Wild For You. Debbi Rawlins
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folder that she’d luckily salvaged, and pulled herself together before she looked up with as much concern as she could muster. “I hope I didn’t get you dirty.”
Spencer extended his hand, a wry expression on his face. “You can clean up inside,” he said, sounding as though he’d rather have his arm broken than invite her into his home.
Dusty skidded to a stop inches short of the puddle. “Are you okay, Erin?” he asked as he bent to pull her shoe out of the mud.
It looked like she felt, but after a quick swipe over the bottom of her foot, she was able to slip it back on.
“Just mortified. I’ll get over it.” Again, she accepted Spencer’s hand, and as he helped her to her feet, she realized her skirt had ridden up. She jerked her hand free to tug down the hem and fell flush against his hard chest.
She froze, making sure her feet were solidly planted before she made any more sudden moves. His arm immediately came around her. Her second mistake was to look up into his eyes. Spencer’s expression remained detached, but something had turned his eyes a dark green.
“Sorry,” she muttered. “And thanks.” She lowered the hand she couldn’t recall pressing to his chest and tentatively straightened. “I think it’s safe to let me go.”
He hesitated before releasing her. “Dusty, you mind moving Erin’s car?”
“Sure thing. Are the keys in the ignition?”
Neither of them looked at Dusty. They were still gazing at each other. But it took her a few seconds to realize it.
She cleared her throat and watched the ground as she moved away from Spencer and turned to smile at the young man. “I’m already muddy. I might as well do it.”
“It’s no trouble. Anyway, you don’t want to get your seats mucked up.”
Spencer picked up a piece of paper that had fallen from her folder. When he straightened and handed it to her, she saw what she’d done to his flannel shirt. The dark blue-and-gray plaid couldn’t hide the streaks of mud her fingers had left behind.
Erin cringed. “Sorry,” she said, waving at his chest. “Of course I’ll pay to have it cleaned.”
His mouth twitched at the corner. It wasn’t a smile exactly, but the closest thing to one that she’d seen on his face yet. “I have a washing machine and dryer if you want to use them before your next appointment.”
“What?” She glanced down at herself and then over her shoulder to check the back. Of course she didn’t have an appointment. She’d just said that as an excuse. “Dammit, this is a new skirt.” And it belonged to Lila.
“It’s only mud,” Spencer said, eyeing the front of her legs. “It’ll wash out.”
“I hope so.”
His gaze shifted briefly to Dusty, then back to Erin. “Are you coming?” Impatience flared in his face and extended to his voice. “I haven’t got all day.”
“Yes, thanks.”
Dusty hadn’t moved. He was staring at his boss with a puzzled frown. But one warning look from Spencer and Dusty opened the car door and hopped in.
Spencer didn’t even wait for her or offer his arm. Though the ground wasn’t muddy where they walked around to the back of the two-story brick house. Erin was five-five and he had to be over six feet, so it was hard keeping up with his much longer strides.
It felt good to get her circulation going, though. The autumn day had started off mildly enough, but the puddle had been cold, and the brisk wind sweeping off the foothills made her teeth chatter.
He held the door open and gestured her inside. She stopped on the thick woven floor mat and tried to scrape off her muddy right shoe, wishing she’d worn her usual Nikes. The heel caught in the roping. A discreet jerk didn’t help. Stooping or bending over wasn’t going to be fun. Or easy.
“Hold on a minute.” Spencer crouched behind her and lifted her foot out of the shoe, then freed the heel. “You want to leave these off for now?”
“Yes,” she said, feeling like a five-year-old, bracing her hands against the door frame and still clutching the folder. It not only held the contract but Lila’s list. “Thank you.”
Unexpectedly, he wrapped his fingers around her other ankle, and a jolt of heat shot up her leg. For a big guy with big hands, he had a gentle touch. She almost didn’t notice when his palm slid partway up her calf as he removed her other shoe.
“Don’t worry about the floor,” he said, and she realized he was waiting for her to move forward. “It’s just the mudroom.”
“Oh.” She glanced at the parkas and jackets hanging on hooks, at the cubbyholes filled with heavy gloves. “I’ve never seen a mudroom before.”
“On second thought, you’d better use this.” Rising, he grabbed a towel hanging on the side of a deep utility sink. “I don’t care about the floor, but you could slip.”
He threw the towel on the tiles in front of her, his hand poised near her elbow, ready to catch her if she stumbled. His brown hair was a bit longer than last time but still pretty short. It was an expensive cut, not something a regular barber would do.
“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