Page 5 of Faking it with my Bad Boy Crush

"I don't know."

I pulled up the property report on my tablet, scanning the list of potential acquisitions. There—Honey & Hearth Bakery, flagged for permit irregularities, ownership complications, and financial vulnerability.

Of course it was on the list.

"It's being evaluated," I said, keeping my voice professional. "Along with several other properties."

“The owner, Manuel, passed away two years ago." Richard's voice held genuine sorrow. "His granddaughter is running it now. Maya. She's working herself to the bone trying to keep it afloat, but the permit issues are making it hard to compete for contracts. The bakery's building is prime real estate—waterfront property, good foot traffic. I imagine your investors would love to acquire it."

Maya. The name hit me like a punch to the chest. The fourteen-year-old girl with dark curls and honey-brown eyes who used to do homework at the bakery counter. Who’d looked at eighteen-year-old me, cheeks flushed, as if I were worthsomething—during the very months I was working off the damage I’d done to her grandfather’s property.

She'd be thirty-four now. All grown up. Running the bakery.

And I was here representing people who wanted to take it from her.

"The investment group operates ethically," I said, but my voice sounded hollow even to my own ears. "If the current owner wants to sell—"

"She doesn't." Richard's tone was final. "Maya Romano loves that bakery like it's her own child. Went to the chef academy in Seattle, then came back after Manuel passed. She’s fought for the bakery for years. But fighting doesn't matter much when you can't afford lawyers to deal with permit issues, does it?"

The implication was clear. I could help—use my legal expertise to fix the problems, protect the bakery, do something good with the skills I'd spent twenty years developing.

Or I could do my job. Identify the vulnerability, report back to the investment group, let them make an offer Maya couldn't refuse because the alternative was losing everything anyway.

"I'll keep that in mind," I said carefully.

Richard studied me for a long moment, and I had the uncomfortable feeling my old mentor could see straight through every carefully constructed wall I'd built.

I stood, extending my hand. "Thank you for the coffee. I'll see you at the meeting tonight."

Richard shook my hand, his grip still strong despite his age. "Ethan? For what it's worth—I'm glad you came back. Even if the reason isn't ideal. This island has a way of showing people who they really are. Maybe it's time you looked."

I spent the afternoon reviewing files in my hotel room, trying to focus on market analyses and property valuations instead of the growing knot in my stomach.

Honey & Hearth Bakery appeared in three separate reports. The building was valuable. It was located on the waterfront, had good bones, could be renovated into high-end retail or residential units. The business itself was barely profitable, weighed down by outdated equipment and permit complications that made competing for major contracts nearly impossible.

On paper, it was exactly the kind of acquisition the investment group specialized in: a struggling family business with valuable real estate, ripe for buyout and redevelopment.

On paper, Maya Romano should be relieved someone wanted to take this burden off her hands.

But I remembered the way fourteen-year-old Maya had looked at her grandfather, with uncomplicated love and fierce pride. I remembered Manuel talking about his granddaughter while I swept floors and repaired display cases, the old man's voice warm with affection.

“She has a gift,” Manuel had said. “Not just for baking, but for seeing people. She finds the good in them—the truth of who they are—even when they’ve lost sight of it themselves.”

Even in an angry eighteen-year-old who'd tried to destroy everything her grandfather had built.

I closed my laptop and pressed the heels of my hands against my temples.

Forty-eight hours. Do the job. Leave.

That was the plan. That was always the plan.

So why did it already feel like I was making the biggest mistake of my life?

My phone buzzed. A calendar reminder:Community Meeting - 7:00 PM - Lopez Island Community Center - MANDATORY ATTENDANCE.

I straightened my tie, grabbed my briefcase, and headed for the door.

It was time to face the island—and the consequences of coming back.