The seaside village of Havenbrook greeted Ava Bennett with salty air and a clear warning that she was not welcome. Her fancy shoes clicked too loudly on the old wooden pier, and every stride she took was out of rhythm with the town's relaxed pace. The sea in front of her seemed to go on forever, with fishing boats bobbing like kids and churning waves breaking against them. Yes, it was picturesque, but to Ava, it was just another background—one more element in a long list of things that needed to be controlled, refined, and perfected.
She balanced her tablet against her chest and pulled her blazer tighter against the chilly wind. The wedding of the year, or at least the Havenbrook wedding of the year, depended on her. And Ava Bennett was always successful.
Suddenly, her phone buzzed.
"Weddings in Bennett?" she replied sharply.
"Ms. Bennett, we just had a slight… situation," her local assistant's voice stumbled over the words. "One of the flower arches gave way."
With clenched teeth, Ava forced patience through a sharp intake of breath. "In five minutes, I'll be there. Keep everything in its proper place until I arrive."
"Why does nothing ever go as planned?" she muttered to herself as she hung up the phone.
As she hurried down the dock toward the event space, she nearly stumbled over a man who was crouching low with a camera, his lens aimed at the horizon.
"Observe it!" she exclaimed, jerking her tablet against her chest to prevent it from falling.
He didn't even flinch. His fingers made precise adjustments to the dials as he leaned closer to the waterline. His faded shirt clung to a body that exuded effortless strength, and the wind ruffled his dark hair. Eventually, he lowered the camera and looked up.
He apologized, but his voice was more preoccupied than contrite. "The light is ideal at the moment. I wanted to avoid losing it."
Ava blinked at him, incredulous. "You nearly made me drop thousands of dollars' worth of equipment because of… lighting?"
His eyes moved over her, lingering on the tablet before returning to her face. He seemed to live in a world far removed from deadlines and schedules, his eyes stormy and unconcerned.
He shrugged and remarked, "Some things can't be repeated—sunsets, waves, moments."
"Well, some of us have professional jobs." She brushed past him, whirling on her heel.
The sound of the camera clicking again came from behind her.
"Have you just—" she turned quickly.
With the slightest smirk tugging at his lips, he lowered his camera. "It appeared you were struggling against the wind. The experience was fascinating."
"You took my photo without my permission?" Her voice rose with outrage.
"Calm down. Only light and shadow are present—nothing personal."
Ava's phone buzzed once more before she could respond. Another emergency. Deciding he wasn't worth any more of her time, she turned away.
However, her assistant hurried forward, looking pale, as she strode into the venue—a restored boathouse decorated with fairy lights and half-collapsed flowers.
"This is the new photographer, Ms. Bennett," the couple insisted.
Ava stopped and turned slowly. There he was again, a camera draped across his chest, with storm-gray eyes that met hers with a calmness that made her angry.
He extended his hand. "Ethan Cole. I guess we'll be collaborating."
Ava's heartbeat faltered. Of all the small towns in the world, fate had thrown him into her path.
She refused to shake his hand. "This is going to go horribly wrong."
Ethan grinned more broadly, as if he welcomed the challenge. "Depending on your perspective."