Page 43 of Colton’s Mate

She opened the envelope. Inside was a folder that read, “Contractor Bids.”

Huh. How come Colt hadn’t dropped them off himself?

All her earlier insecurities came flooding back. The way guys never seemed to show much interest in her. The way Caleb lost interest in her right away, like she wasn’t even worth intimidating into sleeping with him.

Colt had been with so many beautiful, sexy women. Why would he want her for more than one night?

She opened the folder, expecting notes on the bids she’d given him.

There was only one bid inside—and it wasn’t hers.

Chapter 18

The first sheet was a cover letter. At the top it said: Hot Leopard Construction. The logo was the head and torso of a cartoon snow leopard with flames around it, and its arms and chest were proportioned like a bodybuilder. Or maybe like Popeye the Sailor Man. With sixteen-pack abs. Callie giggled.

Nobody had that many abs.

The letter read:

Dear Ms. Haugan:

We at Hot Leopard construction know you have many choices when it comes to contractors. However, we are head and shoulders (and abs) above the rest. Plus, flaming hot. You know you want some. (Remy put that part in. I swear.)

We are trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous… wait a minute, that’s Boy Scouts. Never mind. Didn’t make it to Boy Scouts—got kicked out of Cub Scouts for putting Superglue on the latrine seat at camp. Can you believe it? Probably the only actual cubs they had, and they kicked us out?

Oh, right, this is a sales pitch.

Here’s why you should hire me:

1) I know my shit and I’ll do a kickass job without ripping you off.

(I even have credentials. I attached them to this cover letter like real businesspeople do. Usually my mom does it for me… oh, wait, that sounds sooo bad. She works in the office. At Bearcat construction, I mean. So it’s because it’s her job to send stuff, not because I’m a wussy mama’s boy. That’s Remy, because he’s the owl, like her. Ow! He just punched me.)

2) I work for whiskey (the good kind, though! Geez. I’m easy, not cheap.)

3) I’m very professional. Unless you don’t want me to be. (Thongs? Marvin Gaye? Anyone?)

4) I have a lot of experience. Look on the thumb drive if you want to see some buildings I’ve built. (There’s also a video ad for Hot Leopard Construction. Remy made it. Okay, he made me help. For the love of god, don’t look.)

5) I care about your damn bar and making it the best it can be—because after everything you’ve survived, you deserve to get exactly what you want.

Sincerely,

Colton McCall (Hot Leopard. Also Construction.)

That last bullet point gave Callie a little lump in her throat. She couldn’t remember a man ever telling her she deserved something wonderful, something all her own, exactly the way she wanted it.

Would Colt really help her do that?

She looked at all the attachments. Copies of his licenses and credentials. A list of projects he’d worked on for Bearcat Construction and for other companies. Comprehensive cost estimates that were very reasonable, from what she could remember of the other bids.

She read through the bid, slowly. The last item was Contractor’s Fees: 6 bottles single-malt whiskey. To be drunk with client.*

The asterisk led to a fine-print footnote: *Contractor is not responsible for the behavior of Client if confronted with the Contractor’s admittedly irresistible shirtless form while under the influence of the aforementioned whiskey.

Callie shook her head, smiling. He just couldn’t stop, could he?

But he was serious about the bid—he must be. He’d done all the pricing. And he hadn’t returned any of the other bids with it.