9. TROY

Chapter nine

TROY

The incessant buzzing of my phone jolts me awake. I groan, fumbling for it on the nightstand. The clock reads 6:00. Who the hell is calling at this ungodly hour?

I squint at the screen. Mona. Of course.

"What?" I growl into the phone, not bothering with pleasantries.

"Good morning to you too, sunshine," my sister's voice drips with sarcasm. "Glad to see Seaside Cove hasn't softened you."

I sit up, running a hand through my hair. "What do you want, Mona?"

"An update, dear brother. The board is getting antsy. They want to know when we can expect to close this deal."

I feel a knot forming in my stomach. The deal. Right. The whole reason I'm here in this quaint little town that's starting to feel less like a prison and more like...

No. I can't think like that.

"I'm working on it," I say, trying to inject some confidence into my voice. "These things take time."

She sighs. "Time is money, Troy. You know that better than anyone. We need this deal closed, and we need it closed yesterday."

I pinch the bridge of my nose, feeling a headache coming on. "I know, I know. Just... give me a little more time."

"Fine. One week, Troy. That's all you get. Your time there is coming to an end. After that, we're sending in the lawyers."

The call ends before I can respond. I flop back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. One week. One week to either crush this town's dreams or...

Or what? Throw away everything I've worked for? Disappoint my family? Ruin our company's expansion plans?

I groan, covering my face with my hands. When did everything get so complicated?

The image of Skye's smile flashes through my mind, and I feel that now-familiar warmth in my chest. Skye. The biggest complication of all.

That night's almost-kiss plays on repeat in my head. The way she looked in the moonlight, the softness in her eyes, the electricity between us. Oh, how I wanted to kiss her. I still do.

But I can't. I'm here to buy out her beloved town, for crying out loud. If she knew the truth...

A knock on my door interrupts my brooding. I frown, checking the time again. 6:30 AM. Who could it be?

I drag myself out of bed, not bothering to put on a shirt, before opening the door.

And there she is. Skye. Looking unfairly beautiful in the early morning light, her dark curls a wild halo around her face.

Her eyes widen as they take in my bare chest, a blush creeping up her cheeks. "Oh! I... uh... sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

I lean against the doorframe, suddenly very aware of my state of undress. "It's fine. I was up. What's going on?"

Skye tears her eyes away from my chest, clearing her throat. "Right. Um, I was wondering if you wanted to grab breakfast? I know this great little place down by the beach. Best waffles you've ever had, I promise."

I blink, surprised. Is she asking me out? On a breakfast date?

The responsible part of my brain screams at me to say no. To remember why I'm here, to keep my distance. But my traitorous mouth has other ideas.

"Sure," I hear myself say. "Give me ten minutes to get ready?"

Skye's face lights up with a smile that makes my heart do backflips. "Great! I'll meet you downstairs."

As I close the door and lean against it, I can't help but smile. Breakfast with Skye. It's a terrible idea. It's going to make everything more complicated.

But I can't bring myself to care.

Nine minutes later, I'm downstairs, feeling oddly nervous. Skye's waiting by the front desk, chatting animatedly with the receptionist. When she sees me, her smile widens.

"Ready to have your mind blown by breakfast?" she asks, her eyes twinkling.

I roll my eyes, but I'm smiling too. "Let's not oversell it. They're just waffles."

Skye gasps in mock outrage. "Just waffles? Oh, Troy, you have no idea what you're in for."

As we walk out into the morning sun, I can't help but notice how easy this feels. The banter, the smiles, the way we fall into step beside each other. It's... nice. Really nice.

The cafe is a small, cozy place right on the beach. The smell of coffee and fresh-baked goods hits me as soon as we walk in, making my stomach growl.

"Skye!" the woman behind the counter calls out. "And you brought a friend! The usual for you, hon?"

Skye nods, then turns to me. "Trust me to order for you?"

I hesitate for a moment, then nod. "Why not? Surprise me."

As Skye places our order, I find a table by the window. The view of the beach is breathtaking, the early morning sun turning the water into a sheet of diamonds.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Skye asks, sliding into the seat across from me.

I turn to her, taking in her curious expression. "Just admiring the view," I say honestly.

She follows my gaze to the window, her face softening. "It never gets old, does it? No matter how many sunrises I see here, it always takes my breath away."

I nod, understanding completely. It's not just the physical beauty of this place. It's the peace, the sense of belonging. Things I've never really felt before.

Our food arrives, interrupting my thoughts. The waffles are piled high with fresh berries and whipped cream, looking more like a work of art than breakfast.

"Wow," I say, genuinely impressed. "This looks..."

"Amazing? Incredible? Life changing?" Skye supplies, grinning.

I roll my eyes. "I was going to say 'good', but sure, let's go with life changing."

As I take my first bite, I have to admit – if only to myself – that Skye might be right. These waffles are incredible. Light, fluffy, with just the right amount of sweetness.

"Okay," I say after swallowing. "I'll give you this one. These are pretty great."

Skye's triumphant smile is almost as sweet as the waffles. "Told you so. Seaside Cove might be small, but we know how to do breakfast right."

As we eat, we fall into easy conversation. Skye tells me about her plans for the food truck, her eyes lighting up as she describes new recipe ideas. I find myself sharing stories from my college days, making her laugh with tales of my less-than-stellar attempts at cooking.

It's nice. More than nice. It's comfortable and fun and...

And absolutely terrifying.

Because with every smile, every laugh, every shared moment, I'm falling harder. And I know, deep down, that this can't last. That eventually, the truth will come out.

But for now, in this moment, with the sun streaming through the window and Skye's laughter filling the air, I let myself forget about deals and deadlines and family expectations.

For now, I'm just a guy having breakfast with a beautiful, fascinating woman.

And I’m beginning to wish, more than anything, that it could stay this simple forever.

***

After eating, we head back upstairs to our rooms. The narrow hallway seems smaller than usual, and I'm hyperaware of Skye's presence beside me as we walk.

The morning sunlight streams through the window at the end of the hall, catching the gold highlights in her curls.

We reach our doors, and Skye turns to face me, her key card jingling softly in her hand. "Thanks for breakfast," she says, her voice softer than usual. "It was... nice."

"It was," I agree, and find myself taking a step closer.

The usual sharp-tongued food truck owner who's been driving me crazy since day one looks suddenly vulnerable in the morning light, and something shifts in my chest.

She's perfect. I want her.

She tilts her head up to meet my gaze, and I notice a small dimple appear at the corner of her mouth. "You know, for a corporate suit, you're not terrible company."

I laugh softly, moving closer still. "High praise from the queen of backhanded compliments."

"I have my moments of generosity," she whispers, and I realize we're standing close enough now that I can see the flecks of gold in her brown eyes.

My hand moves of its own accord, brushing a wayward curl from her cheek.

She draws in a quick breath but doesn't pull away. The air between us feels charged, like the moment before a summer storm.

"Skye," I murmur, my thumb grazing her cheekbone.

Goodness, I want her.

She reaches up, her fingers tentatively touching my lapel. "Yes?"

The guilt about my true identity threatens to surface, but I push it away.

Right now, at this moment, I'm just a man standing before a woman who's managed to turn my carefully ordered world upside down.

I lean down slowly, giving her time to step away if she wants to. But she doesn't.

Instead, she rises slightly on her toes, meeting me halfway.

When our lips meet, it's soft at first, hesitant. Then Skye sighs against my mouth, and something inside me breaks loose.

I wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her closer as her hands slide up my chest to rest against my shoulders. The warmth of her touch burns through my shirt, making me dizzy with want.

Her lips are impossibly soft, tasting of the cinnamon we ate for breakfast.

I cup her cheek with my free hand, tilting her face to deepen the kiss.

She melts against me, and I forget everything – the buyout, my family's expectations, the weight of my responsibilities.

At this moment, there's only Skye.

Her fingers curl into the fabric of my shirt, and I trace my thumb along her jawline, memorizing the feel of her skin.

In a back corner of my mind, I hear the ocean breeze swirl around us, carrying the salt air and the distant sound of waves, but all I can focus on is how perfectly she fits in my arms.

Then, as suddenly as it began, Skye breaks away. Her eyes flutter open, wide with surprise – and something else. Fear? Regret? Shock? My heart pounds as I watch various emotions cross her face.

"I... I don’t," she whispers, taking a step back. Her hand flies to her lips, and even in the dim light of the inn's hallway, I can see the flush in her cheeks. "This is..."

“Skye...” Before I can reach for her, before I can say any of the words caught in my throat, she turns and flees into her room.

The soft click of her door closing echoes in the empty hallway like a gunshot.

I stand there, my hands still warm from holding her, the taste of cinnamon on my lips, and the crushing weight of my secrets bearing down on me once again.

Because soon, I must tell her the truth. And when I do, this moment – this perfect, stolen moment – will shatter like glass.