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Everly blew out a breath. “I hate it, honestly.” She wanted to let what was happening between them unfold naturally. It needed space to breathe. Not the weight of the world’s expectations.
Logan sighed. “I don’t love it either.” He frowned, obviously pained to admit this. As if he didn’t want to go against Sady’s wishes.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” His blue eyes flicked to her. A tiny bit of mischief glinted at their center. “I kind of want you all to myself.” His voice rumbled, low and husky.
Everly’s knees literally gave out. No one had ever talked to her like that.
She stumbled trying to catch her balance and bumped hard into the table. The legs scraped against the wood floor with an earsplitting screech and four stacks of jeans toppled to the ground.
She was a walking hurricane around this man. “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she groaned as she kneeled to clean her mess.
Logan erupted into laughter. It was so loud and joyous, somethingin her core loosened in response. Everly would have given both her kidneys to hear that laugh again. To have it recorded so she could play it on a loop. Make it her ringtone. Drift off to sleep to its (not-so) dulcet tones.
He stooped to help her. Their hands collided as they reached for the same pair of jeans, and a blush spread across Everly’s skin.
He studied her for a long moment, his lips pressed together. “What if we give Sady just a little? Some flirting, that banter she wants. Nothing major.”
Everly frowned. “What about everybody watching, commenting, thinking they have a right to weigh in on us? You really want to put up with that?”
“I think we can give Sady what she wants and still protect us. Not that she’d do anything to put the show—or its guests—at risk.” He gathered the newly folded pants from her hands and stacked them neatly on the table. Then he rose to his feet and reached down to help her do the same. His fingers were warm as they closed around hers.
“She wants this show to succeed. So do I.” He put so much feeling behind those last few words it set Everly’s heart galloping. “And there’s a lot riding on this season. If it performs well, we’re looking at a big bump in our per-episode salary. The extra money would help me a lot.”
Everly rubbed at her forehead. “This love stuff really makes for good TV, huh?”
“People get invested.”
He must have seen the doubt in her eyes because he stepped a little closer. The toe of his shoe tapped hers and stayed there. The most contact they could have at the moment without risking it getting captured on film.
“We can make this work for everyone.” His eyes were almost pleading. “We’ll be careful,” he promised. “Only show them what we’re willing to let them see.”
“All right.”
Everly was willing to compromise with the camera if it meant giving her and Logan a real chance.
“Shouldn’t the pattern be on top?”
Kisses and Hugs had a 180-degree mirror in their dressing room, and Sophie and Everly were standing in it. Sophie had her sketch pad open and Everly was staring at herself in a pair of loose-fitting, wide-leg pants in a vibrant (or, if she was being truly honest,garish) pink-and-cream floral. Because she was barely average height, the bottoms pooled around her wedge sandals. But she was more concerned about the cream-colored crop top they’d paired with it.
She narrowed her eyes at her reflection. She couldn’t decide if she didn’t like the outfit or if she simply wasn’t used to it. Which was how she’d felt about almost everything she’d tried on so far.
Turns out, obliterating your comfort zone was not such an easy task.
“You are not a fan,” Jazzy observed from behind them.
Everly glanced over her shoulder. “What? No. I’m adjusting to it.”
Logan threaded through the room, stopping beside Jazzy. “Oh, she hates it.” He lifted the camera, zooming in to get a close-up of Everly in the mirror. “Look at your face. It’s the same expression you made last week when Stanton brought in sushi, because you’d never tried it, and you could hardly choke it down.”
Everly’s heart jumped. She couldn’t get over how carefully he paid attention to her. How much hesaw.
“Okay. Fine. I’m not sure it’s for me.”
Sophie leaned against one of the mirrors and primed her pencil on her sketch pad. “Tell me why.”
“The pattern screams the sixties, which might be my least favorite fashion decade. But I also think I’d like some structure somewhere?”Everly pulled at the pants to show how loose they were, and then did the same with the top. “Even with all those flowy tops I love, I’d pair them with formfitting jeans, or half-tucked in a pencil skirt. Something to control the billowiness.”
