Meant to Be (Sweetbriar Cove #1)(33)

Maybe there was hope for her, after all.





12





Dinner flew by as they caught up on the past twenty years, until the platters between them were almost empty, and Poppy didn't think she could ever move again.

"Save me," she groaned, pushing her plate away. "You'll need to roll me out of this place like a wheel."

Cooper laughed and took the last of the fries from her abandoned tray. "Does this mean you won't stretch to dessert?"

Poppy wavered.

"They do a mean apple pie," Cooper said temptingly. "Or chocolate, if that's your poison . . ."

"You're a bad man," she scolded him, and he laughed.

"How about we get a portion to go? You'll rally for round two by the time you're home."

"And if I don't, pie works great for breakfast," Poppy agreed, as he beckoned the waitress over and gave her their order. Soon, they were packed up and back in his truck with a crisp delivery box of pie, headlights cutting through the dark night. Poppy relaxed and let the motion of the drive wash over her, soothing as the engine hummed. She'd enjoyed herself, and despite all her nerves, she and Cooper had fallen into an easy rhythm.

If only she could forget how handsome he was.

She breathed in the buttery scent of pastry from the box and tried to distract herself. "You were right," she said. "I'm rallying fast."

He laughed. "Told you so."

"Why don't you join me for a slice at the cottage?" she asked, without thinking. "I could put on some coffee, or even make some hot chocolate."

There was a pause. "Sure," Cooper said eventually. "I could go for that."

There was silence, and Poppy realized why: she'd just invited him in. After their date. For coffee. She may have been rusty when it came to dating, but she was pretty sure that meant she'd just offered him an open invitation to come back to her place and take her to bed for a night of limitless passion.

Or something like that.

Poppy's heart stopped. Oh God. She hadn't meant it like that-had she?

Memories of their kiss flooded her brain all over again: the sure, confident heat of his mouth and the feel of his body pressed against hers. All night, her stomach had been tied up in knots. It was undeniable; there was something between them, and even if Poppy couldn't make logical sense of it, she couldn't hide from the truth.

She wanted him.

Her heart beat faster. She snuck a look at him, illuminated in the headlights in the driver's seat. The strong line of his jaw, the curve of his bicep under his shirt, the way his hands rested on the steering wheel . . .

Poppy took a breath. His presence beside her was suddenly charged, the distance between them shrinking with every passing minute.

God help her, she was getting turned on by the way the man shifted gears.

The miles passed, and Poppy's anticipation grew, until by the time they turned off the highway and began to follow the winding lane down to the shore, she was certain her cheeks were flushing red from all her illicit thoughts. "Are you working early tomorrow?" she blurted, searching for something to say.

"The regular time," Cooper replied. "But if you need to call an early night, we can take a rain-check on that dessert."

Poppy gulped. Did he want to cancel? Did he want her to want to cancel?

"No, I'm good," she replied, fighting to keep her voice casual. "But only if you want to."



       
         
       
        

"I want to."

The quiet certainty in Cooper's voice shot a bolt of pure electricity through Poppy's veins. She couldn't stop a smile curling on her lips as she glanced over again. This time, Cooper was staring straight back at her.

Oh.

There it was again. The heat of connection sparking between them, inexplicable. Undeniable.

She quickly looked away. This time, her heart was racing. The shadows blurred outside the window as Poppy's body prickled with new awareness. She was really doing this. Going home.

With Cooper.

The truck slowed as they reached the cottage, and Cooper pulled in to park-beside a gleaming BMW she'd never seen before. "Is June back?" she asked.

"It doesn't look like her style."

She got out, and walked up the front path, confused. The porch light was on, and as she approached the house, she could see a duffel bag on the ground by the door.

"Hello?" Poppy called, looking around. "Is anyone here?"

"Easy," she heard Cooper behind her, and then he drew level, putting a protective arm in front of her. "You don't know who it is."

"In Sweetbriar?" Poppy wasn't worried. She headed up the steps and peered around the side of the porch, expecting a friend of June's, or a local townsperson come to deliver fruit cobbler or fix the gutters. The last person in the world she expected to come strolling around the side of the house was the man she'd left a thousand miles away with a stack of wedding gift boxes and an apology.