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Chapter 11
For the rest of the week, Aria couldn’t get Max’s remarks out of her head, even as she realized that, of course, she wouldn’t be able to keep Hunter away from her. How else would he try and intimidate her, if not with his decidedlyphysicalpresence?
Not that she would be intimidated.
In-between running the café, she spent her time going door-to-door with her petition and donation requests. On Saturday morning, she woke early to get ready and load up the cats for their day at the Artichoke Festival. After showering and slipping into a cream-colored sundress and cardigan, she went into the tiny kitchen to have coffee and cereal.
As she rolled up the window shade, she caught sight of a man jogging toward Mariposa Street. Her breath caught.
Notaman. Big strong Hunter Armstrong who’d supposedly looked at her as if he intended to plant his flag right inside her.
Onher. Rightonher.
Heat prickled her skin. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. His performance T-shirt clung to his chest, and even from the distance, she saw the exertion lacing his body. He ran with an easy, masculine grace, thumping his feet hard on every cobblestone as if he were securing them in place.
Orclaimingthem.
As he passed her building, he glanced up at her in the window. A sharp current of electricity crackled between them. She ducked back against the wall, her heart pounding. Did he know she lived here? Had he jogged around the area before now?
Despite her attraction to him, Aria knew Hunter hadtacticsandstrategies. He was a crazy successful developer who had all kinds of tricks up his sleeve. She couldn’t let his hotness or his territorialism or anything else get past her guard.
She waited to ensure he was gone before she went downstairs to corral the cats into their crates. By the time she got to Wildwood Park, the festival had already started. People wandered around the food booths, played games, and listened to the ten-piece band on the main stage. Along with the strains of “Love Me Do,” the smells of fried artichokes, burgers, and tacos drifted through the air.
Aria set up her booth and the cat enclosure before letting the cats out onto the grass. They quickly started prowling around, enjoying the sunshine and attention from all the passers-by.
She eased Jumbo out of his crate and fastened a little sign around his collar readingI’m Taken, Sorry!before setting him in the enclosure. He bumped his head against her hand, insisting on an ear-scratch before he went off to join the others.
After ensuring that the cats had enough food and water, she went to the folding table where she’d set up signs for both the cat adoptions and the petition against Imperial’s proposed development. She spent the next couple of hours chatting with people who stopped at her booth.
“Here you go.” Brooke bounded up, her camera slung over one shoulder. She extended a smoothie and paper-wrapped straw toward Aria. “Mango-peach.”
“Thanks so much.” Aria unwrapped the straw and stuck it in the cup.
Brooke pulled the lens cap off her camera and stepped back to take a photo of Aria’s booth. “Any adoptions yet?”
“One application, and several other interested parties. They liked the donation idea too.” Aria indicated the poster board advertising that fifty percent of the adoption fee would be donated to the Mariposa Renovation Fund.
“How’s the fundraising going so far?”
Aria peered into the jar where she was collecting donations. “Looks like a good fifty bucks. If I add that to the money I’ve already raised, I might be over four hundred.”
“Not bad considering you just started this week.” Brooke scrolled on her phone. “When’s the Mariposa Business Association meeting? Gramps wants me to cover it. He says the vote will be historic.”
“April thirtieth.”
“Will Hunter Armstrong be there?”
“That meeting is the only reason he’s in town. He probably has a whole speech planned.”
“But remember you have a personal stake in Mariposa, and you’re friends with the people who live there. No matter how much money Armstrong has, he can’t buy loyalty.”
Though Aria’s heart filled with gratitude toward her friend, Brooke’s pep talk wasn’t enough. Hunter didn’t need to buy loyalty. He just wanted to buy up the entire Mariposa district. For most people, all that might take was the right price.
“Is that Sam?” Brooke squinted at a tall, scruffy man wearing jeans and a plaid shirt, who was ambling down the midway with a paper tray of fried artichokes. “I thought he turned to ash in direct sunlight.”
Aria chuckled and waved at the reclusive bookstore owner. “Hey, Sam! Interested in a feline companion? Half the adoption fee goes to the Mariposa Renovation Fund. Or you can just make a donation.”
Setting down his food, Sam dug into his pocket for his wallet. “How much do you need to raise?”
