Page 59 of Faking it with my Bad Boy Crush

"You're stressed, you're preparing in your head, and you shouldn't be navigating while distracted." She grabbed my laptop bag. "Come on. We're going to win this."

The island community center was more crowded than I'd expected for an emergency council session. Not just council members, but community members were filling the gallery—the same people who'd celebrated Friday's victory at the coffee shop, the ones who'd watched Ethan expose fraud in that Friday Harbor courtroom.

Emily Russell caught my eye from her council seat, giving me a small, encouraging nod. But I also saw the skeptical expressions on other council members' faces—the ones who'd voted to move up this presentation, who viewed controversy as liability rather than principle.

"Ms. Romano." Tom Fletcher, the council president, gestured to the presentation podium. "Thank you for coming on short notice. As you know, we're conducting an emergency review of Sweetheart Week vendor contracts in light of recent events. We'd like to hear your presentation for the signature culinary vendor position."

Recent events. Such a careful, neutral way to describe fraud exposure and legal battles.

I set up my laptop, connecting it to the projector with hands that were steadier than I felt. Then I pulled up the business plan—the one Ethan and I had built together, the one that documented everything I'd accomplished.

"Thank you for this opportunity," I began, my voice clear and professional. "I'm Maya Romano, owner and head pastry chef of Honey & Hearth Bakery. I'm here to present why my business is the ideal signature culinary vendor for Sweetheart Week."

I clicked to the first slide—my credentials, laid out in stark, impressive detail.

"I graduated top of my class from the Culinary Institute of America with a focus on pastry arts. Following graduation, I completed a prestigious year-long internship at Pastéis de Belém in Lisbon, Portugal—one of the world's most renowned bakeries, famous for inventing pastéis de nata over two hundred years ago. I was one of only three international students selected that year."

I saw several council members sit up straighter, their expressions shifting from skeptical to interested.

"After completing my internship, I worked for four years in Seattle's competitive restaurant scene, rising from pastry commis to senior pastry chef at Canlis by age twenty-seven. For those unfamiliar, Canlis is consistently ranked among the best restaurants in the Pacific Northwest. As senior pastry chef, I led a team of six, developed seasonal menus, and maintained the standards that earned Canlis multiple culinary awards."

Click. Next slide—my decision to come home, framed as strategic choice rather than sacrifice.

"Seven years ago, I chose to return to Lopez Island and take over Honey & Hearth Bakery. Not because my Seattle career had failed, but because I saw an opportunity to bring world-class culinary technique to a family business with fifty years of tradition."

I pulled up the revenue graphs—the ones showing fourteen percent year-over-year growth, the tripling of revenue since I'd taken over.

"Since assuming ownership, I've transformed Honey & Hearth from a marginally profitable family operation to a thriving business with partnerships across the San Juan Islands. We supply twelve restaurants, six hotels, and participate in eight farmers markets throughout the summer season. Our Portuguese specialties—particularly the pastéis de nata—have become destination items, with tourists planning trips specifically to try them."

I advanced to customer testimonials, reviews, and awards from regional food publications.

"We've been featured in Pacific Northwest Magazine, Seattle Met, and Island Living. We hold a five-star rating on every review platform. And we've built this success while maintaining the traditional recipes and values that have made Honey & Hearth a community institution for five generations."

Tom Fletcher leaned forward. "These are impressive credentials, Ms. Romano. But we're concerned about recent publicity. The fraud case, the courtroom testimony, the media coverage—some council members worry that association with controversy might overshadow Sweetheart Week's family-friendly image."

There it was. The real concern, finally spoken aloud.

I closed the laptop, setting it aside. This required looking directly at them, not hiding behind slides and data.

"Let me tell you a story," I said, my voice steady. "Three weeks ago, I discovered that my family's business—a bakery that's served this community for fifty years—was being deliberately targeted by a mainland investment group. They falsifiedproperty surveys. They manufactured legal complications. They coordinated a campaign to create vulnerabilities they could exploit."

I saw several council members shift uncomfortably.

"I had two choices. Accept the predatory sale offer and walk away with something. Or fight back, expose the fraud, and risk losing everything if I couldn't prove what they'd done." I met their eyes, one by one. "I chose to fight. And I'm not apologizing for that choice."

"But the controversy—" someone started.

"The controversy exists because I refused to be victimized quietly," I cut them off. "Because I hired a lawyer who had the integrity to expose fraud even when it cost him his career. Because we believed that protecting a local business from corporate predation mattered more than avoiding publicity."

I picked up my laptop again, pulling up one more slide—projected revenue from Sweetheart Week.

"Honey & Hearth can generate thirty thousand dollars in revenue during Sweetheart Week through our specialized offerings—heart-shaped pastéis de nata, Portuguese love cakes, traditional bolo de mel from Madeira. These aren't just desserts, they’re cultural experiences that align perfectly with Sweetheart Week's emphasis on tradition and romance."

I advanced to the next slide—economic impact projections.

"As signature culinary vendor, I can drive tourism traffic to other island businesses. Partner with local hotels for special packages. Offer workshops that bring visitors back multiple times. The economic benefit extends far beyond my bakery's revenue."

I closed the laptop and looked directly at the council.