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“Having animals in a café has got to be a health code violation.”
“Not when the cats are separated from the food service area. Guests can take food into the Cat Lounge, but they’re two distinct areas.”
“Why would anyone want to eat with a bunch of cats running around?”
Aria tried to hold on to her temper. She’d gotten the sense last night that he wasn’t a fan of cats, but she’d also attributed that to the circumstances—cold rain, being “annoyed the crap out of,” a defiant Porkchop—rather than a life philosophy.
But given the disapproval and faint disgust etching his strong features at the moment…Hunter was no friend of felines.
“This may be a foreign concept to you, but a lot of people love cats.” She set Jumbo down and planted her hands on her hips. “Playing with them and just being around them can be very soothing and relaxing. And if a guest finds a cat they connect with, then I help facilitate the adoption process.”
He peered at another cat who’d leapt onto a table. “There is no way this is sanitary.”
“It’s entirely sanitary. All of the cats have regular check-ups and vaccinations, and I keep the café in spotless condition. Guests are required to take off their shoes before entering the lounge…you are violating that policy, by the way…and are not allowed to share food and drinks with the cats.”
“So Porkchop isn’t actually your cat.”
“He’s an orphan who needs a forever home.”
“A what?”
“A home with a loving, caring family where he can live happily for the rest of his life.” She knelt to try and coax Fang out from under the sofa. The cat hissed at her. “All of the cats are looking for forever homes, and they’ll stay here until they’re adopted. I assure you I’ve done my due diligence and have my business license for this establishment. Everything is up to code.”
“From what I hear, the building codes on Mariposa Street are a mess because no one knows how to handle modernizing old structures. And no thanks to small-town politics, half the shops on this block look like they haven’t been inspected in decades.”
“Small town doesn’t equal stupid,” Aria snapped. “But I’m starting to believe big citydoesequal arrogant asshole.”
A humorless laugh escaped him. “Take the offer, Aria.”
“No.”
“You won’t win.” His eyes narrowed, twin flames of irritation rising in their green depths. “And if you end up selling at a loss, you won’t have the money to reopen somewhere else.”
“I don’t intend to reopen somewhere else. I’m staying right here.”
“You’re making a mistake.”
“Trust me.” She lifted her chin in defiance. “I’ve already made my mistakes. Meow and Then is absolutely not one of them.”
When he still didn’t move, Aria ducked past him and strode to the door. Yanking it open, she gestured sharply to the porch. “Please go.”
For an instant, he didn’t move. She had the sense that he’d stand there forever until he got what he wanted. His hands fisted. A sharp, angry current arced between them.
He strode to the door and stopped in front of her, so close she could smell his aftershave, something deliciously masculine and rich, like bergamot and cloves. The opposite of his wind-and-rain scent from last night, but equally enticing. Her blood warmed, his proximity eliciting a pulse deep inside her.
Tightening her hand on the doorknob, Aria steeled herself against his potent effect. Everything had just changed drastically. Now she had to remind her body that being attracted to the man trying to rip her livelihood away was entirelyagainst the rules.
“I believe I’ve made my position clear, Mr. Armstrong.” She opened the door wider. “And once I make up my mind, nothing can change it.”
“As you said,” he slipped his gaze to her mouth, heat brewing in the depths of his dark eyes, “there’s a first time for everything.”
He strode past her in a rush of good-smelling air before stalking down Mariposa Street. No doubt to continue his invasion to conquer the rest of the shop owners.
Aria closed the door and pressed a hand to her chest. Her heart thumped heavily. Disappointment still seethed inside her, bitter and hot.
Well. That was that. She could still keepThe Escape of Porkchopchapter in her heart, leafing through it whenever she needed a reminder of a cosmic joke.
Or a night that had left her warm and fuzzy in more ways than one.
With a sigh, she returned to writing the menu on the chalkboard. It was her own damned fault for not remembering that spontaneity was a bitch.
