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Chapter 13
Aria sat in the darkened van, her gaze on the lighted windows perforating the Outside Inn. She pushed the key into the ignition, then stopped. Before she could talk herself out of it, she jumped out of the van and hurried around the side of the inn.
Maneuvering through the boxwood shrubs and hydrangeas, she reached the window of the Rosebud Room and tapped on the glass.
The curtains shot aside. Hunter pushed up the window with a frown. “What are you doing here?”
“Avoiding Mrs. Higgins.” She hitched herself onto the sill, muttering a curse when her foot couldn’t find purchase on the wall and her skirt snagged on a rough section of brick.
“We seem to do that a lot.” Grasping her waist, Hunter pulled her up through the open window and steadied her with one hand. “Not that I’m complaining.”
Aria pushed her dress back down over her legs. “There’s a singing fish on the wall of the Mousehole Tavern.”
He blinked. “Okay.”
“Rory hates it.”
“Given what you’ve told me about her, I can understand that.” He closed the window and pulled the curtains shut.
“She hates it because it’s ugly and annoying, but mostly because it’s useless. A singing fish has no purpose in Rory’s life. She doesn’t know what anyone woulddowith it.”
A shadow darkened Hunter’s eyes. He crossed his arms, his feet apart in his solid, tycoon stance. “Your point?”
“I am not a singing fish.” Aria fisted her hands. Her heartrate kicked up. “If you don’t know what todowith me, then you have seriously misjudged what’s been happening here. Let me fill you in.”
She spread her arms out. “Even though we are on opposing sides of a major negotiation, and I wanted nothing to do with you when I found out you’re with Imperial, and even though I won’t tell you the Mariposa Street secret, I just told you a great many of mine. I have a hundred reasons to distrust wealthy, successful men, and I have even more reasons to distrust my feelings about such men.
“But despite all of that, I’ve told you about my family, my father, my cat, and why I’m so determined to keep my property. I’ve let you kiss me, and I’ve kissed you back with profound enthusiasm. Honestly, Hunter, if you haven’t figured out what todo with meby now, then you must need an instruction book because I have a very good idea what to do with you.”
His mouth compressed. “I don’t need you to rescue me.”
“Please. I’m still working on rescuingmyself. But we agreed to a truce. And you can’t kiss me one minute and walk away from me the next. I will not let you treat me like a girl who’s turning your life upside down just because we’re attracted to each other and I’m standing my ground. If we…” she paused for a breath and gestured between them, “…if we can stick to talking and olive branches, it might be possible for us to maintain some civility.”
He stalked to the other side of the room, putting the bed between them. His back muscles bunched with tension under his shirt.
“And remember.” She flexed her fingers. “You kissed me first.”
He studied her, his eyebrows snapping together. “I’m leaving in less than three weeks.”
“I know.”
“I live across the country.”
“Iknow. We’re not going to have a relationship.” An odd pressure tightened her heart. Turning away from him, she picked up a sugar cookie from the plate resting on a table. “I’m talking about…well, maybe it’s possible that we could be something resembling friends.”
She bit into the cookie and risked a glance at him. He dragged a hand down his face and sighed.
“I work a lot.” Deep lines appeared on either side of his mouth.
“I figured.”
“I don’t…” He cleared his throat. “I don’t have a lot of friends. I never have.”
Her heart constricted further. “I figured that too. You can be a little scary.”
“You’re not scared of me.”
“Well, I’m apparently the only one who knows that big bad Hunter Armstrong canpurr.” Aria set the plate in the middle of the bed. She kicked off her sandals and settled against the pillows, indicating the cookies. “Want one?”
