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CHAPTER1
Meg
The afternoon sunfiltered through the wall of windows, casting a warm glow on the repurposed antique floorboards that served as my makeshift desk. I shoved another box against the exposed brick, wiping sweat from my brow as I surveyed my new space.
A string of tinsel left over from the previous tenants still clung to one of the exposed pipes, sparkling cheerfully in the sunlight. It seemed out of place with the industrial vibe, but I didn't have the heart to take it down yet. I'd always had a soft spot for even the most silly, cliche holiday decor. It was a bit of a mess, with half-unpacked equipment, vintage cameras scattered about, and piles of props waiting to find a home, but it was mine.
After years of roaming around from rental to rental, never quite feeling at home, I was determined to finally put down some studio roots in my old hometown of Seashell Cove.
It wasn’t exactly where I’d pictured myself ending up when I was young, full of artistic ambitions, ready to take on the world. But now, as a twice-divorced single mom whose babies had grown up way too fast, it felt like the right place to start over.
No place like home and all that.
I had just peeled the plastic off the small neon open sign to hang in the window when the front door flew wide. I nearly dropped the sign as I whipped around, prepared to give whoever barged in a piece of my mind. Instead, I came face to face with a ghost from my past.
Ryker West.
In worn jeans and a black button down, sleeves rolled up, revealing impressively toned forearms, he somehow looked even better than he did in high school. Casual, sexy, yet pulled-together in a way I never felt I’d been able to achieve.
He’d aged well, dammit.
Geez. How does that even happen. Men are so lucky.
His dark, wavy hair with threads of silver, coupled with slight crinkles around his eyes gave him a distinguished air his boyish looks once lacked. But his presence still dominated a room, with that confident tilt of the head and penetrating gaze.
“Well, well, if it isn’t Meg Daniels, the girl least likely to ever come back to her hometown,” he drawled, the slightest curl of amusement on his lips.
My hackles rose, back stiffening like a cranky cat. Ryker and I had a tumultuous history. We dated in high school, but we were also fiercely competitive with each other. Things had never been what I’d classify as easy with us.
I forced myself to relax, tossing him a playful smile, shoving aside old feelings. “Ryker West, Seashell Cove’s very own golden boy. Still shining bright, I see. Just couldn't resist the allure of small town fame, could ya?”
He laughed. “Touché. I heard you'd moved back to town. Didn't believe it until now,” he said, stepping farther into the studio, invading my space, taking up all the air.
He always stole all the air.
He’d been larger than life to my high school heart. Apparently, some things didn’t change. Ryker gestured around at the mess. “So you really went all in with this photography thing, huh?”
I crossed my arms. “What, surprised I didn’t just stay married and pop out babies until I expired? Sorry to disappoint.”
He held up his hands in mock defense. “Hey now, retract the claws, no need to attack. I’m just here on business.”
“Business?” I arched a brow.
“Yea. Seems I need a photographer, ASAP. My company’s Christmas gala is in a few weeks and the dumbass I booked bailed. I remember you were snapping pictures constantly back in the day. When I heard you blew back in town, figured it couldn’t hurt to look you up and see if you were still doing it.”
I fought the involuntary smile tugging at my lips. The cool, commanding Ryker West, asking lil old me for a favor? This was too good. High school Ryker was too proud to ask anyone for anything. He demanded and people jumped.
Except you, Meg old girl.
Clearly, teenage habits died hard. “So… you want me to just drop everything and photograph your corporate holiday shindig?” I gestured at the chaos around the room. “I’m barely unpacked here. Should I wear a festive tutu too? Maybe a little elf hat? It’s Christmas, after all.”
Ryker crossed his arms, mimicking my stance. Damn him and those sexy, cut forearms.
Whyyyy, God. Whyyyy do men get to age so well?
He cleared his throat and interrupted my inner whine fest. “No need for a tutu. Name your price, Meg. Please. I’m kind of in a bind here.” His tone was gruff and growly, deeper than I remembered. It sent a tiny shiver of awareness along my spine and made my libido perk up and say cheese.
Down, girl. You are so not getting involved with a man again. Let alone your high school flame. Nuh uh.
