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“Yeah, I should probably change too.” If Malik noticed my sexy subtext, he didn’t let on, glancing down at his phone instead of returning my flirty look. “The message about the wrap party said cowboy wear encouraged. Do you think that means I should wear the button-down I used for meetings in Denver, or is a T-shirt gonna be okay? I don’t exactly have anything with pearl snaps or a rodeo logo.”
“Ha. I don’t think Keely and the others will care one way or another, but if you want to play sheriff in a western shirt, I can make that happen.” I grinned because not only could I provide us both appropriate shirts, but the what-to-wear question was a great distraction from any what-next conversations.
“Oh?”
“I know people,” I said archly. Finally, all my hours volunteering in wardrobe were about to pay off. “Follow me.” I led the way to the storefront that wardrobe had occupied the whole shoot, and as keeper of the keys, I wasn’t worried about getting in, even if Liam was done for the evening. Hand on the door, I turned back to Malik. “Plenty of shirts we can borrow here. Now, we just need some cuffs from the props to complete the Sheriff Sexy—”
“Avery!” The door swung open, cutting me off, and making me jump back. Liam smiled broadly, though, so maybe he hadn’t heard me getting my flirt on with Malik. I hoped not, at least.
“Hey, Liam. Could we borrow shirts for the party?”
“Absolutely. Let me see what we’ve got.” He ushered us into the racks of costumes. “I was just working on inventory, trying to get ahead of all the packing we’ll need to do tomorrow. And you can meet my Andre.” Liam indicated a giant of a man sprawled on a folding chair.
“Hey, there.” Andre nodded a greeting for us. Taller than Malik and probably the rest of the A-List crew, he had to be six foot five or seven at least. His vibe was part motorcycle club leader with leather pants and more than a couple of tattoos and part Santa Claus with a full gray beard, jolly pink cheeks, and barrel chest. The ring on his left hand matched Liam’s, and he had a look of absolute adoration as Liam brought us over for introductions.
“He surprised me by flying in for the wrap party.” Apparently not caring about our presence or the structural integrity of the chair, Liam perched himself on Andre’s knee.
“Nice.” I was distracted by a row of costumes near Andre, fluffy petticoats and corsets from one of the brothel scenes. Some were full corsets with room up top, like a bra, while others were more like waist cinchers, and a few were somewhere in between. I couldn’t resist taking a step closer, hand reaching for a black satin half-corset designed to go from slightly below the waist to end below the sternum.
“Nice choice.” Liam’s voice made me recoil, my hand dropping back to my side like I’d been caught stealing candy. “You want to try it on?”
“A corset?” I sputtered. Damn it. I’d gotten too comfortable around lingerie, thanks to Malik and those Delectable purchases. Liam’s tone was friendly as ever, but I couldn’t rule out him teasing me. “No…no, why would I?”
“Because you look like you want to.” Liam pitched his voice softer, and that was almost worse, him deliberately trying for an understanding tone, undoubtedly so I wouldn’t feel bad for ogling the corsets. God. As Liam continued, I couldn’t even risk a glance at Malik or Andre. “You liking them is reason enough to try one. But if you need encouragement, you’d look amazing, and more than a couple of people have already borrowed some corsets and stays for the party. Might as well join the fun.”
“You would look good, ba—Avery.” Malik narrowly avoided dropping the pet name as he patted my shoulder. “I’m not the wardrobe guy, but pair it with your dressy jeans and some cowboy boots, and you’d look…good.”
He met my gaze, eyes saying that good was an understatement. Hell, his expression was so heated he might as well have called the look fuckable or sexy. Reaching around me, he removed the corset from its hanger, held it out to me, and Liam nodded encouragingly.
“Nah.” I shook my head and waggled my prosthesis. “I couldn’t work the laces.”
“Let me help you.” Liam sounded all giddy, like we were tweens at a slumber party. “You can wear it over a shirt if you want, but we’ll have Andre do some eyeliner and sparkle for you, and you’ll be the talk of the party.”
Eyeliner? Sparkle? Talk? Dozens of eyeballs all looking at me in a corset, noticing, judging, maybe even laughing. Cold sweat gathered in the small of my back, and my pulse went from nervous to terrified, ears ringing, heart straining.
