Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Cooper started the engine, waiting for Poppy to get herself together. His clothes were dry, his belly was full, and he was feeling something he never expected to for his infuriating new neighbor.
Sympathy.
He’d thought her tantrums over the construction noise were just some kind of prima donna routine, but watching the sadness and fear in Poppy’s eyes as she described her writer’s block, he realized it went much deeper than that.
She was cracking under a ton of pressure—and he’d been making it worse.
One more thing to add to the list of things he needed to make amends for, right below picking fights at poker games, and kissing her on the front porch.
That kiss . . .
Cooper paused. He’d been trying to banish it from his mind all week, but somehow, it always came back to him.
The feel of her lips, soft and yielding.
The look in her eyes, dazed with desire .
. . He’d lost his mind even reaching for her in the first place, but damn if it hadn’t been the best ten seconds of temporary insanity he could remember.
“OK, I’m all set.” Poppy climbed up beside him into the truck. She was bundled up in a red winter coat now, her hair peeking out from under a knit cap; cheeks flushed from the cold. She looked over expectantly. “What’s this big outing you’ve got planned?”
“Wait and see.” Cooper put the truck in drive.
The truth was, he didn’t have a plan yet, he just knew he needed to get Poppy out of that house.
It looked like she’d been holed up there all week, going stir-crazy as she battled that blank page.
She needed something to snap her out of it and make her loosen up a little. The question was what.
Sweetbriar Cove on a Sunday night didn’t exactly have many options.
Most stores had shut hours ago, and even Riley didn’t keep the pub open past ten.
Besides, he and Poppy didn’t have the best track record when it came to pleasant conversation, so they needed something distracting .
. . noisy . . . preferably in a public place where he wouldn’t be tempted to go kissing her again . . .
He had it.
Cooper drove up through town then turned onto the highway, heading towards Wellfleet, just a few miles away. Poppy turned the stereo on beside him, and his CD of old classics started to play.
“I love Elvis.” She sounded surprised.
“My dad used to play these CDs in the car all the time,” he explained. She turned the volume up a little and sang along. He tried to hide a smile, but she caught it.
“I’m terrible, I know,” Poppy said cheerfully. “I swear I’m tone deaf.”
“You’ll fit right in at karaoke,” Cooper grinned.
“There’s a karaoke place in Sweetbriar Cove?” Poppy asked. “Why am I not surprised?”
“Riley got a system, a couple of years back. If it were up to me, I’d smash the thing, but he says it’s good for profits. People need a couple of extra beers before they get up the courage to sing,” he explains.
Poppy laughed. “Smart guy.”
“He can be.” Cooper nodded. Riley was a good friend, but sometimes Cooper wondered what the guy was doing sticking around someplace as small as Sweetbriar Cove.
He’d made his fortune in tech and social media, and now he was killing time pouring beers, but Cooper would never ask.
Just like Riley didn’t ask about his past, there were some things guys just kept to themselves.
Cooper saw the turn up ahead, and pulled off the main highway. The neon sign loomed up above them, bright against the dark sky: Wellfleet Drive-In.
“Oh my god!” Poppy exclaimed, seeing the lettering. “I didn’t think this place would still be running!”
“It’s a Cape institution,” Cooper said. He’d remembered seeing her there as a kid, when a parent would pile them all in the back of a car, and they’d run riot, fueled by popcorn and candy.
He’d figured she might enjoy it again, and seeing the grin on her face, he’d chosen right.
“I’m not sure what’s playing tonight, so don’t hold it against me if it’s nothing but Disney cartoons. ”
“Let’s see . . .” Poppy peered out of the window at the display board. “It’s an oldie night. Vertigo.”
“Works for me.” Cooper paid the five bucks entrance fee to the kid at the front gate, and then slowly drove into the field that doubled as the drive-in lot.
There was a screen set up at the far end, and a few rows of cars already parked in place.
He picked a spot in the middle of a row and pulled in.
“You want popcorn?” he asked, turning off the engine.
“We just ate!” Poppy laughed.
“And?” Cooper reached to open his door, but Poppy acted first.
“I’ll go,” she said, hopping down. “Sweet or salted?”
“Surprise me.” He could have sworn she blushed, but maybe that was just the headlights.
“I’ll be right back.”
He watched Poppy head across to the concession stand, her red coat bright in the dark.
He hadn’t planned on spending his evening like this, but he had to admit, he was having fun.
An old movie, some conversation—there were worse ways to pass the time.
As long as he kept his head and stayed in control this time, there wouldn’t be any repeat of the madness of last week.
Poppy was just a friend. A neighbor. His platonic acquaintance.
At least, that was the plan.
Another car pulled into the spot next to him, and he turned to find a couple of teenagers in the front seats. The boy shut off his engine, then promptly reached over to start making out with his date.
Cooper averted his eyes. OK, so maybe he could have picked a more platonic spot than a dark drive-in movie theater, but he was a grown man, not some hormone-addled teen.
Just because Poppy’s lips were undeniably kissable didn’t mean he couldn’t control himself.
She hadn’t even mentioned what happened between them, and for all he knew, it hadn’t crossed her mind.
He should be relieved she was being so relaxed about everything, instead of making a scene.
He’d said to forget about it, that it meant nothing at all.
So why did it burn that she’d been able to do just that and move on?
Poppy stood in line at the concession stand and tried to ignore the butterflies spinning in her stomach. Movie tickets, popcorn . . . Had she and Cooper accidentally wound up on some kind of date?
No. She quickly shook off that thought. He was just being friendly, that’s all.
Surprisingly friendly, given their history, but she wasn’t complaining.
He was right, she’d been going crazy in that house, and she was feeling better already just getting out into the crisp night air for a few hours of welcome distraction.
“Popcorn, please,” she asked the boy manning the stand.
“Sweet and salty, just mix it all together. And a couple of sodas . . . and red vines . . .” Poppy hadn’t been to the movies in months, and she got carried away; by the time she returned to Cooper’s truck, her arms were laden with snacks.
“Maybe I went a little wild,” she said, passing the bounty before she climbed back up.
“A little?” he echoed, looking at the spread. He reached for the box of candy. “I guess I better step up to the plate.”
“Aim high. I believe in you.” Poppy laughed. She looked past him, and saw the windows of the next car steaming up. Inside, she could just about make out a couple of teenagers necking—hard.
“Ah, romance,” she quipped, and Cooper shot her a grin.
“You think they’ll catch a single frame of the movie?”
“No way.” Poppy munched on a handful of popcorn. “God, when I was a teenager, we used to drive out to this abandoned farm in the middle of the country to park. You couldn’t move for beat-up old Hondas.”
“We would all go to the woods,” Cooper said. “The property I’m working on now, actually. There’s a whole acre back there, and if those trees could talk . . .”
Poppy grinned. “Is that why you bought it? All those fond memories.”
“Something like that.” Cooper grinned. “Actually, it’s the rest of its history.
Old saltbox houses like that are disappearing these days.
Most people don’t want the hassle of restoring when it’s easier to just knock them down and build from scratch.
But you lose all the historical details, the craftsmanship .
. .” He was talking animatedly, and Poppy could see the passion on his face.
He’d played it off before like just another money-making flip, but it was clear he cared about the house far more than that.
“Seems like a lot of work for something that’s just a paycheck,” she said carefully.
Cooper shrugged. “Call it a work ethic,” he said. “I can’t help but get the job done.”
She snorted. “Ha!”
“Excuse me?” he looked over.
“The Cooper I remember would find any excuse to get out of chores,” Poppy said, shooting him a mischievous grin. “Your dad had to come drag you off the beach to go do laundry.”
Cooper grinned. “He wasn’t exactly paying me sweat equity back then.”
Poppy took another handful of popcorn. The trailers were playing on screen, local ads for lobster shacks and pottery classes. “How is he these days?” she asked.
Cooper paused, and a shadow slipped over his face. “He passed a few years back. Stomach cancer.”
She gasped. “Oh God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” She looked at him anxiously, hoping she hadn’t just put her foot in her mouth and dragged up painful history, but Cooper just gave her a quiet smile.
“It’s OK. I mean, I still miss him, but . . .” He paused. “Life goes on.”
It did. The summer they’d all run wild as kids seemed a lifetime ago. Twenty years, gone in the blink of an eye. Poppy sighed. “We were babies back then.”
Cooper chuckled. “We’re not over the hill just yet.” He nudged her elbow. “You’ve got a few good years in you yet.”
“Gee, thanks.” She laughed. “I’ll need them. My mom is already sending me links about the likelihood of finding a husband after thirty.”