“Don’t you have a rag? I don’t want to stain your towel.”
“That is a rag. Go ahead.”
Probably a good thing he never smiled. Who knew what that would do to her? Normally, she wasn’t a clumsy person. “I’m sure some of the homes in California have mudrooms, but not in the area where I grew up,” she said, wiping the bottom of her feet on the rag. “Most people think of LA or Hollywood, but there are lots of ranches in the southern part of the state.”
He looked as though he couldn’t be less interested in her rambling. “Right through that door is the laundry room.”
The nervous chatter wasn’t like her. Not even around good-looking guys. And then it hit her. “I can’t wash my clothes.” She turned to look at him. “I have nothing to wear in the meantime.”
Spencer ran his gaze down her body. “I’ll find something for you.”
“Oh, no, that’s—” Erin stopped herself from rejecting his offer. Why give up the extra time to convince him to sign the contract? She let out a breath. “That would be great.”
He placed her heels in the sink, managing to look amused without even a hint of a smile, and gestured for her to keep moving.
Sunlight flooded in through a window in the laundry room. The washer and dryer both looked new and high-end. Above them was a row of dark wood custom cabinets. The room was narrow but well organized, with lots of shelves and hooks and hangers on the opposite wall.
“Come with me,” he said, walking past her. “You can change in the bathroom while I get something for you to wear.”
They walked into a large airy kitchen with gleaming wood floors and stainless steel appliances. The butcher-block island in the middle was the only thing that looked old.
“Is the house new?” she asked, skimming a hand over the smooth countertop. It wasn’t granite but something similar.
“No, but I had some work done. There’s the bathroom.” He nodded at a door to their left and then headed for the staircase.
She hoped he’d give her a tour later. The place looked so much more interesting than it had from the outside. The open floor plan couldn’t be part of the original layout, nor the oversize windows across the back that allowed a stunning view of the Rockies. Tastefully decorated in earth tones, it was nothing like the man cave she might’ve envisioned had she stopped to think about it.
There was some Western artwork on one wall and three framed pictures sitting on the mantel that she was dying to get a look at. But that could wait. She didn’t want him to catch her snooping.
Just after she’d stripped off the skirt and was deciding on her top, which had only a few smudges, she heard the knock at the door. She opened it a little and peeked out. He held up a robe. Not one that belonged to him. It was light pink and on the small side.
“Your wife’s?’ she asked, startled at the thought.
“It’s my mom’s. She forgot it when she visited. She won’t mind.”
Well, hell... That didn’t tell her anything. “Are you married?”
“No.”
“Good.” Erin almost choked on the word. She stared at Spencer, praying there was a chance she hadn’t actually said it out loud.
His brows had risen slightly. “You want the robe or not?”
She grabbed it and shut the door.
Well, at least he wasn’t laughing. Anyway, good could mean lots of things.
She finished undressing while keeping her eyes on the folder. All she needed to worry about was getting him to give his permission to film on his land. It was easy money, for heaven’s sake. The crew would leave his property just as they found it, if not in even better condition.
By the time she’d slipped into the robe and made necessary adjustments so her bra wouldn’t show, she could smell coffee. Spencer clearly liked his brew strong.
He was standing at the kitchen sink with his back to her, and she took advantage of the moment to study his long denim-clad legs and narrow hips. Great butt, good enough to be a body double...although she’d have to see him naked to know for sure.
He turned suddenly, as if he’d sensed her watching him. His gaze took in the robe, the exposed lower half of her calves and bare feet, before motioning with his chin. “You know where the laundry room is.”
“Yep. Thanks.”
Erin had been to so many Laundromats in her twenty-eight years that she thought she’d used every model and brand of washing machine on the market.
She was so wrong.
Studying the list of different cycles was getting her more excited than was probably healthy. But she didn’t care, because this baby could do everything but make a bed. And she hadn’t even looked at the dryer yet.
“Is there a problem?”
At the sound of Spencer’s voice, she glanced at him standing in the doorway, but only briefly before she turned back to the washer. “Check this out...it has seven wash cycles and—”
“I’m aware.”
“Oh, right.” She’d already put in detergent and her clothes, set it for an extra-small load and cold water, then chose a cycle before moving over to the dryer. “As soon as I start making some real money, I’m getting a pair of these. You remember how much they cost?”
“Around thirty-five hundred, I think.”
“Dollars?” She realized what she’d said the same second he tightened his mouth. Wow, he’d almost smiled again. “Go ahead and laugh.” She turned to stroke the dryer. “I’d never have to iron again.” Erin hadn’t touched an iron in years. “Or wear wrinkled clothes.”
“If you want, there’s fabric softener and dryer sheets in the cabinet in front of you.”
She’d seen them on the shelf above the laundry detergent. Everything was so clean and orderly, it kind of made her nervous. It wasn’t that she was a slob or anything, but as soon as she’d started living out of a suitcase most of the time, her main priority was remembering to pack everything.
She opened the cabinet and knew reaching the second shelf was iffy. Even with raising herself on tiptoes, her fingertips only grazed the box of dryer sheets.
Spencer came up behind her and brought down the box. “How about the fabric softener?”
“No, thanks,” she murmured, feeling his heat against her back. He wasn’t actually touching her, but he wasn’t giving her any space, either. Experimentally, she inched back, and it was like she’d hit a brick wall. Despite his lean build, he was solid muscle.
“Anything else?”
“Yeah,” she said, turning around to face him. Her right breast grazed his arm, and a shiver raced down her spine. Spencer backed up a step. It didn’t help. Hell, he’d have to leave the state before the flutters in her chest would stop. “How about we talk a little business while I’m waiting for my clothes?”
She’d always had a husky voice, even as a kid. But it sounded different, lower than usual, as though she might be coming down with a cold. Ignoring it, she waited for him to say something, not sure how long she’d be able to hold his piercing gaze.
The silence between them seemed to suspend time, which Erin didn’t foolishly mistake for the possibility he’d changed his mind. A sudden chill coming from him took care of the fluttering problem.
“Okay, wait,” she said, catching his arm when he turned to leave. “How about a tour of the house? Not the bedrooms or anything. Just, you know, common areas.”
He stopped to stare pointedly at her hand. “Why? So you can see if all the cameras would fit?”
Erin sighed, hating the shift in his demeanor. “Come on, you can’t blame me for trying...” she said, lowering her hand. “I know we got off to a rocky start. Completely my fault. I rushed in without explaining how it works. We’re only asking for a two-week window to access your property. None of the crew would come anywhere near you or the house—”