Meant to Be (Sweetbriar Cove #1)(24)

"Sorry." Cooper pulled himself up and shifted back to the driver's seat. "I told you it was temperamental."

"Right." Poppy gulped. "Thanks."

"No problem." Cooper grabbed another handful of popcorn. He was staring straight at the screen, like nothing had even happened. "Let's enjoy the show."



Poppy had always loved Hitchcock, but by the time the credits rolled, she couldn't have told you anything that happened on screen. She'd spent the movie sneaking furtive glances at Cooper, wondering if he felt the electric tension between them, or if it was all in her mind.

None of this would have happened if he hadn't kissed her. It was like how they said a bell could never be un-rung; he'd kissed her, and now she couldn't be un-kissed. In an instant, he'd gone from being Cooper, the gruff neighbor keeping her up when she needed to sleep, to Cooper. The man who had pulled her into his arms and made her feel something she hadn't in a long, long time. And for all their casual conversation that night, Poppy still knew something between them had shifted, and it wasn't ever shifting back.

"What did you think?"

Cooper's voice pulled her back, and she realized the movie was over. The other cars were rolling out, and the concession boy was pulling up the screen.



       
         
       
        

"Oh. Great. It was good," Poppy blurted. "Thanks for bringing me."

"Any time." Cooper turned on the engine and joined the snaking line heading back across the field to the highway. They drove back towards Sweetbriar in companionable silence, but Poppy couldn't help but feel the tension still crackling between them. Unless she was delusional and conjuring something out of thin air. She glanced over again. Cooper looked perfectly at ease, like he was probably thinking about rivets and hammers, or whatever sports game was on tomorrow night.

"Feel any better about that book?" he asked.

She sighed, and he shot her a sympathetic look. "I guess not."

"I'll figure it out. I have to," she vowed. "I just need to decide what it's about. Not the plot," she explained, "but the theme."

"What do you mean?" Cooper asked as he pulled up back outside the cottage.

"It's hard to explain, but there's always a question I wind up asking in my writing, or some argument I want to explore," Poppy said. The truck stopped, but she didn't move. "My last book was about forgiveness-how you can heal and move on with someone you love. But when I try to think about what matters to me right now, the message I want to send my readers, I just come up a blank. It's like everything that's happened with Owen and the wedding just drained away my inspiration. I don't know how to get that back," she said sadly. "Not when I wonder sometimes if chasing my soulmate is just a childish dream."

Poppy stopped herself, too late. Listen to her, blabbering her deepest insecurities-to someone who had already made it perfectly clear he thought she was a naïve con-artist peddling lies. "Anyway, thanks for this. I needed to get my mind off everything." She opened the door and got down, wanting to put as much distance as possible between herself and that confession, but Cooper followed, shutting off the engine to walk her to the door.

"Maybe that's your question," he said finally. Poppy turned. "How you can keep believing in something, even when you don't have any proof it's going to work out," he explained. "And what about if you believe it?" he added. "If you think you have everything, and it doesn't work out. Are you supposed to just do it all over again, like nothing ever happened? Offer up your heart for someone to stomp all over because, what, they might be the real one this time?"

Poppy saw the emotion flashing across his features, then he shrugged, looking self-conscious. "Or, something like that. What do I know?"

"No . . . you're right," she said slowly. She was wondering if her faith in happily-ever-after would ever be rewarded-or if she was just a foolish romantic for hanging onto that dream. Well, plenty of her readers could relate to that dilemma. And what Cooper said about starting over . . . that was the real risk. The highest stakes of all. To love, even when you'd been hurt before. Even when you knew the price of watching it all fall apart around you. 

For the first time in months, Poppy felt a shiver of inspiration. Cooper was right. The story had been inside her all along. She'd been holding back, not wanting to throw all her personal issues onto the page, but maybe that was the only choice. Write through her fears and insecurities, and see if she could find the answers that way.