14. SKYE

Chapter fourteen

SKYE

My hands are shaking so badly I nearly drop my note cards. Twice.

"Stop fidgeting," I mutter to myself, pacing behind the town hall podium. The room's still empty, thank goodness, but in fifteen minutes it'll be packed with everyone I know – and they're all counting on me. No pressure or anything.

Troy's at the back of the room, setting up his fancy PowerPoint presentation. He looks irritatingly calm in his perfectly fitted suit, like he presents to rooms full of people every day. Which, okay, he probably does. Show-off.

I glance down at my own outfit – a navy sweater over my favorite sundress. Professional enough for a presentation but still me. At least, that's what Zoey said when she practically forced me into it this morning.

"The projector's ready," Troy calls out, and my stomach does that annoying flippy thing it always does when he talks. Traitor belly.

I'm about to answer when the doors open and people start filing in.

Oh, oh. This is really happening.

Mrs. Chen takes a seat in the front row, followed by Katie and what looks like half the town's business owners. Even Mr. Peterson is here, which means he's missing his sacred afternoon nap. The pressure in my chest doubles.

"Breathe," Troy whispers, suddenly right beside me. His hand brushes my lower back, so light I almost think I imagined it. "We've got this."

Easy for him to say. He's not the one whose entire community might think she's selling them out by partnering with a corporate CEO.

Mayor Roberts settles into his chair, adjusting his ancient wire-rimmed glasses. "Miss Martinez, Mr. Bellamy. You have the floor."

I step up to the podium, my heart hammering so loud I'm pretty sure everyone can hear it. The notes in my hands are starting to crumple. Great.

But then I look out at all these faces – people I've known my whole life, people who buy my fusion tacos and tell me about their grandkids and trust me with their morning coffee orders. These are my people. My town.

My scanning of the room freezes when I spot them. Lillian and Mona. Troy's sisters. The corporate sharks themselves look sleek and perfectly put together in designer suits that scream "we mean business."

This isn't just a town council presentation anymore. This is war.

Troy warned me they'd be here. "They're tough," he'd said, his voice a mix of respect and frustration. "They'll challenge everything." Now I get why he looked so stressed when he told me.

Lillian catches my eye, her gaze sharp as a laser. The kind of look that makes you want to simultaneously shrink and stand taller. Mona's scrolling on her tablet, probably fact-checking every single thing we're about to say before we even say it.

My fingers grip the edge of the podium so hard I'm pretty sure I'm leaving nail marks.

Breathe, Skye. Breathe.

I steal a quick glance at Troy. He's got that CEO poker face on, but I've learned to read the tiny muscle that twitches near his jaw when he's nervous. Right now, it's doing a full-on tap dance.

This presentation isn't just about saving Seaside Cove anymore. This is about proving to Troy's sisters that not every small town is just a potential profit margin. This is about showing them that communities have heart, have soul.

And if there's one thing I know how to do, it's to fight for what I believe in.

I take a deep breath, feeling my alter ego kick in. It’s the same sass that's helped me survive crazy lunch rushes and negotiate prime parking spots. It’s the same sass that made me fall for a billionaire CEO who's currently looking at me like I'm about to save the entire world.

Game on, Bellamy sisters.

I clear my throat and turn my body slightly towards Troy. Our shoulders brush – a tiny connection that sends a tiny spark through me. A reminder that we're in this together.

"Ready?" I whisper.

Troy's barely perceptible nod is all the confirmation I need.

And suddenly, I'm not nervous anymore. I'm ready to fight.

I clear my throat, straighten my shoulders, and give Troy a tiny nod.

Here goes nothing.

I open my mouth, and the words just… flow. Maybe it's the adrenaline, or maybe it's the fact that I've been thinking about this for weeks. Either way, I feel like I'm on fire.

"We all know how much Seaside Cove means to us," I start, my voice steady. "It's not just a town; it's our home. A place where we can raise our kids, start businesses, and live our best lives." I glance at Troy, who's giving me a supportive smile. "But lately, we've been facing some pretty serious threats."

I pause, letting the weight of my words sink in. "We've got big corporations eyeing our land, our businesses, even our way of life. They want to turn Seaside Cove into just another faceless tourist trap."

I can feel the tension in the room. People are shifting in their seats, their faces a mix of worry and anger. Good. I want them to feel it.

"But we're not going to let that happen," I declare, my voice rising. "We're going to fight back! We're going to show them what Seaside Cove is really about."

I turn to the projector screen, where the first slide of Troy's presentation is displayed. It's a beautiful image of the town square, bathed in warm afternoon light. "This is our town," I say, pointing at the screen. "This is what we're fighting for."

I can feel the Bellamy sisters watching me, their eyes narrowed. I just smile back, sweet and innocent, while my brain is already plotting their downfall.

"And this," I say, moving on to the next slide, "is our plan."

I launch into a detailed explanation of the strategy, my voice filled with confidence.

"We're not just here to talk about dollars and cents," I say, my voice growing stronger. "We're here to talk about history, about community, about the soul of this town. And yes, about sustainable economic development."

I pause, letting the weight of my words sink in. "We propose designating key historical buildings and sites as protected landmarks. The old fishing pier, the lighthouse, the antique shop – these places are more than just structures. They're the heart and soul of Seaside Cove."

I glance at Troy, who's nodding in agreement. He's got that CEO look back on, but I can see the flicker of something else in his eyes – a hint of admiration, maybe even understanding.

"But we also need to think about the future," I continue. "We need to support small businesses, attract tourists, and protect our natural resources. We can do this by creating a vibrant community that celebrates its heritage while embracing the future."

I pause, taking a deep breath. "By working together, we can ensure that Seaside Cove remains a thriving, sustainable community for generations to come."

I can see the skepticism on some faces, but I don't let it deter me. I keep talking, faster and faster, my words tumbling out like a waterfall.

When I finally finish, the room is silent. Then, Mayor Roberts coughs, breaking the tension. "Well, Miss Martinez, that was… quite a presentation."

Oh, he's trying to be sarcastic. I can smell it.

"I know it's a lot to take in, Mayor Roberts," I say, my voice dripping with fake sweetness. "But we've put a lot of thought into this. We believe it's the best way to ensure Seaside Cove's future."

The room erupts in a flurry of questions.

"What about property values?" someone shouts from the back. "Won't this hurt our investments?"

"How will this affect our taxes?" another voice chimes in.

I exchange a worried glance with Troy. These are tough questions, and we need to answer them carefully.

"Great questions," I say, trying to calm the crowd. "Let's address them one by one."

I turn to Troy, who steps forward with a confident smile. "Regarding property values, our plan actually aims to increase them. By preserving the town's unique character and investing in infrastructure, we'll attract more visitors and residents, which will drive up demand for housing and commercial properties."

He pauses, letting his words sink in. "And as for taxes, we're committed to keeping them as low as possible. We'll explore ways to generate revenue through sustainable tourism and other innovative strategies."

The crowd seems to be calming down, but there's still a lot of skepticism.

"What about the big corporations?" someone asks. "Won't they just find a way to circumvent our plans?"

"That's a valid concern," Troy admits. "But we've already started discussions with some of the major players. We're working on a compromise that will benefit both the town and the corporations."

He pauses, his eyes scanning the room. "We're not just fighting against these corporations. We're engaging with them, finding common ground, and working towards a solution that's mutually beneficial."

The crowd is silent, taking in Troy's words. I can see the wheels turning in their minds.

"This might actually work," someone murmurs.

I smile. We're getting there.

The tension in the room begins to dissipate as people start to see the potential of our plan. I can feel a sense of hope spreading through the crowd.

"We're not just dreaming," I say, seizing the moment. "We're taking action. And with your support, we can make Seaside Cove the best it can be."

A wave of applause ripples through the room. People are starting to believe. We've turned the tide.

As the meeting draws to a close, I can feel a sense of relief washing over me. We presented our plan, we faced the questions, and we didn't crumble. We did it.

I glance at Troy, who's giving me a small, proud smile. I return it, feeling a surge of gratitude and something else… something more.

"Well done, Skye," he says, his voice barely audible. "You did great."

I just smile, too overwhelmed to speak. We've taken the first step towards saving Seaside Cove.

My heart's still racing, adrenaline pumping from standing up there and basically baring my soul to the entire town.

Troy squeezes my hand - a quick, subtle gesture that sends yet another tiny spark through me.

We did it. We actually did it.

Mayor Roberts clears his throat. "The council will review the proposal in detail, but..." He pauses, and I'm holding my breath. "We're cautiously optimistic."

Cautiously optimistic? I'll take that.

The crowd starts breaking up, people chatting, some coming up to ask follow-up questions. I'm scanning the room, riding this wave of victory, when I spot them.

Lillian and Mona Bellamy are walking towards me with that predatory smile that usually makes people want to run.

But not me. Not today.

"Impressive presentation, Skye," Lillian says, her voice smooth as silk but with an edge. "We didn't expect... such comprehensive planning."

Mona nods, tapping something on her tablet. "The data points were surprisingly robust."

I cock an eyebrow. Coming from them, that's practically a standing ovation.

"We've decided to take a step back," Lillian continues. "Your community preservation strategy... it has merit."

Wait. What?

Troy appears beside me, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from him. His sisters exchange a look - part challenge, part respect.

"We're not completely out," Mona adds quickly. "But we're willing to discuss a collaborative approach."

I can't help it. I grin. A full, sass-filled, completely triumphant smile.

Game. Set. Martinez.

People start approaching me, their earlier skepticism replaced by curiosity and something that looks a lot like respect.

Mrs. Chen from the bakery reaches me first. "That was quite something, Skye," she says, her eyes twinkling. "Never thought I'd see someone connect so robustly to those corporate types quite like that."

I can't help but grin. "Just doing what needs to be done, Mrs. Chen."

One by one, local business owners crowd around. The hardware store owner, the bookshop manager, even old Mr. Peterson - they're all talking over each other, asking questions, offering congratulations.

"Zoey!" I spot her weaving through the crowd, her mischievous trademark smile spreading across her face.

"My girl!" She practically tackles me with a hug. "You killed it up there. Absolutely demolished it."

I laugh, feeling the tension finally start to melt away. "We did good, right?"

Zoey rolls her eyes. "Good? You just saved the entire town's future." She leans in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Pub. Now. Celebration time. I've already called ahead. We’re on the patio, side porch."

The pub is packed by the time we arrive. Word travels fast in Seaside Cove, and everyone wants to toast to our success. Troy's sisters are preparing to leave, their corporate personas slightly softened after the presentation.

"We'll be in touch," Lillian says to Troy, her voice a mix of grudging respect and continued skepticism.

Mona adds a quick, "Impressive work, Troy," before they both sweep out of the pub, designer heels clicking against the worn wooden floor.

I catch Troy's eye, and we share a look. A moment of pure, shared triumph.

The pub is loud, warm, filled with the kind of community spirit we just fought to preserve. Local craft beer flows, people are laughing, and for the first time in months, there's a sense of hope hanging in the air.

"To Skye and Troy!" Someone shouts, and the entire pub erupts in cheers.

I feel Troy's hand take hold of mine under the table. A tiny, electric connection that says more than words ever could.

We did it. We actually did it.

"Want some air?" he asks, and I quirk an eyebrow.

"We're already outside, genius."

He chuckles. That deep, rumbling laugh that does ridiculous things to my insides. Traitor, I tell my heart.

“I mean outside, Skye Martinez.”

I grin at the name and nod.

The pub's warmth slowly fades behind us as we step outside. Cool evening air kisses my flushed cheeks, and I take a deep breath. Victory tastes like salt, beer, and something else, very indefinable.

Troy's standing close.

Too close. Not that I'm complaining.

My hair's slightly messy from all the celebrating, and I can feel the adrenaline still buzzing through my veins.

We just saved the town. I know it!

The streetlights cast this soft golden glow, making everything look like some romantic movie set. The pier stretches out to our left, waves gently lapping against the wooden posts. Seaside Cove looks magical - our magical little town that we just protected.

My hand is still tingling from where it brushed against his during the presentation.

And now? Now we're standing close enough that I can smell his cologne - something expensive obviously. Because, of course, a billionaire CEO would smell like money and sophistication.

"Are you going to keep staring or..." I start, my sharp mouth autopilot kicking in.

Before I can finish the sentence, his hand slides around my waist. One moment we're bantering, the next - we're kissing.

And holy fusion tacos, what a kiss.

It's not soft. It's not gentle. It's passionate and fierce and everything we are - two people who fought tooth and nail for something they believe in, and now, finally, allowing themselves this moment.

My hands find their way into his hair. His grip on my waist tightens. The world could literally end right now, and I wouldn't care.

When we finally break apart, I'm breathless.

Literally breathless.

"Well," I manage, "I guess preventing a corporate buyout prevention is an excellent aphrodisiac."

Troy laughs.

And in that moment, with the town we saved behind us and possibility stretching out before us, everything feels perfect.