Chapter 2

Chapter

Two

Sloan Jensen stared at 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 her dad 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’.

She pushed the ugly memories away. She hadn’t folded and that was a miracle in and of itself. Somehow she and her Heavenly Father would accomplish more miracles and this gorgeous forest would be graced with beautiful estates and she would prove she could succeed without her father.

“Well …” She focused on appearing self-assured, a quality that had kept her head above water on construction sites, kept her free of her father for over seven years, and was a necessity working in a man’s world. As she quivered in her wet and cold heels, a muck-covered spectacle, maybe self-assured was too bold. “Are you going to say what a pleasure it is to meet me?”

Where had that come from? She didn’t flirt or tease with anyone, especially not construction workers.

Rhett Coleville’s dark eyebrows lifted. Short dark curls poked out underneath that appealing cowboy hat, and he had dark brows and lashes, a thick dark beard, tanned skin, and the most gorgeous blue eyes she’d ever viewed. He was mesmerizing and throwing her off her plan. She wanted to confide in him all the stress of the past twenty months from her perspective, beg him for patience, and then ask him to dinner.

Oh, my. No. She couldn’t let down her guard like that. She always put on a brave facade and no man could get through it.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Jensen,” he said in a husky drawl that made her stomach dance. Yet that look in his eyes… He had been drawn to her, but now he was questioning his own sanity. Was he too tough and brawny to respect a woman on a construction site? Construction was in her blood. Her father owned commercial construction companies in Phoenix and Los Angeles, and with her mom dying when she was ten, she’d been dragged to sites for as long as she could remember. Her father had drilled certain rules into her—dress professional, demand respect, don’t allow men to make an issue of your beautiful face. You are Eric Jensen’s daughter. How many times had she heard that? As if the world should quake at his name. She sadly still did quake internally around him; that was why she avoided him at all costs. She’d escaped to college, met her best friend Kathy, found her Savior, and trained herself to stand on her own.

No man would tell her what to do ever again.

But Rhett Coleville … the cowboy contractor was mesmerizing. Those striated muscles in his arms were eye candy. The way it had felt to touch the bulging muscles in his chest and shoulders made her want to sigh like a besotted female and try it again. Unfortunately, that would never be in her plans. Even if he wasn’t annoyed by her.

Rhett was young to be a general, but she was young to be a private developer. Hopefully they could both overlook age. She’d try to find common ground and be kind, but she still wouldn’t let a man boss her around. He’d ‘suggested’ she should head back to Vegas? Not happening. She was here to make this development succeed or go broke trying.

“It’s Sloan,” she corrected, which made his eyebrows rise again as he’d requested Rhett earlier but she’d reverted to Mr. Coleville. “And what are you doing out here in only a T-shirt?” She looked that T-shirt over to avoid his enticing blue eyes. “ Don’t make me use my construction voice ?” Maybe he did have a sense of humor. “I think I just heard that construction voice.” She gave an exaggerated shudder. “Terrifying.”

She laughed and he actually joined her. It was a relief and much needed. Maybe they could be friends.

“Forgive me for using my construction voice,” he said in a husky timbre she really liked.

“As long as you don’t use it again,” she sassed back, surprised at how easy bantering with him was. It was unfamiliar and exciting.

“We’ll see.” He grinned. His face changed from gorgeous to carved by heaven above as he looked her over with a slow, enticing smile. “You are one to talk about me only wearing a T-shirt, Ms. Jensen. I have a flannel inside the build, but when I saw you teetering through the quagmire on your high heels, in your ridiculous high dollar coat, I rushed out to gallantly rescue you.”

She was surprised he didn’t flex his lovely arm muscles as he said ‘gallantly rescue’.

“You didn’t need to rescue me, Mr. Coleville,” she said in a spicy tone, irritated and also trying to hide her interest in him and the humiliation of falling on her rear in the mud. Her cheeks and neck went hot. He thought she looked ridiculous in these heels and the ‘high dollar coat’ that cost sixty-two dollars and had rarely been worn in Vegas.

“Hmm.” He folded those beautiful arms across his equally alluring chest and smirked at her. “You would’ve preferred I left you in the muck?”

She considered that and the honest answer was no, but she still prickled. “I haven’t played in the mud in years. Maybe I was enjoying it.”

He chuckled. “You looked like you were.”

Sloan couldn’t help giving him a conspiratorial smile. Their conversation was half teasing and half taking shots. She was drawn to him and irritated at the same time. She didn’t know what to expect from him next but looked forward to the interaction. Could she make this tough cowboy general contractor an ally to help her deal with the other irritated and behind-schedule contractors?

“Well.” She clasped her hands together. “Shall we go inside and look around? You should be closed in and ready for sheetrock, raw plumbing, and electrical wiring by now, but you’re roofing and framing still. Waiting on glass delivery and installation?” She gave him a pointed stare. “Three weeks behind, then?”

His jaw slackened at her sharing a bit of construction knowledge. He rubbed at his thick beard and said, “Forgive me for pointing fingers earlier, Ms. Jensen, but you seem to know construction. So you’ll understand that I’ll be able to catch up as my foreman and I have been helping with the framing. We have some extra time our hands as most of my other almost-completed projects are going smoothly and none of my other under-contract custom homes are dumb enough to start this early in the season.” He gave her a pointed look. “Also, my electricians, sheet rockers, and plumbers are on standby for this project. They will work double time because of the mutual respect I’ve fostered with them and the fact that not much other early phase construction is happening in the mountains of Montana at the moment.”

Sloan drew in a breath. He was upset she’d encouraged the homeowners to start in March. She’d been fighting through red tape with the county, fighting a lawsuit with her uncle, working with engineers, and waiting for the building process to start for over a year and a half. Maybe she’d been a bit too ambitious, but she felt if these homes got built, the excitement of this beautiful location and her homeowners would be infectious and she’d be able to sell additional lots, pay off her loans, and finally be in the black. If she could sell the remaining fifteen lots, she could turn her future around.

“You, on the other hand,” he continued, “need to get some local asphalt companies in your corner as well as charm the hard-headed folks at the county office to get the power strung up here, or you’re going to have a riot on your hands.”

Sloan knew that. Nothing was going right on this project. He could get caught up, but her chances of getting the road paved and the power lines installed anytime soon was not looking good. They were miles from the closest power lines and plans called for buried power lines, making it even more of a mess right now.

The smell of moist earth, pine, rotting leaves, and rain reminded her of the nasty weather.

She was hitting brick walls everywhere she petitioned. That was why she’d been excited to finally be here in person. But if she was going to fall in the muck and stick out like a sore thumb with the business apparel that she always wore on commercial sites, maybe coming in person wouldn’t help the issues.

So they’d started too early in the year. So she hadn’t researched Montana winters and made friends with the county. What did she know about residential construction and massive mansions set above a river in the breathtaking mountains? She loved this beauty and wanted to stay immersed in it. Rhett Coleville was more beautiful than the thick greenery, soaring mountains, and rushing river.

No. Sloan couldn’t be drawn to this cowboy. She had to find a way to work with the contractors, the county, the asphalt company, and get everything back on schedule or she wouldn’t be able to pay her loans. Not to mention dealing with very unhappy homeowners. Not to mention if she didn’t sell more lots, she’d lose everything and never get a chance to spread her wings and succeed. She longed to live in this beautiful, quiet, verdant spot instead of dry, too-loud, too-busy Vegas. Then, with any luck, she’d never see her dad again.

With her master’s degree from Arizona State in construction management and technology, she’d felt confident and determined to strike out on her own, refusing to work for her father as he’d always planned. She’d been hired by a commercial contractor in Vegas based on her university performance and her family name. She’d done extremely well, getting raises, bonuses, and praise from the boss.

When her grandfather passed over eighteen months ago, and she found out she’d inherited over a hundred acres overlooking the breathtaking White Pine River, she’d known it was time to truly go on her own, to become an independent entrepreneur. She was ready to shine, and if she ever faced her dad again, she’d do it with her head held high, her hands steady, and her deep voice level.

Sloan had refreshed her education on residential development, taken out a loan with the land as retainer, started working with engineers and county planners, drawn up plot maps, and subdivided the property. She would only retain the two acres and the cabin that she’d vacationed to three summers with her grandfather while trying to avoid her rough boy cousins. Five of the twenty half-a-million-dollar lots had sold. She set money aside to pay for the loan payments and more development and infrastructure costs than she’d planned on.

If she sold the last fifteen lots, she could pay off her loans and have a huge savings. She’d be able to buy twenty new Old Navy coats and Stuart Weitzmans that weren’t on clearance, but more importantly have a name as a residential developer of luxury lots and never have to return to Vegas. She could purchase more property in neighboring areas and prove to her dad she could succeed, her way and without his ‘help’.

Unfortunately, she’d had to manage everything from Vegas initially as she needed her paychecks to keep paying the loans she’d had to secure. There were also numerous projects with her employer she’d committed to and felt duty-bound to see through. She had finally gotten county approval for the subdivision in December, a year and three months after she’d started applying and too late to start for the season.

The past two months as some of the construction got underway, the complaints from the contractors and homeowners alike had filled up her inbox. She’d been unable to make any progress on the roads or the power lines from afar and spending money on flights hadn’t been an option.

After finishing her last project two days ago, she’d packed up her apartment, loaded up her Sonata, and come to make everything go smoothly. The county offices had been closed for the day when she’d arrived just after five, so she’d headed for her land. This was her first stop, and it wasn’t going well.

“I appreciate your insight, Mr. Coleville,” she said diplomatically, her stomach aching from the stress. It looked much worse out here than she’d imagined. A true mud pit. Her car had gotten stuck on the unpaved road leading up to the stretch of forested property above the river. They didn’t even have road base down, let alone asphalt. The company kept telling her they had a skeleton staff until the weather broke in late spring. They hadn’t mentioned that when they’d signed the lucrative contract and taken her deposit last fall. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much competition for asphalt companies up here.

“Please keep on pace and I will work on the utilities and … road base.” She couldn’t promise asphalt as she had no idea when that would happen.

“Much obliged,” Rhett said, though his jaw was tight and his blue eyes flicked with annoyance. He didn’t like her coming in here and not having much of an answer to the obvious difficulties he and his crew were dealing with. She didn’t want Rhett Coleville as an enemy; he was the top builder throughout the nearby Kalispell area. His insight and connections could be a huge blessing for her.

Often in construction, it wasn’t what you knew but who you knew. Unfortunately, up here in the woods of Montana, she didn’t know anybody besides the uncle and cousins she wished she didn’t know. She’d had one county employee mention he knew her grandpa, but it hadn’t pulled any strings. Her grandpa had been old and irritated and lived off the grid. His name probably wouldn’t do her any favors.

“All right then.” She clasped her hands together and glanced around. This custom home would be breathtaking when it came together. The entryway she could see was three stories high. The huge openings for windows front and back would give glorious views of the river, the forest, and the mountains.

It was picturesque. The rain added a layer of mystic, as if she’d stepped into another world. Did the rain ever stop up here? There’d been dingy piles of snow lingering along the highway and amidst the trees. Rain was better than snow, at least.

“If there isn’t anything else you need to add to my to-do list, I’ll be on my way to the next site.” Her stomach twisted. How was she going to get her car unstuck from the mud and drive to the next site? She’d pushed away that worry as she dealt with the handsome cowboy in front of her. She could just imagine her dad telling her she was failing and needed his help. Just like her mom, she couldn’t do anything without her dad.

No. She tilted up her chin. She had this.

“Ms. Jensen,” he said, his blue eyes boring into her. “Do you think it’s wise to go traipsing around construction sites full of rough-neck men like… this?” He waved a hand at all of her.

Rainwater dripped past her lashes and trailed down her nose and cheeks. She blinked to clear her eyes, arched her brows, and tried to act unaffected. “I know my heels aren’t very practical.” How to explain to a tough guy like this cowboy contractor that she’d been trying to make a good impression and this was how she dressed on commercial sites? Usually her classy apparel helped her gain respect. Being as tall as most men also aided her in the nonstop quest for them to take her seriously.

“I’m not talking about your heels.” He folded his arms across his chest again.

“Then what are you talking about?” she demanded, folding her own arms and squaring off.

“Your gorgeous face and bare legs.”

“Oh!” It was an offhanded compliment, but offensive nonetheless. “How dare you?—”

“Notice your beautiful face?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow at her.

“You didn’t mean it as a compliment.”

“Hmm.” He lifted his shoulders and splayed his hands.

Somehow that one non-committal sound and movement became one of the hugest compliments she’d ever received. Especially with the way his alluring blue eyes zeroed in on her. She shook it off and focused.

Stay detached. Don’t let any man get close and try to control you.

“My face should have nothing to do with this. If I was a man, would you notice my beautiful face and my bare legs?”

He smirked at her. “If you were a man, I sure hope you wouldn’t be wearing high heels, a pencil skirt, and a fancy pink coat.”

“It is the twenty-first century.” She smirked right back at him. She’d seen more surprising things in Vegas.

“Apparently. Developers of a multi-million-dollar project are fresh out of college and haven’t researched the weather or unique demands of their project’s location.”

It was the harshest thing he’d said to her since he realized she was Sloan Jensen. He seemed drawn to her, but there was obvious resentment lingering under the surface that she suspected had nothing to do with her coat, heels, or gender and everything to do with her inexperience in residential projects in the mountains of Montana. No electricity or road base wasn’t doing her any favors in his eyes. She’d have to hide her insecurities, as always, and prove him wrong.

Somehow.

“I am not fresh out of college.” She held herself erect, tilting her chin up. Twenty-two months out, but he didn’t need to know that. She knew commercial construction and had learned residential, on paper. She would make this work. “And I’m here to make sure my end of things gets accomplished.”

“Great. I’d love to see that happen.”

“You will,” she threw at him. “You’ll have a front row seat.”

“Aren’t I lucky?” He inclined his chin and smiled at her.

Sloan tossed him an impertinent look, whirled on her heels, and almost went down in the sludge again.

“Whoa.” Rhett caught her elbow. “Steady there.”

She huffed out a breath. This man was tantalizing and infuriating. She’d show him.

“I’m fine,” she bit out. “I am not some damsel in distress.” She tugged her arm free, straightened her back and neck, and stormed through the muck. One heel squelched in, grasped by the hounds of heck, and got impossibly stuck. Ah, no. She glanced over her shoulder to see Rhett Coleville hadn’t moved. He was watching her from underneath that cowboy hat, a slight smile on his firm lips and humor in his blue eyes. He was enjoying this show.

“Ugh.” She faced forward and yanked her leg to pull her heel out. She yanked and yanked and finally it flew free, throwing her off balance. She pitched forward, off both of her impractical heels. She sprawled into the mud, on her abdomen this time. Her hands braced her to keep from face planting, but dirty muck sprayed onto her neck.

“Ah, Sloan,” Rhett groaned from behind her.

Interesting that he’d used her first name now. Pity?

She didn’t want his pity. She wanted his respect.

Guffaws, laughter, and some more whistling sounded from the roof.

“Knock it off,” Rhett demanded in his ‘construction voice’, and they fell immediately silent.

Please, Father above. I’m not sure what I did to warrant such humiliation, but please let me disappear into this puddle rather than have Rhett Coleville laugh at me and come help me up.

She didn’t hear any laughter. She did hear footfalls approaching. Large, manly, booted footfalls. Looking over at his mud-splattered cowboy boots, she wondered if he could be any more macho, and if she could be any bigger of a mess. Good impression down the toilet. Respect? She was a laughingstock. Her father would be gloating.

She gritted her teeth. She didn’t care what her father or any man thought of her.

Rhett squatted down next to her, and she forced herself to lift her gaze and meet his. “That was quite an impressive Superman leap,” he said softly, obviously trying to diffuse the situation.

“I’ve worked years to perfect it.”

He smiled.

Ah, that smile. His cheeks and the corners of his eyes crinkled perfectly. His beautiful lips beamed at her and his blue, blue eyes sparkled. If she weren’t already lying face down in the mud, she might swoon.

“Let’s get you out of here,” he said.

“Thank you,” was all she could manage, not even attempting to claim she could do it on her own as she always did.

Her pride was ruined, everything she was wearing was ruined, and any high-power image she thought she could traipse in here displaying was destroyed. Rhett probably thought she was a prissy idiot. She didn’t blame him.

Sloan placed her hands in the mud—no sense fighting it anymore—and pushed herself up. Rhett wrapped his arm around her waist and helped her. When she was on two feet again, she rubbed at an itchy spot of mud on her neck with the back of her hand.

Rhett smiled at her. “Fighting a losing battle there, Ms. Jensen.”

“I’ll keep fighting it.” Their eyes met and held. She felt he did respect her, simply because she would fight and absolutely refused to give up. It meant something. “Please … call me Sloan.”

“Sloan.” He said her name in such a husky and meaningful way that she quivered inside. Sloan had grown up around men, businessmen and all varieties of commercial construction workers. She’d learned how to deal with all the come-ons and annoying flirtations. She dressed fancy to show she was a woman and one to be reckoned with. Her father’s name garnered a begrudging mixture of fear and respect. She’d fought to be her own person, respected and likeable, cutting herself off from her dad completely. Most of the men in school and throughout the past twenty-two months hadn’t given her a hard time for long.

Right now, all that was stripped away. She was dirty, a mess, and had lost all clout. It was obvious the contractors up here were upset with her. Rhett had revealed that, but he’d also tried to help her, be a gentleman, extend kindness, and banter with her.

Leaning into his strong shoulder and clinging to his bare arm with her muddy fingers, the attraction that had originally zinged through her was back.

Unfortunately, he probably thought she was a hot mess. He was simply being a gentleman, and she wasn’t here to fall for some burly cowboy contractor. She didn’t need to make an already overwhelming situation even worse by getting her heart stirred up. Her father had taught her well that emotion never factored into business.

Sloan stiffened and tried to walk on her own.

Her heels spun out underneath her again, she fell into his arms in a heap and clung to him.

Rhett blinked down at her. Those dark eyelashes framing his blue eyes were beautiful and unfair. She paid money she didn’t have trying to imitate such eyelashes.

“No need to keep falling into my arms, Sloan.”

She actually smiled, despite her predicament and her usual desire to keep confident men at arm’s length. “Throwing myself into your arms is more like it, Rhett.”

She was flirting. It had never felt natural to flirt before, and she’d never let down her guard with a man, especially not an alpha male on a construction site.

He chuckled. “I’ll blame your impractical footwear.”

She laughed at that but wanted to tell him he could blame his magnetism.

Rhett Coleville. A cowboy contractor. Would he be an ally, a thorn, or a distraction?

That remained to be seen.

He was distracting her from the mess she was in, but her attraction to him couldn’t factor in. Sloan never went on more than a casual date or two, no matter how appealing the man was. Kathy despaired that Sloan’s father had ruined her for trusting a man or trusting herself in a relationship.

Her friend was right.