Page 46 of Falling for Mr. Grump, the Big City Billionaire

My phone buzzes for the fifth time this morning. Probably another text from the community group chat. I've been avoiding it since... well, since everything blew up. But when I finally check during a lull, my stomach drops.

URGENT: Unknown company moving forward with aggressive buyout on Seaside Cove. Emergency meeting needed ASAP.

The knife in my hand stills. Below that message is a barrage of panicked responses from other business owners.

This isn't just about my broken heart anymore. This is about my home. My community.

I grip the counter edge, taking deep breaths of ocean-salted air. Fine.

Fine. If Troy Bellamy thinks he can just waltz in here, steal my heart, and then steal my town…

He's got another think coming.

I grab my phone and start typing.

Emergency meeting. Tonight. 7PM at the Lighthouse Café. Spread the word.

Because if there's one thing that jerks like Troy never understand about small towns? We fight back.

The afternoon drags by slower than molasses in January. I've stress-cooked enough special fusion tacos to feed half of Seaside Cove, my mind running through a thousand scenarios about which corporate vulture is trying to swoop in and destroy our town.

Deep down, I know I'm being unfair blaming Troy without proof. The text just said "unknown company," but my heart's already convicted him. Maybe because it hurts less to be angry than to admit I miss him.

“Oh, great, you're totally burning the kimchi!” a voice startles me.

I jump, nearly dropping my spatula. Zoey's hanging halfway through my food truck window, her red hair falling in her face as she sniffs dramatically at the air.

"I am not."But I am.The smell of slightly charred cabbage makes me wince. "Don't you have a salon to run?"

"Don't you have food to not burn?" She reaches over and turns down my grill heat. "That's the third batch I've watched you massacre today. This is getting sad, babe."

"I'm not—" The spatula clatters against the grill. "Wait, you've been watching me?"

"Someone has to make sure you don't burn down your truck while you're too busy having your Troy-induced crisis."

"I am not having a …" I stop, squinting at her. "Have you been stress-eating my tacos again?"

"Maybe." She grabs another one from the warming tray. "But only because I'm worried about you. And because they're delicious, even when they're slightly charred."

I grab a clean pan, trying to ignore the knowing look in her eyes. Zoey's been my best friend since high school – she can read me like one of her gossip magazines.

"Actually," she says around a mouthful of taco, "I'm here about the meeting tonight. You really want to do this at the café? We could do it at my salon. I've got wine."

"No." I keep my eyes on the grill. "The café's more central. Plus, Katie's offering free coffee."

Katie’s the town treasurer and our biggest cafe owner. She told us about receiving an email with huge offers of money to sell off her land.

She obviously is against it and that’s why she is actively helping our course now.

"Uh-huh." She leans further into my truck. "And this has absolutely nothing to do with avoiding certain sexy CEOs who might be lurking at certain places?"

"I will ban you from taco privileges."

"No, you won't. You love me too much." She steals another taco. "But seriously, babe. Maybe hear the whole story before you go full scorched earth?"

She tilts her head giving me a look that says ‘you hear me, girl? Let’s not jump to conclusions.’

Then I watch her sashay back to her salon, probably to gossip with her afternoon clients.

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