Her ex-fiancé.
Cooper was still on guard for intruders when the newcomer stepped into the light. He was tall, dressed in a preppy overcoat, with dark hair cut neat and thin gold wire-rimmed glasses. He looked like he'd just stepped out of the office-and definitely like he wasn't lurking to case the joint and make off with June's collection of antique thimbles.
"Owen?" Poppy gasped beside him. "What . . . what are you doing here?"
Owen.
Cooper tensed. This was the guy Poppy had left back home, the one she'd broken up with. What the hell was he doing all the way out here? Poppy had said it herself: it was over. She was moving on.
Cooper drew himself up to his full height and casually stepped in front of Poppy. "Cooper Nicholson," he said, sticking out his hand. He held Owen's gaze, steady. "It's kind of late to be showing up unannounced. Maybe you should give Poppy a call in the morning and see if she'd like to talk then."
"Who's this guy?" Owen looked past him. "Poppy?"
"He's . . . just a friend," Poppy answered, sounding stressed. She rested a hand on Cooper's arm. "It's OK, I've got this."
Friend.
It shouldn't have hurt, but it did. One dinner didn't change a thing. He'd thought there'd been something building between them, and when she'd invited him back for dessert, it seemed like she felt it too. But clearly, one look at her old love and she wanted Cooper long gone and out of the way.
He tried to ignore the rejection that slammed over him like a shock of cold water. It was nothing, he told himself. She was free to pick whatever guy she wanted.
Still, he wasn't about to leave her there alone with some psycho ex. "Are you sure?" Cooper searched her face carefully. "Because I can stay."
"I'm sure. I'll talk to you tomorrow. And thanks for dinner," she added with a small smile. "I had fun."
Fun. The kind you had with a guy who was just friends.
Cooper resisted the urge to slam the door in this guy's face and show Poppy what "fun" could really mean. That kiss was just a preview. Now that he knew how sweet she tasted, he could spend days getting lost in her touch, making her gasp and moan for more.
But that was just a fantasy. The real world was staring him right back in the face, waiting politely for him to go.
He nodded brusquely. "I'll leave you guys to it. Owen, it was good to meet you." Cooper shot him a warning look that made it clear he was on thin ice. If Poppy said the word, he'd happily send Owen packing out of Sweetbriar Cove for good.
Owen cleared his throat and looked away. "You too."
Cooper checked with Poppy again, but it was like she didn't even see him. She was staring at Owen with a flood of emotion in her eyes.
He should have guessed it wasn't over.
"Goodnight," he said quietly. It felt wrong somehow, to be turning his back on Poppy, and even worse to leave her alone with another man, but Cooper wasn't about to cause a scene. Like she said, they were just friends. He didn't have any right to the disappointment burning in his chest, so he clenched his jaw and climbed back in the truck, driving away fast enough to make the tires spin on the gravel road.
He was a damn fool.
Of course Poppy thought of him as just a friend, he'd been combative and grumpy since the day they met. And sure, he thought they'd connected-that time at the drive-in, and dinner tonight-but he guessed that didn't do anything to overcome his bad first impression.
Or second. Or third.
Cooper slammed his hand against the steering wheel. He couldn't even be mad at Owen for showing up like that. Poppy was a woman worth chasing. No, he'd screwed this one up all on his own, the same way he always did.
He drove for home, but it was like his hands had a mind of their own: they steered him miles past his own turn, to where a lane curved into the woods and the bumpy track dipped and wove through the trees. He'd cursed this dirt road a hundred times over, getting stuck in potholes and rained out by the storm. It was near impossible to get the building supplies in, but he'd made it happen eventually.
Cooper bounced over the last fallen branch and turned the corner. There it was: a small, rustic house sitting squarely by the pond. The lights were all off, and he figured the tourists he'd sold to were still out of town until summer, but still, he turned off the engine and sat there in the dark for a moment, just remembering.
This used to be his house. His, and Laura's. He'd fixed it up for them, that first year, imagining the life they'd spend there together and the family they'd raise, right here.
"What about if you believe it? If you think you have everything, and it doesn't work out."