My fiancé laughed when the county forced me to live with my worst rival for 30 days… He didn’t know my rival’s trail camera would catch him at midnight with my bid in someone else’s hands.
“Joint bid, or the Marlowe House grant goes to Vance Builders.”
Commissioner Ruth Dalton tapped the gavel once, and forty people in the Calder County hearing room turned to look at me. Then at him.
Nate Kessler. Six years of beating me on every bid in the county by five hundred dollars.
“And the insurer wants the house occupied,” Ruth added. “Both lead contractors live on site until the vote. Thirty days.”
“I don’t share kitchens,” Nate said.
“You don’t share credit either,” I said.
The room laughed. My fiancé laughed loudest. Bryce leaned over from the front row in his bank suit and kissed my cheek. “Try not to kill him, babe.”
“Try not to fall for me,” Nate said, without looking at either of us.
Nobody laughed at that.
I had no choice. Harlan Restoration had ninety days of cash left, and my condo was the collateral on the loan Bryce’s bank had approved.
Night three, Nate found me in a parka at the kitchen table, pricing window sash.
“Your numbers are good,” he said over my shoulder. “Too good. Vance would kill for these. Who’s seen them?”
“Nobody. Bryce, for the loan file.”
Something moved in his face. He went out to his truck and came back with a space heater and set it at my feet.
“What was that look?”
“Nothing. Drink your coffee, Harlan.”
His phone buzzed on the counter. Under it sat a sealed envelope on Vance Builders letterhead.
He saw me see it. He put it in his jacket.
Day nine, Lauren Vance walked in like she owned the place.
“Cute,” she said, eyeing my scaffolding. “Nate, honey, when this little side project fails, my offer stands.”
“It’s not a side project,” Nate said. “And it’s not little.”
“She does trim work.”
“She does the best finish carpentry in three counties.” He didn’t raise his voice. The whole crew heard it anyway. “Her name goes first on this bid. Mine goes under it.”
Lauren left without a goodbye.
I stared at him. “You’ve never put your name under anyone’s.”
“I’ve never bid against someone I wanted to lose to.”
That night I checked the trail camera Nate had mounted for copper thieves.
11:42 p.m. Bryce’s truck at the end of our drive. Lauren climbing out, a folder under her arm. My folder.
She kissed him before she shut the door.
I watched it four times. Then I made one new copy of my bid. Total: $382,400. Twenty-one thousand over the real one.
Next morning Bryce brought roses. “Babe, the bank needs your final number.”
I handed him the folder and smiled. “Here you go.”
He had no idea I’d seen a thing.
That night Nate found me on the porch steps. He put his jacket around my shoulders and didn’t take his hand away.
“Whoever made your face look like that…”
