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“A lot.” Aria twisted her mouth ruefully. “Bliss Cove used to have a Historical Preservation Society, but it was dismantled years back because of budget cuts. We can use all the support we can get.”
Sam emptied his wallet of bills and stuffed them into the donation jar, then scrawled his name on the petition. “I’ll take some flyers to put up at the bookstore.”
Tucking the flyers under his arm, he slouched off toward another food booth. Aria nudged Brooke, who was watching him go.
“Enjoying the view?” she teased.
“Are you kidding me?” Color rose to Brooke’s cheeks. “Sam? I mean, I guess if I were forced to admit it, I’d say he would be kind of hot if he tried, but not only does he not tryat all, he’s the most anti-social person I’ve ever met. Why does he own a bookstore? He doesn’t even keep regular hours there. And what does he do in his off-hours? I never see him around town. He could be living a double life, like a vampire or a serial killer.”
Aria grinned. “Not that you’ve given him much thought.”
“Right.” Brooke adjusted her baseball cap and straightened her shoulders. “I’ve got far better things to do, like write an opinion piece about creamed versus steamed artichokes. You want me to bring you anything else?”
“No, I’m good. Dinner tomorrow night?”
“Sure. Text me.” With a wave, Brooke headed off, her camera at the ready.
Aria went to the cat enclosure, which was protected from the sun by a grove of leafy trees. She checked the food and water dishes, chatted with people who stopped by to play with the cats, and handed out adoption applications.
By the time the festival started winding down around five, she was tired and sunburned, but thrilled to have applications for five of her feline orphans. The crowd began drifting away from Wildwood Park as vendors dismantled their booths.
Aria boxed up the remaining flyers and the table signs. Her folding table was unfortunately old and warped, the metal underside coated with sticky rust. With a grunt, she shoved the whole table upside down and struggled to push the legs into the slots.
“You need help.”
The deep male voice skimmed over her arms, eliciting a little shiver. She’d expected Hunter to show up at the festival—he wouldn’t miss the chance to ingratiate himself with other residents—but she’d figured he would have left by now.
She straightened and turned to face him. Her insides fluttered and tensed. How did he manage to be so strikingly gorgeousevery timeshe saw him, whether he was wearing an Armani suit or jeans? At the moment, he was in cargo shorts and a forest-green T-shirt that clung to his broad shoulders and made his thick-lashed eyes even more brilliant.
As if his threats weren’t bad enough, he had to have apresencethat made her body react in totally inappropriate ways.
“I do not need help.” Pulling her gaze from him, she shoved at the table leg again. It didn’t budge, which only intensified her bitchiness. “Are you talking about your grandiose Oceanview plans to anyone who will listen?”
“Actually, I came here to sample the artichoke ice cream, which I didn’t know was a thing until now.” His mouth twisted. “Can’t say I was happy to discover it.”
“Bet it wasn’t happy to discover you either.” Aria gave the table leg another futile push. “Who knew I had so much in common with artichoke ice cream?”
“If you keep trying to force that, you’re going to get hurt.” He stalked toward her and bent to push one of the steel rings farther away from the bracket. “You need to put pressure on the hinge first.”
“I know how to fold my own table, thank you.” Aria barely resisted the urge to shove him out of the way.
“Do you store this thing in the rain?” He pushed the table hinge and folded a leg into place with one tug. “Or is it rusty from age?”
“It’s perfectly serviceable.” She clenched her jaw, not wanting to tell him she’d bought the table at a thrift store. “It’s just a little temperamental.”
“Like its owner,” he muttered, moving to unlock and fold the other table leg.
“Oh, look who’s talking.” Aria attempted not to stare at the flex and pull of his muscular forearms. “In addition to bullying, you have a terrible tendency to railroad over people. Itold youI didn’t need help.”
“Too bad.” He slammed the table shut and locked it. “You’ve got it.”
Grabbing the handle, he hefted the table with one hand. Before she could stop him, he strode to the van and pushed the table inside.
Aria huffed out a breath and rolled up the plastic sign advertising Meow and Then. Hunter returned and picked up the cardboard box filled with leftover flyers and the donation jar. Glancing at the sign on the jar, he raised an eyebrow.
“The Mariposa Renovation Fund?”
“Yes.” She tilted her chin defiantly, feeling like a kid selling candy bars for a school field trip. “I’m raising money for a fund to fix up the whole district.”
