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  Snapping Up Love

  Insta Love Shy Girl Romance #3

  By Haley Travis

  Copyright 2019 Haley Travis. All rights reserved. Cover design by Lexie Renard.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted or duplicated in any form whatsoever without express written permission of the author. This book is intended for sale to adults only. This is a work of fiction. Any similarities to actual people or specific locations or details is completely coincidental, or intended fictitiously. All characters are over 18, no sex partners are related, all sex is consensual. This is fantasy. In the real world, everyone practices safe sex at all times. Right? Right.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  The Series

  Chapter One - Chelsea

  Chapter Two - Ben

  Chapter Three - Chelsea

  Chapter Four - Ben

  Chapter Five - Chelsea

  Chapter Six - Ben

  Chapter Seven - Chelsea

  Chapter Eight - Ben

  Chapter Nine - Chelsea

  Epilogue #1 - Chelsea

  Other Stories & About the Author

  ***

  Enjoy more of the “Up Love - Insta Love Shy Girl Romance” Series.

  #1 - Icing up Love

  When a cake decorator meets a former hockey player,

  the icing meets the ice in a whirlwind fast romance.

  #2 - Packing Up Love

  When a moving man falls for a damsel in distress,

  his overprotective urges are too heavy for a girl labeled, “Fragile”.

  #3 - Snapping Up Love

  Will an event photographer keep his focus when the perfect model steps into his life?

  #4 - Inking Up Love

  Can a tattoo artist keep his hands steady when the girl of his dreams walks in the door?

  #5 - Snipping Up Love

  When a billionaire visits a new hair stylist,

  ‘a little off the top’ becomes ‘over the top’ in an instant romance.

  CHAPTER ONE

  * Chelsea *

  Being surrounded by this many people was unnatural to me. I was flooded with the urge to run away. But when my best friend Dale asked for my help, I couldn’t say no. I knew this was good experience. If I’m going to be a professional photographer, I’m going to have to learn to deal with crowds, chaos, and speaking to strangers. So he talked me into photographing his performance art dance show, making sure that I was at the front of the space.

  Watching Dale take his place, I stepped up on a chair to get a shot over people’s heads. Dale began to spin into the center of the circle, bathed in orange and yellow lights.

  There had been all sorts of modern dance numbers over the past few hours, but now my high school buddy was leaping and contorting his body, taking up as much space as possible. He looked absolutely incredible, and I could have burst with pride.

  Straining my arms up higher, I got a few magical shots while he was leaping in mid-air. Then he burst into a flurry of spins that looked outright impossible.

  The audience went crazy, and I zoomed out to snap several shots showing how huge the crowd was. In the viewfinder it was hard to tell, so I looked across the space to see another huge camera snapping away on the other side.

  The photographer was looking around too, and I saw him notice me. He flashed me a grin and nodded. My knees buckled for a split second. I knew that face. Ben Hayes. The photographer whose style had most influenced my own. The man who shot the award-winning Tandaro Lewis campaign two years ago. The man who just opened his own studio.

  I was thinking of applying for an internship there, but he must be flooded with inquiries. Since I knew that mediocre photographers were a dime a dozen in Toronto, I’d been studying marketing and advertising as well as photography, hoping to round out my skill set so that I actually ended up employed. But with just two weeks of school left to go, I needed more real-world experience for my portfolio.

  Sneaking another glance at Ben, he was smiling at me. I turned away quickly, forcing myself to silence my inner screaming. He was far better looking than his photos had suggested, but it would be unprofessional for me to think of that now.

  Focusing back on Dale, I prepared for his signature series of spinning leaps at the end. Sure enough, the techno music swelled, the lights turned purple and green, and his fit, sinewy body sliced through the air.

  The crowd gasped in shock and delight, and I would be jumping up and down if my feet weren’t firmly planted to get every shot in perfect focus. When he struck a majestic pose at the end, they erupted in applause and screams.

  Dale looked to me and flashed the adorable grin that had made me giggle since high school English class when we couldn’t stop making Shakespeare jokes for two weeks straight, and lived on his mom’s grilled cheese sandwiches.

  He disappeared through the curtains into the makeshift backstage area, as I climbed down carefully, heading in his direction. I had barely gotten my lens cap on when Dale’s sweaty arms surrounded me, bouncing.

  “They liked it!” he squealed. “Did you see their faces?”

  “You were amazing,” I squealed back at him, hugging him half to death.

  “I have to go thank the lighting crew. They followed my notes perfectly.” He gave me a quick kiss on the cheek as he took off.

  I began to pull the event program out of my pocket to see who was next when a finger tapped my shoulder.

  Spinning, I looked up into the eyes I had seen in art magazines, on websites, and once in a while in my dreams. Ben Hayes was smiling at me. They weren’t the determined, sharp eyes from the screen at the moment though. They were deeper. Absolutely sexy. I found it difficult to take a full breath.

  “Hey. Quite the rig you’ve got there.” His voice was low, sultry, and the fact that he was checking out the camera in my hands made my stomach flutter.

  “Hi,” I said in a small voice. I quickly searched for something to say. “I’m surprised to see you covering this event.”

  He grinned, his dark eyes flashing. “I do a couple of volunteer gigs a year. This one is rather fun, actually.” Nodding down to my camera, he asked, “Are you covering the event for a media outlet?”

  I almost laughed, shaking my head. “No, I’m still in school. I’m just taking shots for my friend.”

  “The guy who just danced?”

  “Yeah. Dale Hamel.”

  Ben nodded. “I got a couple of great shots of him in mid-air.” Digging into his pocket, he handed me his business card. “Email me. I can send a few over so you can put together a set with shots from both sides.”

  “Wow, thanks. He’ll really appreciate that.”

  “I’d really like to see your shots as well,” he said.

  For a second I thought I hadn’t heard him correctly over the music starting for the next act. “Really?”

  “Yes. I’m always looking for new talent.”

  “Wow.” My voice was nearly a squeak. “Thank you.”

  He held out his hand. “Ben Hayes. But it seems like you know who I am.” He didn’t seem arrogant about that at all.

  I nodded. My hand felt tiny and chilly in his. “Chelsea Morris.”

  “Well, Chelsea, are you going to hang out here and get more shots of the other dance acts? Or are you wandering through the whole event?”

  “I haven’t decided yet.” I was slightly shocked that I was able to speak to him without stuttering. He was gorgeous in person, and I had no idea that he was so tall. At least six-three. His shoulders were so wide it was tricky not to stare.

  “I have to get to the Ultra Seven exhibit now,” he said. “I’m shooting as a favor for a friend. Want to come with me?”

  “Really? I
mean, sure.”

  “Maybe we could tag team the performance like we did at this one,” he said with a grin. “Different angles, different styles. Let’s go.”

  Ben Hayes was asking me to assist him. To shoot with him. But he was also looking at me with a flirty gleam in his eyes that I was at least twenty percent sure I wasn’t imagining. My hands were fluttering now, and I honestly didn’t know if I’d be able to hold myself together.

  “Just one second,” I said quickly, sending Dale a text so that he knew I was leaving.

  “Is that dancer guy your boyfriend?” Ben asked.

  An awkward laugh burst out like a cough. “No. Very old friends.” He instantly seemed relieved, which created a warm sparkle in my core.

  “Can’t be that old,” Ben chuckled, leading me out the back gate and down an alley. “You’re what...” He stared into my eyes for a moment. “Twenty-four?”

  “Twenty-one,” I whispered. He was so close to me that I could smell a slightly spicy fragrance, mixed with a distinct male scent that made me want to lean closer.

  As we walked down the alley, he pulled out a flask. “Whiskey. I’m not a huge drinker, but when I’m out for long shoots at night, one slug now and then keeps me warm.”

  He took a pull, then offered the metal bottle to me. I took the tiniest sip out of curiosity. The liquid burned down my throat, nearly making me go cross-eyed, but I did feel the warmth in a moment.

  Ben laughed. “Not your drink, is it?”

  “I’m not really a drinker, at all,” I confessed.

  “Then you’re cut off already,” Ben teased, flashing me a wink as he put away the flask and we turned onto the street.

  There was a huge commotion, and although my instinct was to cringe away from loud noises and crowds of people, Ben went straight toward it, taking my arm so we couldn’t be separated. “This is the exciting part,” he said with a huge grin. “We never know what might happen.”

  He was absolutely right. A photographer should always be scanning for a shot. I just couldn’t help that I was shy around crowds of people. Although I knew they weren’t aggressive, it was just a bunch of artsy people partying, it still seemed like a lot of big energy that I didn’t know how to handle.

  Before I knew what was happening, Ben had taken my hand and pulled me up onto a bench next to the main street. There was a parade float coming toward us, blasting music with people dancing all around it.

  “The mobile dance party,” Ben said, already taking shots. “I heard about this.”

  Checking my feet, I planted myself to make sure I had a solid foundation. Jamming my lens cap in my pocket, I surveyed the scene before raising my camera.

  “Hey,” Ben said, “How about I get the wide-angle shots, and you get close-ups of people dancing?”

  “Sure,” I said, already adjusting my zoom and starting to shoot.

  I tried not to think about the fact I was snapping away right beside Ben Hayes. I needed to concentrate and create my best work possible. Luckily, I had amazing subject matter. The dancers were covered in crazy makeup, glitter, feathers and fun fur in neon-bright colors.

  I realized I was grinning from ear to ear. The music was pumping straight through us as the float passed by just twenty feet away, and the absolute joy of the dancers was infectious.

  “Chelsea – look out!”

  I didn’t even have time to look at the strange noise behind me. I twisted in the air, then landed awkwardly on both feet, falling against Ben, who was somehow already on the ground in front of me. I turned to see a flood of huge men dressed like warriors running by with swords and other medieval weapons.

  Ben’s arms wrapped around me, yanking me out of the way until the coast was clear. Then he released the tension of his arms slightly, still holding me against him, looking concerned. “That asshole missed your head by an inch,” he practically spat. “Are you okay?”

  “I think so,” I said, checking myself. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  We were now completely surrounded by people, but with his arms around me, it was like being on my own little island of protection. Looking up into those deep, intense eyes, it felt like he didn’t want to let me go. I was shocked to realize I didn’t want that either. His hands slid along my back for a moment, in a gesture that felt like a caress. When I didn’t pull away, his hand began stroking my back, melting me into a puddle.

  “I’m so sorry I grabbed you so roughly,” Ben said softly, releasing me but keeping one arm around my shoulders. “They came running right behind you, and I thought you were either going to fall or take a sword to the skull.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “Are you okay? You landed really hard.”

  He flashed me a wide smile that was obviously fake, unnaturally showing far too many teeth. “I may have tweaked my bad ankle a bit. Let’s walk slowly to the Ultra Seven exhibit.”

  We weaved through the crowd together until there was an open space. Ben placed a hand on my shoulder for balance as he moved his foot in circles. “I sprained it badly a few years ago, and now and then it gets a bit touchy. I’ll be fine.”

  It was plain from his expression that he was in pain but trying not to show it. Digging in my purse, I pulled out a couple of anti-inflammatory painkillers. “Here. Pop these and in eighteen minutes it’ll be a bit better.”

  His deep, resonant laugh was an absolute delight. “Eighteen minutes? That is weirdly specific.”

  I shrugged. “Sometimes I get headaches so horrible that I’ve actually watched the clock.”

  Ben pulled out his flask to wash the pills down with whiskey. “I swear, I’m fully aware this is not a good idea. I promise not to do this often.” He chugged them down, then smiled at me. “Thank you. You’re very kind.”

  It was so bizarre that I was laughing and hanging out with a guy who didn’t even know he had been my unofficial mentor for the past two years. But he was treating me like a colleague. Even though he was staring at me much more intimately. Was I imagining that?

  “Okay, little drug pusher, let’s go.” Leading us down a side street, we came to an empty parking lot where a miniature stage was set up, with a huge white wall behind it for projections. They were also sculptures, and wandering costumed creatures interacting with both the stationary and projected artwork.

  “My friends put this exhibit together,” Ben said. “Photographing projections is always tricky though. We’ll need to–”

  “Make sure we don’t get the light beam from the projector in the shot unless it’s intentional,” I said, scanning the space.

  Realizing that I just interrupted him, I looked up at him in shock, but he was grinning. “Exactly. Where do you want to shoot from?”

  I pointed to the fire escape on the building next door. “A couple of overhead shots of the sculptures would be great from there, plus you could get some shots of the light beam near the height of the projector.”

  “You’re absolutely right.” He wiggled his foot for a moment. “The only thing is, I think those steps might make my ankle pretty angry.” Ben began looking around, but I rudely interrupted again.

  “What if I go high and you go low?” I really wanted to prove myself to him.

  CHAPTER TWO

  * Ben *

  Chelsea was absolutely fascinating. Volunteering to climb up a high metal ladder to get shots for a project I had just talked her into shooting was above and beyond the call.

  I knew that I was likely too old to be admiring her the way I was, and that a thirty-five-year-old should think twice before hitting on a young girl of twenty-one. But she was breathtaking. Something about the way her eyes focused so sharply when she was scanning for a composition actually made my stomach tighten.

  It was rare that I saw a woman who was both beautiful and truly cute at the same time. She was precisely the sort of woman I’d been hoping to meet someday. And she was already making me feel fiercely protective.

  “You’re sure? You’re okay with heights?”

&n
bsp; She nodded eagerly. “Trust me, I’ll get all of the shots you want.”

  “Okay, but if anything creaks or wobbles, get back down here immediately. Nothing is worth you getting hurt.”

  I was a bit nervous watching her climb the slim metal stairs. But once she was up on the landing, she seemed fine.

  I took a moment to watch her. She planted her feet before surveying the scene with the naked eye, then through her camera lens. It looked like she did absolutely everything by the book, until she began shooting. I noticed with delight that her hips began to move to the music, and she would sway slightly as she was framing a shot. Then she would freeze, take several shots, then instantly get back to the beat. It was as if she was drawing the energy of the space into herself while she shot.

  I began shooting the ground shots, slowly circling the perimeter while keeping my eye on Chelsea. I took one shot just for myself, of her concentrating on the main stage.

  As soon as she was safely back on the ground, she bounced up and down. “You’re going to love these shots!” she squealed. Her exuberance was inspiring as I led her away from the crowd.

  “Thank you so much for helping me,” I said. Her grin was absolutely radiant. “Hey, I have an idea. Just trust me for a moment.”

  I led her out to the street, so the chaos of the entire art festival was directly behind her head. Reaching out, I tousled her silky honey brown hair so that it was in chunky waves with the lights coming through it.

  “Wait – you can’t take a picture of me,” she whispered.

  “It’s just your eyes and hair. Trust me.”

  Lining up the shot, I realized that it was absolutely perfect for the festival’s promo next year. “Look over my shoulder,” I directed. “Then straight at the lens. Now think of a dirty joke that you would never tell me that makes you giggle.”

  Her eyes absolutely twinkled with mirth as I got the perfect shot.