been able to get a gravel base for the driveway, let alone concrete poured. In that he could relate with the developer. It was a disaster out there.

He couldn’t see the woman’s face, but her brunette curls were sopping from the rain. Where was her hat? Where were her pants? What was she doing wearing those heels and that coat on a construction site? What was she even doing here, milesfrom civilization and a paved road? It was definitely not his homeowner, and he had no idea why a woman who was dressed all fancy would stray this direction or dare step foot into that muck.

Maybe his little brother Houston was pranking him. The woman would reach them, open her coat to reveal a funny T-shirt that said something likeI’m a construction worker, not a magician. I understand you think they’re one and the same. It had been his birthday last week and Houston had missed it. Rhett didn’t care about his birthday, but he could hardly wait for his closest and only single brother to be done with residency and move home at the end of May.

The T-shirt his brother Walker had given him for his birthday had saidDon’t worry, Mr. Architect, I’ll make it work and save your job. Again.

Rhett had piles of such T-shirts and wore them every day. It helped make him more relatable to his crews and often dispelled any tension that rose over one problem or another.

Andy let out his own whistle of surprise. “Is she off her rocker?”

Rhett gave him a befuddled look and raised one hand. “Quite possible.”

He strode for the front entry, then hurried out onto the wide concrete porch and down the wood ramps they’d constructed as unfortunately the steps weren’t finished either.

“Ma’am?” he called out as he approached.

She glanced up at him, and all the oxygen fled from his body. Rhett couldn’t swallow past his dry throat as it felt like his oldest brother Sheriff Clint had just gotten a solid hit to his diaphragm. He looked into her deep-brown eyes, shadowed by long dark lashes, wet from the rain, and wondered if the earth was shaking or if it was just an earthquake inside his body.

He quickly checked the house and trees just to make sure. He’d feared a mudslide on this bluff above the river, but the developer had paid for the extensive testing the county required for this location. All the results showed it was solid ground.

Moistening her enticing red lips, the lady stared at him and swayed as if the earth wasn’t stable underneath her fancy heels either.

Her eyes were soft and warm and full of him. She looked him over once, twice, blinked rainwater out of her eyes in the most enticing flutter of eyelashes known to womankind, and then she said in a raspy tenor voice that reverberated through his cells, “Who are you?” As if he were some superhero like Aiden Porter or his Navy SEAL brother Miles who’d married the famous actress Eva Chevron.

“Rhett Coleville, ma’am. It’s a pleasure,” he said, his voice deeper and huskier than hers.

Her gaze became more guarded and not quite as worshipful. Her lips pursed and then she nodded as if she’d come to a decision. “Oh, good. Exactly the man I am looking for.”

Rhett’s stomach did the mamba at those words. This mesmerizing woman was looking for him? All of his brothers except Houston had found their perfect matches during the past year. He knew his mama was praying for him to find his, but he hadn’t realized she’d been praying this diligently. He’d have to send up some prayers of gratitude and give his mama many hugs of thanks.

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