Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Dinner flew by as they caught up on the past twenty years, until the platters between them were almost empty, and Poppy didn’t think she could ever move again.
“Save me,” she groaned, pushing her plate away. “You’ll need to roll me out of this place like a wheel.”
Cooper laughed and took the last of the fries from her abandoned tray. “Does this mean you won’t stretch to dessert?”
Poppy wavered.
“They do a mean apple pie,” Cooper said temptingly. “Or chocolate, if that’s your poison . . .”
“You’re a bad man,” she scolded him, and he laughed.
“How about we get a portion to go? You’ll rally for round two by the time you’re home.”
“And if I don’t, pie works great for breakfast,” Poppy agreed, as he beckoned the waitress over and gave her their order.
Soon, they were packed up and back in his truck with a crisp delivery box of pie, headlights cutting through the dark night.
Poppy relaxed and let the motion of the drive wash over her, soothing as the engine hummed.
She’d enjoyed herself, and despite all her nerves, she and Cooper had fallen into an easy rhythm.
If only she could forget how handsome he was.
She breathed in the buttery scent of pastry from the box and tried to distract herself. “You were right,” she said. “I’m rallying fast.”
He laughed. “Told you so.”
“Why don’t you join me for a slice at the cottage?” she asked, without thinking. “I could put on some coffee, or even make some hot chocolate.”
There was a pause. “Sure,” Cooper said eventually. “I could go for that.”
There was silence, and Poppy realized why: she’d just invited him in.
After their date. For coffee. She may have been rusty when it came to dating, but she was pretty sure that meant she’d just offered him an open invitation to come back to her place and take her to bed for a night of limitless passion.
Or something like that.
Poppy’s heart stopped. Oh God. She hadn’t meant it like that—had she?
Memories of their kiss flooded her brain all over again: the sure, confident heat of his mouth and the feel of his body pressed against hers.
All night, her stomach had been tied up in knots.
It was undeniable; there was something between them, and even if Poppy couldn’t make logical sense of it, she couldn’t hide from the truth.
She wanted him.
Her heart beat faster. She snuck a look at him, illuminated in the headlights in the driver’s seat. The strong line of his jaw, the curve of his bicep under his shirt, the way his hands rested on the steering wheel . . .
Poppy took a breath. His presence beside her was suddenly charged, the distance between them shrinking with every passing minute.
God help her, she was getting turned on by the way the man shifted gears.
The miles passed, and Poppy’s anticipation grew, until by the time they turned off the highway and began to follow the winding lane down to the shore, she was certain her cheeks were flushing red from all her illicit thoughts.
“Are you working early tomorrow?” she blurted, searching for something to say.
“The regular time,” Cooper replied. “But if you need to call an early night, we can take a rain-check on that dessert.”
Poppy gulped. Did he want to cancel? Did he want her to want to cancel?
“No, I’m good,” she replied, fighting to keep her voice casual. “But only if you want to.”
“I want to.”
The quiet certainty in Cooper’s voice shot a bolt of pure electricity through Poppy’s veins. She couldn’t stop a smile curling on her lips as she glanced over again. This time, Cooper was staring straight back at her.
Oh.
There it was again. The heat of connection sparking between them, inexplicable. Undeniable.
She quickly looked away. This time, her heart was racing. The shadows blurred outside the window as Poppy’s body prickled with new awareness. She was really doing this. Going home.
With Cooper.
The truck slowed as they reached the cottage, and Cooper pulled in to park—beside a gleaming BMW she’d never seen before. “Is June back?” she asked.
“It doesn’t look like her style.”
She got out, and walked up the front path, confused. The porch light was on, and as she approached the house, she could see a duffel bag on the ground by the door.
“Hello?” Poppy called, looking around. “Is anyone here?”
“Easy,” she heard Cooper behind her, and then he drew level, putting a protective arm in front of her. “You don’t know who it is.”
“In Sweetbriar?” Poppy wasn’t worried. She headed up the steps and peered around the side of the porch, expecting a friend of June’s, or a local townsperson come to deliver fruit cobbler or fix the gutters.
The last person in the world she expected to come strolling around the side of the house was the man she’d left a thousand miles away with a stack of wedding gift boxes and an apology.
Her ex-fiancé.
Cooper was still on guard for intruders when the newcomer stepped into the light.
He was tall, dressed in a preppy overcoat, with dark hair cut neat and thin gold wire-rimmed glasses.
He looked like he’d just stepped out of the office—and definitely like he wasn’t lurking to case the joint and make off with June’s collection of antique thimbles.
“Owen?” Poppy gasped beside him. “What . . . what are you doing here?”
Owen.
Cooper tensed. This was the guy Poppy had left back home, the one she’d broken up with. What the hell was he doing all the way out here? Poppy had said it herself: it was over. She was moving on.
Cooper drew himself up to his full height and casually stepped in front of Poppy. “Cooper Nicholson,” he said, sticking out his hand. He held Owen’s gaze, steady. “It’s kind of late to be showing up unannounced. Maybe you should give Poppy a call in the morning and see if she’d like to talk then.”
“Who’s this guy?” Owen looked past him. “Poppy?”
“He’s . . . just a friend,” Poppy answered, sounding stressed. She rested a hand on Cooper’s arm. “It’s OK, I’ve got this.”
Friend.
It shouldn’t have hurt, but it did. One dinner didn’t change a thing. He’d thought there’d been something building between them, and when she’d invited him back for dessert, it seemed like she felt it too. But clearly, one look at her old love and she wanted Cooper long gone and out of the way.
He tried to ignore the rejection that slammed over him like a shock of cold water. It was nothing, he told himself. She was free to pick whatever guy she wanted.
Still, he wasn’t about to leave her there alone with some psycho ex. “Are you sure?” Cooper searched her face carefully. “Because I can stay.”
“I’m sure. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. And thanks for dinner,” she added with a small smile. “I had fun.”
Fun. The kind you had with a guy who was just friends.
Cooper resisted the urge to slam the door in this guy’s face and show Poppy what “fun” could really mean. That kiss was just a preview. Now that he knew how sweet she tasted, he could spend days getting lost in her touch, making her gasp and moan for more.
But that was just a fantasy. The real world was staring him right back in the face, waiting politely for him to go.
He nodded brusquely. “I’ll leave you guys to it. Owen, it was good to meet you.” Cooper shot him a warning look that made it clear he was on thin ice. If Poppy said the word, he’d happily send Owen packing out of Sweetbriar Cove for good.
Owen cleared his throat and looked away. “You too.”
Cooper checked with Poppy again, but it was like she didn’t even see him. She was staring at Owen with a flood of emotion in her eyes.
He should have guessed it wasn’t over.
“Goodnight,” he said quietly. It felt wrong somehow, to be turning his back on Poppy, and even worse to leave her alone with another man, but Cooper wasn’t about to cause a scene.
Like she said, they were just friends. He didn’t have any right to the disappointment burning in his chest, so he clenched his jaw and climbed back in the truck, driving away fast enough to make the tires spin on the gravel road.
He was a damn fool.
Of course Poppy thought of him as just a friend, he’d been combative and grumpy since the day they met. And sure, he thought they’d connected—that time at the drive-in, and dinner tonight—but he guessed that didn’t do anything to overcome his bad first impression.
Or second. Or third.
Cooper slammed his hand against the steering wheel. He couldn’t even be mad at Owen for showing up like that. Poppy was a woman worth chasing. No, he’d screwed this one up all on his own, the same way he always did.
He drove for home, but it was like his hands had a mind of their own: they steered him miles past his own turn, to where a lane curved into the woods and the bumpy track dipped and wove through the trees.
He’d cursed this dirt road a hundred times over, getting stuck in potholes and rained out by the storm.
It was near impossible to get the building supplies in, but he’d made it happen eventually.
Cooper bounced over the last fallen branch and turned the corner.
There it was: a small, rustic house sitting squarely by the pond.
The lights were all off, and he figured the tourists he’d sold to were still out of town until summer, but still, he turned off the engine and sat there in the dark for a moment, just remembering.
This used to be his house. His, and Laura’s. He’d fixed it up for them, that first year, imagining the life they’d spend there together and the family they’d raise, right here.
“What about if you believe it? If you think you have everything, and it doesn’t work out.”
He remembered what he’d said to Poppy, the questions he’d asked the other night.
She may have been talking about her book, but those were the questions he’d been grappling with ever since the night he’d come home to find Laura’s engagement ring on the table, and her sitting right there beside it with nothing but defeat left in her eyes.
And just like that, his happily-ever-after crumbled into pieces, and Cooper realized it had always been a lie.
It wasn’t perfect. Hell, even he knew that.
The bickering that turned to fights—lasting too long, cutting too deep.
The slamming doors and empty silences, the hours he’d work just to avoid coming home, and the late nights she’d disappear to do much the same thing.
But nothing was perfect, right? You just made it work.
You fought for each other, for the life you were building, and got through the tough times, somehow.
But Laura didn’t see it that way. “It shouldn’t be this hard,” she’d told him, and just like that, she’d taken herself out of the fight. Cooper was left alone on the battlefield with the sad, painful truth: she hadn’t loved him enough to keep fighting for them.
He wasn’t enough for her in the end.
Cooper sat there in the dark, lost in old memories.
Laura was still on the Cape; she’d met a guy up in Truro the year after she left him.
He was decent, from what Cooper could tell: an accountant, running a small shop for the local businesses.
Now, they were married, with a baby, too.
He saw them all together sometimes, glimpses passing on the street.
She looked happy, and Cooper was glad about that.
She deserved happiness, even if it wasn’t with him.
Relationships failed, sometimes people couldn’t make it work—he knew that.
He’d heard it all before. But deep down, Cooper still blamed himself for letting it slip away.
He should have been able to give her the life she wanted. He could have fought more to make things right.
It shouldn’t be this hard.
Cooper swallowed back the knot in his throat.
Look at him, picking over ancient history.
People moved on all the time, and brooding in the dark wouldn’t bring back something already dead and buried, which is why he rarely let himself think of her at all.
But tonight, with Poppy’s rejection still a fresh wound, he hadn’t been able to keep himself from the past.
But it wasn’t Laura’s face that lingered in his mind as he turned the engine on and finally headed for home. It was Poppy’s.
Her eyes bright, smiling up at him. Hiding her face in her hands with embarrassment when he teased her. Laughing over dinner, so hard she almost choked on her food.
She was beautiful. Honest, and sweet, and determined.
Tonight, he couldn’t help but get swept up in her hopeful enthusiasm, believing that better days lay ahead.
Somehow none of the past mattered, and those old wounds seemed a lifetime ago.
For the first time in a long while, Cooper had found himself wondering what it would be like to try again with someone, for real this time.
Open up and take that chance, to hell with the consequences.
Until they’d arrived back at her place to find her past wasn’t ancient history, after all.
It was for the best. Cooper hit the road again, trying not to think about what she was doing with Owen, right at that moment.
He had no business wanting a future with anyone.
If the definition of insanity was trying the same thing over but somehow expecting a different result, then Cooper could take a hint.
Poppy was better off without him. He was a man made to be alone.