Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
It rained all week, and Poppy loved every minute of it. With the outside world damp and grey, she had the perfect excuse to hide herself away at the cottage again—except this time, instead of staring at her blank screen with a sense of looming dread, she was writing.
All day long.
This was when she loved her work: when a story finally took flight, and she was so caught up in spilling the words onto the page that she didn’t even notice the time passing.
She surfaced briefly for food, and to shower, but aside from the essentials, Poppy blocked everything out and just wrote.
No distractions, no calls; she ignored her emails, let her phone go to voicemail, and just threw herself into the book.
It felt good to be back on her game again. Sure, the chapters were messy, and she was sprinting to make up for lost time, but that crushing panic was finally gone, and it felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.
Speaking of . . . Poppy paused to massage her aching neck.
She’d been hunched over her laptop for days, and even though she tried to take breaks to stretch and walk around, she felt the tension running tightly across her shoulders and back.
She glanced outside. The rain had finally passed, and she’d woken that morning to find clear skies and a bright horizon.
Maybe she should take a real rest, and walk into town.
She’d pretty much lived off store cupboard pasta and soup all week, and she needed fresh groceries and supplies if she was going to keep up this pace.
The phone rang, and Poppy reached for her cellphone before she realized it wasn’t hers, but the landline. She picked up the retro red handset Aunt June had in the corner. “Hello?”
“Hi, Poppy,” a friendly voice said. “It’s Mackenzie, we met the other day? Caffeine addict, fan-girl . . .”
“Hey.” Poppy smiled. “I remember, how’s it going?”
“I’m great. I didn’t have your cell number, but I figured I’d give you a call,” Mackenzie said. “My book club is meeting tomorrow, and I know you’re probably busy, but Franny’s made her plum cobbler, and it would be a crime for you to miss out.”
Poppy hesitated. She didn’t want to interrupt her progress on the book, but she knew a break would be good for her. She’d been holed up for so long, she hadn’t had a chance to meet any more Sweetbriar citizens, and Mackenzie seemed like fun.
Besides, home-baked plum cobbler was too good to resist.
“I’d love to,” she said.
“Yay!” Mackenzie exclaimed. “It’ll be fun, I promise. It’s my turn to host, so just come by Fired Earth around four. It’s the pottery studio on Main Street.”
“I know it.” Poppy smiled. “Can I bring anything?”
“No, you’re good,” Mackenzie said. “Unless you have a bottle of wine or two knocking around.”
“Wine?” Poppy was surprised—especially because they were meeting in the afternoon.
“Like I said, we’re not your usual book club.”
Poppy laughed. “Wine it is then. See you later.”
She hung up, smiling. With all the work she’d done, she’d earned some drinks and cobbler tomorrow—and maybe the chance to make a few friends, too.
Aunt June would be back from her cruise in a week, but Poppy was already thinking about staying longer, and taking her time to enjoy the local area and all its attractions.
Like the attraction next door.
Poppy listened to the sound of hammering and tried not to imagine Cooper at work. They’d been on a rain break all week, but he’d arrived with his crew first thing in the morning, and Poppy had taken all her self-control not to find a reason to cross that property divide and say hello.
She couldn’t stop thinking about him.
Ever since that night at the drive-in, feeling that strange electric tension shimmering in the air, Poppy hadn’t been able to get him off her mind.
Her days were filled with writing, but when she closed her laptop at the end of the night and climbed into bed, somehow, thoughts of him were always waiting.
The solid, confident movement of his body.
The way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled.
His kiss.
She shivered at the memory. He was probably working there now, wearing that pale blue T-shirt that brought out the blue in his eyes . . . and those jeans that hugged his ass just right . . . his muscles rippling under the fabric of—
Nope. Poppy dragged her mind out of the gutter and back to her screen. She was clearly rebounding from her failed engagement—looking for love in all the wrong places. And Cooper Nicholson couldn’t be more wrong.
There was a knock at the door, and Poppy leapt up, glad for another distraction.
“Coming!” she called. She went to go open the door, and stopped dead when she saw who was waiting on the other side.
“Cooper.” She flushed, wondering for a second if she’d conjured him up with all her lustful thoughts. “Hi.”
“Hey.” Cooper looked concerned. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. Are you sick?”
Poppy glanced down. She was still in her pajamas, at two in the afternoon. “No, writing,” she said, embarrassed. “I guess I lost track of time.”
“You broke through your block? That’s great,” Cooper congratulated her.
“So far, we’ll see. I don’t want to jinx it,” Poppy added, but she couldn’t keep from beaming. After so much stress and insecurity, it was a relief just to wake up in the morning with an idea for the chapter ahead. “What can I do for you?”
“Well, it’s actually the other way around.” Cooper shifted on the doorstep. There was a boyish smile playing on his lips, like he was excited about something. “I have something to show you. But, you’ll need to get dressed first.”
“OK.” Poppy was puzzled. “Give me five minutes.”
“Take your time.”
She went back inside and upstairs, but as she headed for her bedroom, she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror.
No! She groaned. It was no wonder he thought she was sick: she looked a mess.
Her hair was tangled, her skin had that pale zombie look about it, and was that .
. . ? Yup, strawberry jam smeared across her jaw.
Poppy jumped in the shower and rinsed off in record time, then she pulled her hair up into a ponytail, dressed in jeans and a red knit sweater, and bounced back downstairs.
Cooper was waiting there, out on the porch.
“You must be relieved the weather changed.” Poppy said, as she sat on the bottom stair and pulled on her boots.
“It put a dent in my schedule, that’s for sure.” Cooper pushed his hair back from his blue eyes, sounding rueful. “I worked on some plans and internal sketches, but yeah, there’s only so much you can do.”
“It’s gorgeous out today.” Poppy felt the warm temperature and left her jacket on the rack. “I always love it after the rain clears, everything seems so fresh and new.”
She was babbling, she knew. And about the weather, too. How much more awkward could you get? But Cooper didn’t seem to notice, and she followed him outside and into the yard.
He led her past the construction site, to where a sandy path led away from the house, meandering along the shoreline.
“Are you sure you aren’t just leading me astray?
” she joked, and then cringed again. Cooper seemed perfectly relaxed, so why couldn’t she do the same?
It wasn’t like they’d had a torrid affair; it had been one kiss, weeks ago now.
She should have done study abroad in France, Poppy thought.
They knew how to deal with casual liaisons. That, and all the delicious cheese.
She was so busy scolding herself for her lack of chill, Poppy barely registered their surroundings, until she realized they were passing through a wooded area, with pine needles carpeting the sand underfoot.
The air smelled fresher here, a mix of the tree scent and salty air, and they were far enough from the house that she couldn’t hear the construction noise over the steady swish of the waves against the shore.
“It’s beautiful out here,” she said, looking around. “I’ve been cooped up inside for so long, I haven’t even had a chance to explore the beach.”
“I figured.” Cooper still looked strangely excited—like a kid who had a secret he was just dying to tell. “I also figured you might need some peace and quiet for your writing. And since I can’t exactly give you that back at the house . . .”
He came to a stop beside what looked like an old cabin: the wooden frame nestled on the edge of the trees, overlooking the dunes and ocean. The wood was bleached and weathered, and bluebells were growing wild, half-covering the old frame with creeping vines and sprigs of blue flowers. “Surprise.”
Poppy was confused, but Cooper just chuckled. “Look inside.”
Poppy moved closer and cautiously swung the doors open. She was expecting rust and dirt, but they swung open smoothly to reveal a tiny cabin, barely thirty square feet.
“I forgot this was even standing,” Cooper explained behind her. “But I was out checking the property line the other day, and found it. I thought it could be your writing cabin.”
Wait, what?
She turned and looked at him in surprise. “This is for me?”
“If you want.” Cooper looked bashful. “I know it’s not much, but I swept it out and brought down some furniture, too. I figured, it’s away from everything, so even if we have to drill the foundations, you won’t hear the noise.”
Poppy stepped inside. It was tiny, but surprisingly homey. The walls were wooden boards, with a single window, and there was barely enough room for an armchair and an old bistro table, but Cooper had put a knitted throw over the chair, and fit a rickety bookcase in the back.
“This is amazing,” Poppy breathed, looking around.
With the doors open, it was like she was right there on the beach, nothing between her and that incredible view, blue water and clear skies as far as she could see.
She could drag the chair out and have her toes in the sand all day long while she wrote.
“You like it?” he asked, looking hopeful.
“I love it!” Poppy exclaimed. Cooper looked pleased. “Thank you so much,” she told him, beaming. “Seriously. I can’t believe you did this for me.”
Cooper cleared his throat. “It’s not a big deal, it was just sitting here, getting dusty. And this way, you won’t be complaining about noise all day.”
He was trying to play it off as an afterthought, but Poppy was still touched by the gesture. He’d put thought into this, and care, too, and knowing he’d done it all in secret to surprise her gave Poppy a sudden burst of confidence.
“Have dinner with me,” she asked suddenly, before she could take it back. “As a thank you, for this. Tonight?”
Cooper looked thrown, and for a moment, she wondered if she’d made a massive mistake. Her heart beat faster. Then he gave her a thoughtful smile. “OK.”
“OK,” Poppy echoed, full of relief. “Great. Pick me up at seven?”
“It’s a date.”
He said the words casually, but as they sunk in, Poppy realized for the first time what she’d just done.
She was going on a date. With Cooper.
Gorgeous, infuriating, argumentative Cooper.
And lord knows what was going to happen next.