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Logan tipped a chin in greeting.
“Thanks for agreeing to go in so early,” he said. “It will give me a chance to set up all the equipment.”
“No problem.”
It wasn’t like she’d slept last night anyway. All she could think about was what would happen today. What footage would they get? What kind of story would Sady tell about her?
Logan crouched on the ground to dig through a big black bag. Uncoiling a wire, microphone, and battery pack from the side pocket, he gestured for Everly to come closer. “Put this lav mic on.” His eyes swept over her, presumably looking for somewhere to anchor the device, but her heart galloped anyway. Damn him and his hypnotic blue eyes.
His jaw tightened. “You had to wear a dress.”
“Was I not supposed to?” Everly’s shoulders went rigid. There’d been nothing about wardrobe in the contract or the call sheets Sady had sent her.
“It’s a pain in the ass. Now we’re going to need to…” His voice was rough with frustration, and a furrow appeared in his brow. “… get this under…” He held up the mic, then shook a hand at her dress. “… that.”
He reminded her of a thirteen-year-old trying to say the word “vagina.” It hinted again at the possibility of something softer, more bashful, under his gruff exterior, and the urge to break through it hit Everly like a truck. She gave in to it, slowly dragging up her hem above her knee.
He yelped. “What are you doing?”
“You said you needed to get under my dress.” She could barely stifle her laughter. He was so easy to fluster.
Plus, teasing him was really helping to ease her own nerves.
“I meant—” He stopped short, and his mouth pressed into a tight line. “Put that down,” he said, gesturing to the skirt she was still holding. His voice hitched a little at the end, and his face was flushed.
Everly took the mic pack from his hands with a smile.
As soon as the garage door shut behind her, she got to work on the microphone. Its battery pack had a waist strap, which she tried first, but it was a good four inches too short for her midsection. The clip fared no better: the battery was too heavy for her satin underwear, causing the fabric to roll down her ass if she moved so much as an inch.
She was searching her half-full laundry baskets and the shelves of detergent for some way to fasten it securely when Logan knocked on the door.
“Everything okay?”
She stared dejectedly at the black Velcro in her hand. Nothing like having to tell a guy you barely knew that you were too big for his standard-sized equipment. She swallowed. She’d hoped that they would be prepared for this inevitability when working on a show specifically for plus-size people.On the Plus Sideshould be one place where Everly didn’t have to feel this way. She let that righteous indignation seep into her voice as she said, “Having a bit of a wardrobe malfunction.”
He was quiet for long enough that she could hear the dance of the wind through the trees outside the window. “Your wardrobe or mine?” His voice was closer, like he’d pressed to the door.
“I can’t see you so I have no idea how your clothes are doing.”
He groaned. “Is it the mic?”
She fisted her fingers around the device. “Yeah. It—”
“Greg packed the wrong strap, didn’t he?”
Everly didn’t know who Greg was, but she liked the idea that the problem was him, not her body. “Maybe?”
“I told him to throw out everything but the extra-large. The other sizes barely fit kids, for Christ’s sake.”
Some of the tension released from her shoulders. “What do I do?”
“Let me get a second one.”
“Are we going to pull a MacGyver?”
“Fewer explosions, but sure.”
Everly had only seen one real smile on Logan’s face, but she thought she could hear another in his voice now. She hoped his eyes were crinkling at the corners. And that maybe a dimple had appeared beneath his beard.
