Page 43 of Falling for Mr. Grump, the Big City Billionaire

"How much did Drew tell you?" I ask, accepting the coffee mug she offers. It's handmade, probably from that pottery shop next to Skye's usual parking spot. Everything in this town seems to connect back to her.

"Enough." Meg leans against the counter, studying me. "But I'd rather hear your version. Why are you really here, Troy?"

"You know why. The expansion plan—"

"No." She cuts me off with a wave. "Why areyouhere? Not the CEO of Bellamy Hotels. Not Drew's brother. You."

The coffee burns my tongue, but I welcome the pain. It's easier than answering her question. Willow gurgles happily in her crib, and Elliott is playing on the floor with his trucks, oblivious to the tension.

"I had a plan," I finally say. "Come to town quietly. Assess the situation. Make the deal happen quickly and cleanly. No mess, no complications."

"And instead, you fell for Skye Martinez."

Her directness makes me flinch. "I didn't—"

"Oh, please." Meg rolls her eyes. "The whole town's been watching you two dance around each other for weeks. Even Mrs. Chen at the market is taking bets on when you'll finally kiss her."

Heat crawls up my neck. "That's not... We didn't..."

"Troy." Meg's voice softens. "I grew up in this town. My sister Mia and I inherited that inn from our grandfather. Do you know why I fell in love with Drew?"

I raise an eyebrow, wondering where she's going with this.

"Because when he came here with the same corporate plans you had, he saw past the potential profit margins. He saw what makes this place special. The community. The history. The way everyone looks out for each other." Picking up Willow to cuddle, she continues: "and I see the way you look at Skye's food truck. The same way Drew used to look at the inn."

"It's different," I protest weakly. "The board, my sisters …"

"Are the same obstacles Drew faced." Meg sets her mug down with a decisive clink. "You know what your brother did? He found a way to balance both worlds. The inn still belongs to my family, but Bellamy Hotels helps with marketing, bookings, and modern amenities. We maintained our independence while gaining resources."

Something stirs in my mind – the beginning of an idea.A partnership instead of a buyout?

"Now you're thinking like a Bellamy who's in love, not just a CEO." Meg grins at my startled expression. "Oh, don't even try to deny it. I've seen you eat at that food truck three times in one day. Drew said you hate street food."

"Her fusion tacos are innovative," I mutter, but my mind is already racing ahead, seeing possibilities I'd been too focused on the original plan to consider.

"Troy." Meg's voice pulls me back. "You know what else Drew did when he realized he was in love with me?"

"What?"

"He told me the truth. Before anyone else could. Before it was too late." She gives me a pointed look. "Food for thought."

I stand abruptly, nearly knocking over my coffee. "That’s a bit too late Meg, right now I only hope she gives me a chance to make things right. I need to make some calls."

"Of course you do." Meg's smile is knowing. "And Troy? When you figure out your new plan – because I know you're already forming one – remember something: Skye's not just fighting for her food truck. She's fighting for her home. Like I did. Like Mia did."

I pause at the kitchen door, looking back at my sister-in-law and niece, and at this slice of life my brother chose over corporate success. Yet somehow, he ended up with both.

"Thank you," I say quietly.

"Don't thank me. Just don't screw it up." She turns Willow around to face me and pretend-waves her chubby little hand. "And Troy? Maybe change into something less CEO-ish before you try to fix things. The power suits aren't really working for you here."

I laugh at that, the first real laugh since everything fell apart on that pier. As I head to my car, my phone is already in my hand, scrolling through contacts. I have calls to make, plans to revise, and a heart to unbreak.

But first, I need to figure out exactly what makes Skye Martinez's fusion tacos so unforgettable. Because somehow, I suspect that's the key to understanding everything else about this town.

***

Back in my room at the inn, I've transformed the antique writing desk into a makeshift war room. My laptop displays financial projections while papers cover every available surface. My jacket's draped over the chair, sleeves rolled up – a sure sign I've been at this for hours.

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