"Whoa there." Cooper looked surprised. "Is this what you've been doing all week, just sitting here in your loop?"
She nodded. "Sometimes I go to the café in town and sit and panic there, too. I'm a failure," she said. "And an imposter, too. Maybe you were right before," she added, looking over at him in defeat. She'd been fighting her doubts and insecurities all along, but maybe it was time to admit the truth. "What do I know about happily-ever-after?" she said. "I mean, just look at me. I've written a dozen romance novels, but I don't have any clue what I'm doing when it comes to my own love life."
Poppy cringed to hear the words out loud. "God, I'm such a cliché-the romance author who's never been in love."
Cooper quirked an eyebrow, and Poppy braced herself for the questions about what happened with Owen, but instead, he suddenly got to his feet. "You've been sitting in this house way too long," he announced. "We need to break this cycle. Come on."
"What? Where?" Poppy blinked. "It's storming out there."
"Not anymore." Cooper paused, listening, and Poppy realized he was right. The steady drum had stopped, but it was still dark out, and late now, too.
"I don't know . . ." she said reluctantly. "I figured I would just curl up with a book. Is anything even open on a Sunday night?"
Cooper grinned. "Ye of little faith. Come on, grab your coat and let's get out of here. It'll be fun, I promise."
Poppy hesitated. It wasn't the cold and dark she was worried about, it was the man standing in front of her: tall and broad-shouldered, and looking way too tempting. But Cooper flashed her that irresistible smile, and she knew, she didn't stand a chance. Between Cooper and another night in staring at a blank screen, there was no contest.
"Fine," she agreed, and got to her feet. "But don't think this will win you Aunt June's secret recipe."
Cooper laughed. "You'll change your tune by the time I'm through with you." He winked, and Poppy felt her stomach turn that slow, delicious arabesque.
The problem was, she would.
9
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 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 nine. 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.