not pretty enough to nab a decent role.”
“Come on, Lila. You just said we’re close.” Erin didn’t like her friend’s resigned tone. She was just tired. Everyone on location was living out of suitcases and in drafty trailers with lousy beds. “We’re going to kill it, and for the sequel, I’ll get the assistant director’s slot and you’ll get a supporting actress role.”
“Fingers and toes crossed,” she said. “They’re calling me. I have to go. You still have the list I gave you, right? And the makeup and heels?”
“Yep.” Erin shook her head. She was the wrong person to convince Spencer Hunt to change his mind. Lila should be here instead of doing hair and makeup for that prissy Penelope Lane, who was playing the lead role.
Natural blonde Lila was gorgeous. Anywhere outside of Hollywood, she was an easy ten. And with his dark hazel eyes and his perfectly chiseled jaw, so was Spencer Hunt. Still, Erin would’ve liked to see him try to say no to Lila.
Sighing, Erin found the checklist along with the bag of her friend’s good intentions, dumped the contents on the bathroom counter and shuddered. Lots of stuff she didn’t recognize. Good thing Lila had included what to wear and makeup instructions on the list. But adding a reminder for Erin to be charming... Really?
Oh, Jesus.
She thought again about Spencer and swallowed. He was going to laugh at her. Or worse, think she was pitiful. But if pity got him to sign on the dotted line, she could live with that.
* * *
DUSTY POKED HIS HEAD into the barn. “You expecting company?”
Spencer looked up from the vaccinations he’d laid out for the twin colts. He’d lived outside Blackfoot Falls for ten months now and barely knew a dozen people. His choice. Against his objections, Dusty had followed him from Boise, but the main reason Spencer had hired the kid was so he could avoid going into town. It hadn’t stopped the nosy questions on the few occasions Spencer had picked up supplies himself, but he’d learned to deal with those.
“Nah, I didn’t think so,” Dusty said without waiting for a response. “I’ll take care of whoever it is.”
He turned back toward the road, then stopped, squinting hard and scratching his blond head.
“Problem?” Spencer asked.
“That lady from Hollywood drove a weird turquoise-colored car, didn’t she?”
Erin Murphy was back? How long had it been? Two...three months? Spencer strolled over to have a look for himself.
“Folks in town have been buzzing about that movie they’re gonna start filming soon,” Dusty said. “But no one said anything about her coming back.”
“Her name’s Erin.”
At the sound of his voice Dusty jumped. “You might wanna step back some so she can’t see you.”
Spencer shook his head. “You finish pitching hay. I’ll talk to her.”
“You sure about that?” Dusty looked disappointed. “I don’t mind telling her you aren’t here,” he said, pushing a hand through his shaggy hair, trying to tidy it up.
He’d been taken with Erin on her first visit and assumed she was an actress. She’d laughed at the idea, implied she wasn’t pretty enough. When Dusty had asked what was wrong with those guys in California, Erin had blushed and changed the subject.
Spencer had thought about the spunky brunette a few times since that day. He couldn’t say why for sure. The simple and most logical explanation was the lack of sex in his new life. Even though his eleven-month dry spell was self-imposed, he missed the warm soft body of a woman beside him. Not enough to give up his privacy. But maybe it was time to take an overnight trip out of town. Not to Idaho. He had no plans to return home anytime soon. If ever.
If not for last night’s hard rain packing the dirt road, her tires would’ve been kicking up dust. But it was easy to see the odd-colored car. He knew for sure it was Erin before she turned onto the gravel driveway and veered left to avoid a mud puddle. He’d meant to fill in holes and grade the drive before the snow came.
“Do you think she’d go out with me?” Dusty asked. He hadn’t moved, and Spencer hadn’t noticed until now.
“You’re nineteen,” Spencer said, hiding his surprise. “She must have ten years on you.”
“Things like age don’t matter nowadays. And she doesn’t act like one of those stuck-up Hollywood types, or I wouldn’t even think about asking.” Dusty dragged his gaze away from the car and studied Spencer. “I didn’t think you were interested.”
“I’m not. Ask her if you want.” Spencer almost added that he shouldn’t get his hopes up, but, hell, the kid technically was an adult. He just seemed young.
Spencer had no room to judge. His own immature arrogance had torn him from everything he’d loved and put him right here in this isolated little corner of Montana. And he’d been thirty-two at the time. No, he wasn’t about to make the mistake of getting in Dusty’s way.
They watched her park closer to the house and the stone walkway that led to the front door. Spencer didn’t think she’d spotted them. She was too busy doing something in her car.
He grabbed his hat off the worktable. No sense waiting for her to come to him. He figured he knew what she wanted, and the answer was still no. She didn’t even have to get out of the car.
“Hey, wait,” Dusty said. “You’re not gonna chase her off again, are ya?”
“If I have to.” He heard the kid muttering something, but Spencer kept walking. Sure, he’d admit he wasn’t unhappy to see her. But he prized his privacy and solitude above everything else. That wouldn’t change.
She opened her door, swung two long bare legs out and planted a pair of red high heels on the ground.
Spencer’s heart lurched in his chest and somehow cut off his supply of oxygen. Anatomically that was impossible. He knew that better than most people. But that knowledge didn’t put his equilibrium back to rights.
Stopping a few yards away from the car, he folded his arms across his chest and watched her stand. Her short denim skirt hit her just about midthigh. What he wouldn’t give to take a nice, leisurely look, but as it was, he couldn’t even swear the woman was Erin. His gaze hadn’t made it up to her face yet.
After a brief glance at her close-fitting red sweater, his gaze lingered on her mouth, on the row of straight white teeth biting into the plump flesh of her bottom lip.
He seemed to recall that her eyes were brown. But he couldn’t see them with her lashes lowered, head bent, her long dark hair falling forward and hiding half her face. She seemed more interested in the soft ground than in him. Wise move. If she wasn’t careful, she’d get those skinny heels stuck in the mud.
“Erin?”
She glanced up. Smiled. “Mr. Hunt,” she said, hanging on to the car door when she wobbled. “Hello. Nice to see you again.”
“I can’t
