“Oh. Right.” Her cheeks felt hotter than the breezy sixty-six degrees called for.

“So stop acting like a seventh grader with a crush and— Sly Sy, can I call you that?” Dean asked, shifting his focus to the tall, sweaty landscaping god who ambled over with a red thermos in his hand.

“You wouldn’t be the first,” called a woman with dark hair and a sweatshirt tied around her waist as she passed them with a wheelbarrow.

Silas lifted his thermos in a toast. The man appeared to be hard to offend. “What can I do for you, Dino?”

Dean went a shade of pink that Maggie had never seen.

When Silas lifted the thermos to take a long drink, Dean slapped her shoulder. “The hot guy gave me a nickname,” he whispered.

“Control yourself, lover boy,” she said, under her breath.

Reining in his caffeine-induced giddiness, Dean rested the tripod and digital camera on his shoulder. “If you’ve got a few minutes, we could get your intro interview out of the way.”

“I’ve got all the time in the world,” Silas promised. He dropped the thermos, swept off his baseball cap, and shoved a hand through golden waves. “How do I look?”

They both stared at him for a beat too long.

“Um,” Maggie said.

Dean giggled nervously.

“Fine. You look…fine,” she said. “I’ll just go check on the electrical inside.”

“Hang on,” Silas said.

“Freeze!” Dean said at the same time, snapping out of his flirt zone.

“I believe you promised you’d hold my hand,” Silas reminded her.

She feigned a wince. “Ooh. Didn’t get it in writing though, did you?”

“Workaholic Nichols will stand by and supervise,” Dean said, resetting the tripod and pointing the camera in Silas’s direction.

“That’s a small camera,” Silas observed.

“Small but mighty,” Dean told him.

“I was expecting TV cameras and those cool folding director’s chairs,” Silas admitted.

“Our production’s pretty lean,” Maggie explained, nudging him to the right so the camera would pick up more of the chaos behind him. “We use this camera for most of the interview footage. I’ve got a smaller one for selfie videos and shooting on the fly. Sometimes we shoot on our phones. And Dean has a drone.”

Silas was watching her with interest. It made her nervous all over again. She unhooked the lavalier mic from her shirt and held it out to him. But he made no move to take it.

“You gonna stand there and hold the man’s mic all day or are you going to hook him up?” Dean asked from behind the camera.

She turned around, stuck her tongue out at him, and then clipped the microphone to Silas’s T-shirt.

“This is just an introductory kind of interview. Dean or I will ask you questions, and you answer to the camera,” she said.

“I’m ready when you are,” he said with that trademark smile.