Page 11 of Faking it with my Bad Boy Crush

Then I shut off my phone, grabbed my briefcase, and walked out into the cool island night.

The Lopez Island I'd fled twenty years ago looked the same as it ever had—small, quiet, full of people who knew each other's names and histories. People like Maya Romano, who'd built lives here that mattered, who'd chosen community over individual success, who fought to preserve legacy instead of abandoning it.

People who were everything I'd spent twenty years trying not to be: rooted, committed, brave enough to stay.

I'd come back to Lopez Island thinking I was someone different. Someone successful, someone who'd escaped my past and built something better.

But standing in the parking lot of the community center, watching the taillights of islanders driving home to their families and their lives, I realized I'd been wrong.

I hadn't become someone better. I'd just become someone more expensive.

And Maya Romano—the girl who had once seen the good in me, even when I was eighteen and intent on destroying everything—had finally seen the man I’d become.

The worst part was, I had seen the disappointment in her eyes.

What was I supposed to do with that?

Chapter four

The Weight of Legacy

Maya

Ethan Caldwell.

The name felt like a betrayal on my tongue. The angry eighteen-year-old my grandfather had forgiven, the one who'd been given a second chance and then disappeared without so much as a thank you. And now he was back, twenty years later, wearing an expensive suit and working for the exact kind of corporate vultures who wanted to pick Lopez Island clean.

The irony was almost funny. Almost.

I pulled into the driveway of my house—a small cottage three blocks from the bakery, close enough to walk to work but far enough to feel like home. I'd bought it five years ago with a loanfrom the local credit union, proving to myself and everyone else that I was committed to staying, to building a life here.

I unlocked the door, dropped my keys on the hall table, and immediately headed for my home office.

I pulled out my laptop and the physical files I kept on the bakery's legal issues. Permit applications, property surveys, the ongoing boundary dispute with my neighbor Gerald Hutchins. I spread everything across my desk, my mind already organizing information, identifying weak points, planning my defense.

This was what I did. When other people panicked, I strategized.

My phone rang. Tessa's face filled the screen.

"Tell me you didn't actually call him a corporate shark in front of the entire island," she said without preamble.

"I translated his corporate speak for everyone. That's different." I pulled up the property dispute file on my laptop, scanning dates and documentation It seemed like all started six months ago, right when the investment group had started making inquiries about Lopez Island properties.Interesting timing.

"You're my hero. Describe the look on his face for me.”

“He looked like I’d slapped him. Which he would have deserved, don’t get me wrong. And yeah, he’s exactly the kind of guy you’re imagining. No, actually, worse. Even more expensive suit.”

"So, what's the plan? Because I know you have a plan. You always have a plan."

"I'm going through every document related to the permit issues. If there's a legal angle to exploit, I need to find it before they do." My voice was clinical, controlled. "I also need to research Ethan Caldwell's career. Know your enemy and all that."

"Smart. Want me to come over? I can bring wine and moral support."

"Rain check? I need to focus, that can be difficult when you're making commentary."

"Fine. But babe?" Her voice softened. "Don't let this consume you. You've been fighting for seven years. It's okay to be tired."

"I'm not tired. I'm angry. And angry Maya is dangerous. Most chefs crumble—“