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Such a simple touch, but it ignited flickers of fire up and down my spine and fluttery sensations in my belly. I gripped my purse and focused on keeping my breathing even and controlled.
Chill, Meg. He’s only touching your back. Geez.
Outside the cafe, we said polite goodbyes, retreating behind our respective walls. I needed to clear my head, so I decided to walk along the downtown area and see what was new.
Not much from what I could tell.
Seashell Cove itself was tiny, with one main street through the town square, and a few side streets, all leading to the beach or into the city. Wealthy estates mixed with smaller cottages peppered the area. It was known at Christmas time for its kitschy holiday decor and razzle dazzle lights, usually with some kind of surf and sand theme.
Totally cheesy and over the top, but locals and tourists alike loved it. As I walked, I couldn’t stop thinking about Ryker’s confession, and what it might mean.
Revealing I wasn’t the only one so affected by that kiss gave me dangerous hope I didn’t want to feel in the first place. I couldn't risk being vulnerable and caught up in a guy again, no matter how alluring the man or how strongly my body reacted to his. All of those things would only distract me from the opportunity this assignment presented.
My chance to finally achieve my goals.
My chance to finally put me first.
My chance to prove myself, to myself.
Laser focus, Meg.
As a breeze whipped the smell of salt across my face, my traitorous heart whispered,but what if?
Maybe, just maybe, it would be worth the leap to let Ryker into my heart again. We were good together once, even if wewereyoung and tempestuous.
Though the guarded part of me feared risking further heartbreak and losing myself again, the other part of me, the young girl still in high school part of me, wondered if maybe Ryker could be different… if I only could work up the courage to let him try.
CHAPTER6
Meg
Time flew,and before I knew it, the day of our formalwear appointment arrived. I guess I’d been so caught up in editing photos from our last shoot and doing some family Christmas portraits for a couple new clients, I got sidetracked.
Hyper focus was one of the biggest reasons I had to keep a huge wall calendar right where I could see it everyday, or I’d miss alotof shoots.
I hummed to myself as I rushed to finish some last minute straightening up around the studio. Then I made a mad dash to the tiny apartment I rented in the back and did a quick wardrobe change.
Shimmying out of my oldest, most faded pair of ripped jeans, swapping them for slightly more professional black ones, I exchanged my black Rolling Stones tee for a gray, soft, slouchy sweater and slipped on black ankle boots.
Throwing my hair up in a messy top knot, I stood back to assess in the mirror with a critical eye. I had a few more lines in my face and my curves were a little fuller these days, but overall, I was satisfied with how I looked. With age came wisdom, and I wouldn’t give that up for anything.
It was hard won.
I glanced down at my watch as I rushed back into the studio, oddly excited for Ryker's arrival. I knew I shouldn’t be, I’d scolded myself for it umpteen times already, but it didn’t deter the extra bounce in my step or the Christmas elves building a gingerbread house in my belly.
Things between us since the beach kiss were… complicated, to say the least. That, combined with the weird abrupt end to our coffee date and his sudden confession, had me all tied up in knots.
Talk about whiplash.
I still didn't know what to make of his admission. Frankly, most of me was terrified to find out. And he hadn’t called or came by since, all communications were sent through good old Jeremy.
Just as well.
Work was work, and I was determined to keep things professional today. I braced myself for Maximum Awkwardness and resolved to smooth over any lingering funk as best I could, so this photoshoot would go off without a hitch. Ryker's gala was too important for my business here in Seashell Cove to mess it up with personal drama.
At precisely 9am, a brisk knock sounded at the studio door. I called out, "It's open!" and busied myself inspecting a camera lens, heartbeat kicking up a notch.
Ryker strode in, looking unfairly handsome as always. He was dressed casually in dark washed jeans and a black button-down that hugged his sculpted muscles in all the right places, with a wardrobe bag slung over his shoulder.
