Page 3 of The Contractor & the Entrepreneur

“I’ve just arrived from Vegas,” she said.

Her red lips formed the words, but his mind was having difficulty processing them. Vegas? His neck tingled, but not from her appeal at the moment.

“Yes. I’m here to get all these construction projects back on track.”

“Pardon me?” His spine stiffened. He’d be more than happy to tell her why the construction projects were not on track, and he knew the other four builders working along this bluff agreed with him.

“Yes. You.” She pointed at him. “Not just you, but all the general contractors are falling behind. We can’t have that. The homeowners are frustrated and inundating me with complaints. I’m here to make everything proceed smoothly.”

Rhett released her and stepped back. She toddled on her heels but luckily didn’t go down. She looked beautiful, vulnerable, muddy, and sorely out of place. So she’d been sent here by Sloan Jensen and thought she could make things proceed smoothly? The other contractors would not appreciate her showing up like an out of place runway model. They would tell her to head on back to Vegas and let her boss be man enough to come deal with his own mess. If their crews or subs found out who she was, most of them would flirt with or harass her. He had to set her straight and keep her from wandering onto any other sites alone and unprotected. He didn’t think any of the workers would hurt her, but they would definitely hit on her and push further than a classy woman like this would feel comfortable with.

“There have been some setbacks on our personal job sites,” he admitted tightly, “but the bigger problem is that the developer got it in these homeowners’ heads that we couldplow through construction in late winter and early spring in the mountains of Montana. Obviously Sloan Jensen has no idea what Montana weather is like, and he certainly has no idea that custom builds of this size take almost a year to complete. Even if we weren’t in a quagmire, these people wouldn’t be in their houses this summer.” He gestured at the rain and muck, some pockets of snow lingering in the trees. He shook his head and pushed out a disgusted breath, even as her face tightened and her lips thinned. “Another huge issue is we have no power or paved roads.”

The wells also needed to be dug and septic tanks installed. That was an issue they’d have to deal with later, but thankfully that didn’t affect the project yet.

“Do you know what a pain it is to do a project of this size with generators? Do you have any idea how many concrete mixers, pump trucks, delivery trucks, and other heavy equipment—not to mention personal vehicles—have gotten stuck in this mess?” He gestured to the subdivision’s road they couldn’t see through the thick trees and his disaster of a driveway. “I’m assuming you work for Sloan Jensen and the wuss sent you here to represent him, thinking all of us slow Montana contractors would fall for a pair of pretty eyes and legs and take the blame instead of him with the homeowners. I’m here to tell you he’s wrong. For your own emotional and physical safety, I’d suggest you head on back to Vegas.”

He ran out of words, his frustration somewhat mollified by being able to express it. Her pretty dark eyes were now shooting fire at him. Was she deeply invested in this Sloan Jensen? What if she was dating him, married to him? Would the dimwit send his wife or girlfriend alone to face five ticked-off contractors and unbending county bureaucrats?

A quick glance at her left hand showed no ring on an essential finger. A fancy lady like this would definitely wear a gorgeousdiamond ring. If she were his, he’d buy a bigger rock than even his brothers had, not wanting anyone to miss seeing that diamond and try to hit on his wife.

Shaking his head, he saw large drops of water fly off his hat. He’d been insanely drawn to and impressed by her. He’d let himself believe they had a special connection. But if she was going to come in here and try to place the blame on him and the other generals when Mr. Jensen could shoulder his fair share of responsibility, Rhett would stand up for himself and his friends.

The beauty blinked at him again, and he feared for the second time in the past few minutes that the water works were going to start.

Once again, the woman impressed him. She blinked quickly, stood tall on her heels, still four or five inches shorter than his six-four, and gave him an impertinent glare that he couldn’t help but respect. He’d much rather have her looking doe-eyed at him like she had when she’d said he was a tough and alluring cowboy. That moment had unfortunately passed.

“Mr. Coleville,” she said in her appealing tenor, dropping the Rhett once again. “I am Sloan Jensen.”

The earth shook under Rhett’s boots again.

The dark-eyed, husky-voiced, too-fancy, out-of-place beauty who’d thrown him for a loop … was the developer and entrepreneur out of Vegas.

Rhett let out a long breath. Mama’s prayers were not working on his behalf after all.

Chapter

Two

Sloan Jensen staredat the exquisite and irritated cowboy contractor towering over her. He was a big guy. She was almost six feet with her four-inch heels and he still had four or five inches on her.

Rhett Coleville was the most manly and gorgeous male she had ever encountered in her life, and she’d been around a lot of tough and good-looking men growing up and working in the construction industry. She’d felt sparks and tremors from the depth in this contractor’s summer blue eyes and the touch of his hands. His scent of wood shavings, pine, and vanilla had clouded her mind. His cowboy hat and strong build overshadowing her had felt like he could protect her from her father, this construction nightmare, and even her own demons, most of all her father’s voice convincing her she could never stand on her own.

This Rhett could easily pluck her out of the mud but he’d listened when she said no. When she’d asked him for help he hadn’t been smug about it or made her feel like less as her father would have. Impressive.

And apparently Rhett was angry and placing all the blame on her for the muddy mess she was now wearing on her favorite Old Navy dress coat and the Stuart Weitzman pink spike heels she’d found on clearance but had still cost her a hundred dollars she shouldn’t have spent. This project had taken all of her savings and spare time during the past twenty months, given her debt she despaired she’d never pay off, and become a nightmare of epic proportions.

The nightmare was getting worse by the moment. Would she ever get the mud out of this coat or off her shoes? Would she ever get this man’s blue eyes and the intimate and heart-stopping way he’d looked at her out of her mind? It had felt as if he knew her and knew what she needed.

That was before she’d told him her name. Now he looked cold and standoffish. The fake bravado she wore like a second skin threatened to slip.

Rhett Coleville truly blamed her for this mess? Granted, she shouldn’t have told the homeowners they could proceed with building at the end of February. Her research on past winters showed above freezing temperatures and snow melt in early March but that obviously hadn’t been the case this year.

She loved this area but didn’t know it as well as she would like. She’d only come to the White Pine River area three times as a child and it had been in the summer. The green mountains soaring above, river running below, and escape from her home life and Arizona’s heat had been ideal.

Except when her dad had come to pick her up after her summer visits with Grandpa and all her fears and shortcomings had settled back in. Her dad and grandfather had spent hours fighting over her staying longer. Her grandpa never won. Nobody ever won against the mighty Eric Jensen.

She’d come for Grandpa’s funeral twenty-two months ago, also in the summer, and that had been even worse than herdad and grandpa fighting. She’d had to tolerate her demanding, controlling, and terrifying father for three full days along with her cousins and uncle. They were all furious she’d inherited this land and Grandpa’s cabin and property. Somehow, she’d made it through without Uncle Ron and her cousins bullying her into ‘sharing’ it with them and her dad demanding she let him help her, because she could ‘never accomplish something this entailed without his help’.

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