Meant to Be (Sweetbriar Cove #1)(31)

What did Cooper think of her now?

"So, we're going to forget you ever said that," Poppy announced brightly. "And just move right along. How's the house coming along? What are the plans like? Do you have a buyer lined up?"



       
         
       
        

Cooper grinned. "Relax. I stopped reading when I got to the good stuff. Figured you'd prefer it that way."

"Oh, thank god," Poppy exhaled in a rush. "It's bad enough knowing my mom reads it, I never really had to think about being around guys who'd read . . . you know, that stuff."

"No?" Cooper looked amused. "It would probably be a draw for some guys. Especially since you just said a lot of it is based on your life . . ."

Poppy covered her face with her hands. "Let's just forget I ever said anything!"

She heard Cooper laugh, and then a moment later, felt the truck turn off the main highway. She lifted her head as they pulled into a brightly-lit parking lot, beside a barn-style restaurant with a sign reading Fresh Catch Daily! They parked out front, and Cooper went around to get her door. "Like I said, it's nothing fancy," Cooper said as he led her to the main doors. "But they do the best lobster around-and that's saying something on the Cape."

Poppy stepped inside after him and looked around. It was a big, homey space set with communal-style benches, already half-full with families and other couples. There were photos of sailboats, and old anchors hung up on the walls, and the windows on the far wall looked out over the twinkling lights of the bay. Poppy's mouth watered as she watched a waitress pass by with a massive platter of fresh-baked rolls and butter. "To tell the truth, I prefer this kind of place over fancy restaurants," she confided, as they waited for the hostess. "My friend Summer works at a really high-end place in the city, but every time I go there, I start worrying about using the wrong fork, or annoying the snooty maître d'."

Cooper chuckled. "Let me guess, they serve everything with weird foam and freeze-dried shavings."

"Yes!" Poppy exclaimed. "Half the time, I don't even know what I'm eating. Summer isn't like that," she added quickly. "She's the most amazing chef, and her pastries . . ." She trailed off with a lustful sigh. "One day, she wants to open a bakery, but I guess she's still paying her dues."

"I get that." Cooper nodded. "I didn't go out on my own until just a few years ago. They don't tell you how running your own business isn't just about the fun stuff, it's all the extra work as well-keeping the books, and dealing with suppliers, and marketing."

"And you can't play hooky, either, when you're boss," Poppy agreed, laughing.

"See, I told you." Cooper grinned. "Work ethic."

The hostess showed them to a table by the windows, and they got settled, the salty sea air mingling with all the delicious food smells wafting from the kitchen. 

"Can I bring you some menus?" the girl asked, and Cooper looked to Poppy.

"Usually, I just get the platter, but if you want . . . ?"

"No, it sounds good to me," she agreed quickly. "And can you please bring some of those rolls? Lots of those rolls. And butter," she added, before the waitress departed. She caught his smile from across the table. "It's hungry work!" she protested. "All that sitting around, typing."

"Working up a sweat." Cooper gave her a wink, and Poppy cringed again.

"I said we were forgetting about that."

"We were," he replied, looking amused. "But now you're blushing so hard, it makes me wonder what I missed."

"That's for me to know, and you to find out," Poppy said, realizing too late how flirtatious the challenge sounded. But thankfully, the waitress returned with their beers, so Cooper just quirked a knowing eyebrow and let that one slide.

Poppy sat back, trying to relax. "I still can't believe you're here in town. You were always so . . . restless," she smiled, remembering him when he was younger. "I figured you'd be on the other side of the country by now."

Cooper gave a knowing smile. "Is that a polite way of saying I was a loud-ass brat?"

"Hey, take the pass," she said, and he laughed.

"You're right, I couldn't wait to get the hell out. I left for college, but then my dad got sick, and, well . . ." He shrugged. "It turned out Sweetbriar had something going for it, after all." He toyed with his beer bottle. "They really pulled together for us, and after a while, I guess it just feels like home."