Page 9 of Faking it with my Bad Boy Crush

Richard Sterling stood off to the side, watching with an expression I couldn't quite read. The old lawyer had introduced me warmly—"one of our own who made it in the city"—but I caught the underlying message:Don't embarrass me. Don't embarrass yourself. These are good people.

"Good evening," I began, my voice steady and professional. I'd practiced this presentation a dozen times. Keep it positive. Emphasize opportunity. Make them see the investment group as partners, not threats. "Thank you for taking the time to hear about economic development opportunities for Lopez Island."

I clicked to the first slide: a beautiful aerial photo of the San Juan Islands at sunset, all-natural beauty and untouched charm.

"The San Juan Islands are a treasure. Everyone in this room knows that. You've built something special here—a community that values tradition, local business, and quality of life." I scanned the crowd as I spoke, making eye contact, reading the room. "But you also face challenges. Rising costs. Increased competition from mainland businesses. Aging infrastructure. Difficulty attracting younger generations to take over family operations."

Heads nodded. This was the truth, and they knew it.

"The investment group I represent specializes in helping communities like yours navigate these challenges. We identify properties with potential—businesses that are struggling not because of lack of quality, but because of lack of resources." I clicked to the next slide, a chart showing tourism growth in the San Juan Islands over the past decade. "Tourism to this region has increased by forty-three percent in the last ten years. But many local businesses haven't been able to capitalize on that growth because they lack access to capital, legal resources, or business infrastructure."

A hand shot up in the back. I nodded. "Yes?"

"So, you're saying we're not good enough to run our own businesses?" The man's voice was sharp, defensive.

"Not at all. I'm saying that running a business in today's economy requires resources many family operations don't have access to. The investment group provides those resources—legal support, capital improvements, business systems—while preserving what makes these businesses special in the first place."

It sounded good. It always sounded good. I'd given variations of this speech across three different states, and it usually worked. People wanted to believe their struggles weren't their fault, that help was available, that selling to investors was a smart business decision rather than a defeat.

But something felt different here. Maybe it was the way people were looking at me—not like a solution, but like a threat. Maybe it was Richard's quiet presence, a reminder that these weren't just potential acquisitions on a spreadsheet. They were Richard's neighbors, his friends, people he'd known for decades.

Or maybe it was the woman in the front row who was glaring at me with such focused intensity that I could feel it from fifteen feet away.

I'd noticed her when I first stepped up to present. Hard not to—she was sitting front and center, arms crossed, her posture radiating disapproval. Even sitting down, it was obvious she was shorter than average, maybe 5'2", but she commanded space like someone much taller. Dark brown hair pulled back in a neat braid, olive complexion, curvy build. She wore a simple white button-down and jeans, nothing flashy, but there was something about her that drew the eye. I could tell she was someone who worked with their hands.

Her light brown eyes—the color of aged whiskey or strong tea—were locked on me with an expression that clearly saidI see exactly what you're doing, and I'm not buying it.

I forced my attention back to the presentation, clicking through slides about economic impact, job creation, and preservation of local character. But I kept finding my gaze drawn back to the woman in the front row.

Something about her felt familiar. The set of her jaw, the way she held herself, the intensity of her focus. Had I met her before? At another presentation? Through the firm?

"Our goal is partnership, not takeover," I continued, though the words felt hollow even as I said them. "We want to help Lopez Island businesses thrive, not replace them. We're looking for owners who are ready for support, ready to take their operations to the next level—"

"With all due respect," a voice cut through my presentation, clear and controlled, "that's corporate speak for 'we want to buy you out.'"

The woman in the front row had stood. She was even shorter standing than I'd guessed, but somehow, she seemed to fill the entire room. Every head turned toward her.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name," I said, though my heart had started pounding for reasons I couldn't explain.

"Maya Romano." She said it clearly, making sure everyone heard. "Honey & Hearth Bakery."

It took a second for my memory to catch up to the real person standing in front of me.

She wasn't fourteen anymore. She was thirty-four, and she was standing in front of half the island calling me out.

The recognition must have shown on my face because something like satisfaction flickered in her expression. But then her jaw tightened, and her light brown eyes narrowed even more.

"Let me translate 'revitalize' and 'partnership' for everyone," Maya continued, her voice carrying easily through the now-silent room. She had the kind of presence that came fromsomeone used to being heard, used to commanding kitchens or meetings or situations. "It means identify struggling businesses, exploit their vulnerabilities, make offers they can't refuse because the alternative is losing everything anyway. Then rebrand the properties, raise the prices, and push out the locals who can't afford the 'revitalized' version."

Murmurs spread through the crowd. I saw heads nodding, people leaning forward.

"That's not—" I started, but Maya wasn't finished.

"Look, I understand business. I get that sometimes companies need investment, need support. But let's be honest about what this is." She gestured toward my presentation. "This isn't about helping us. It's about identifying valuable real estate wrapped up in struggling businesses, and figuring out how to acquire that real estate as cheaply as possible. We're not partners in this scenario. We're inventory."

The room exploded with side conversations. I saw Richard close his eyes briefly, and I knew I'd lost the room.

More importantly, I'd underestimated Maya Romano.