Meant to Be (Sweetbriar Cove #1)(13)

And how hot he was, too.

Poppy tried not to recall the feel of his body against hers, when he'd reached to steady her. Those strong hands on her bare arms, just inches away. The towel she'd grabbed still left her feeling completely exposed, and she'd been painfully aware of his eyes slipping over her body, his gaze like a caress on her cool, wet skin.

Why did someone so annoying have to be so handsome? As much as she hated the sight of that teasing smirk on his lips, she had to admit, it looked pretty good there.

It was just as well, because she had a feeling she'd be seeing a lot more of it.



After another hour staring at her empty screen, Poppy admitted defeat. Clearly, a coffee shop wasn't where she needed to be to get her creative juices flowing, so she packed up and began to head for home. The sun was just starting to go down, casting the streets in a rosy dusk light, and even though it was still spring, and tourist season had yet to begin, the main street was still busy with locals, picking up groceries on their way home from work and pausing to chat on the corner.

Poppy looked around, still half-hoping inspiration would strike. Her eye caught a handwritten sign, almost buried under the foliage surrounding a squat old cottage, half-hidden down a side street.

Books, rare & usual.

This must be the store Mackenzie had mentioned. In her life, Poppy had never been able to resist a bookstore, and today was no exception. She veered across the road and ducked under the low arbor, following a paved pathway through an overgrown garden. It looked more like somebody's house from the outside, but there was an open sign propped in the window, and when she pushed open the door, it opened with a musical ding from the bell.

She stepped inside and was immediately hit with that same sense of belonging she'd felt the first time she'd stepped into her local library as a child and found-oh, the magic!-an entire temple devoted to books. Here, the tiny rooms seemed to spill into each other in a dense warren of low doorways and hidden nooks. Creaky bookcases packed with books lined every wall, and the last of the day's sunlight filtered through the windows and pooled on the polished wooden floors.

Poppy breathed in the scent of old books, and, just like that, her stress and deadline panic melted clean away. Now, this was heaven. She must have spent half her life browsing in bookstores just like this, but she never got tired of it. She never knew what treasures she would find-an old paperback by her favorite author, or a new title that for some reason caught her eye. She lost track of time, browsing among the stacks, until her arms were full of titles, and a voice pulled her from her reverie.

"We're closing now."

She looked up. There was a guy loitering in the doorway, jingling keys impatiently in his hand.

"This is your store?"

"For my troubles," he replied. He had a gruff English accent, with messy brown hair and a thick winter beard.

"It's amazing," Poppy gushed, following him out to the front. "I could spend all day here."

"As long as you buy something," he said abruptly, ringing up her purchases. "Some people browse for hours and never spend a penny. I've half a mind to start charging rent."

Okay. Poppy made a note not to get on this guy's bad side.

Just as she was paying for her stack, the doorbell dinged, and she was surprised to see Cooper walk in, with Riley and a couple of other guys behind him. Cooper stopped when he saw her, and resignation was clear on his face.



       
         
       
        

"Should have known I'd find you here," Cooper drawled. Poppy tried to ignore the flush that prickled across her skin from seeing him again. He still hadn't shaved, so his strong jaw was stubbled, glinting bronze, and he was wearing a faded plaid shirt, and jeans that fit him just right . . .

Not that she should be noticing how his jeans fit. Poppy dragged her eyes back up. "Don't tell me you've got a book club," she asked. "What is it this week: How to Make Friends and Influence People?"

Riley laughed out loud as Cooper narrowed his eyes. "Poker night," he said. "Don't let us keep you."

"You should stay," Riley interrupted. "Do you play?"

"A little," Poppy said, tempted. It looked like a fun group, and the owner was already setting up a table with snacks and beer. "But I don't want to intrude . . ."

"Good," Cooper said, at the same time as Riley insisted,

"No way, the more the merrier."

Poppy knew it was a guys' night, and any other time, she would have left them to their manly bonding, but Cooper's smirk was still bugging her. "Sure, why not?" she said brightly. She put her books down, and headed over to the table-ignoring Cooper's groan.