Meant to Be (Sweetbriar Cove #1)(37)

Owen shook his head. "I'd prefer to get on the road."

"OK." Poppy toyed with her mug. She felt like she should say something, but she wasn't sure what was left to say. Maybe Owen had imagined this last-ditch effort chasing after her would change her mind, but it had only made her resolve stronger. Looking at him now, she felt affection and regret, but the kind you feel for an old friend whose life has taken a different path. Not the excitement she dreamed about in a partner, the love she'd been writing for her characters all these years.

She'd felt more passion in one kiss with Cooper than she had in her whole relationship with Owen.

"We had it good though, didn't we?" Owen gave her a nostalgic smile. "For a while, at least."

"We did." Poppy reached out and squeezed his hand. "I'm sorry, for everything."

"I know." He squeezed back. "But you're right. I think a part of me has always known you're right." He looked rueful. "I guess just because something adds up on paper doesn't mean it's real."

"You'll find it," she reassured him. "You're a good man, and somewhere, there's a woman who can't wait to meet you. And hey, maybe she'll love Doctor Who, too."

He smiled. "It would be nice to share my hobbies with someone," he agreed. "I always felt like you didn't really understand."

"Oh, I didn't." Poppy grinned. "I tried, but I pretty much started zoning out every time you mentioned regeneration and the star wars."

"Time Wars," he corrected her.

"There you go."

Owen finished his tea and stood. "I better hit the road."

She showed him to the door again, and watched him pull his coat back on. "Thank you, for coming out here." Poppy felt a curious mix of sadness and resolve. "I think it was good, to see each other like this."

"Without passions running high." Owen nodded. "You take care," he said, giving her an abrupt hug.

"You too." Poppy hugged him back.

"And about that friend of yours . . ." Owen paused in the doorway. "It's none of my business, but the way he was glaring at me, I'm guessing there's more than friendship on his mind."

Poppy flushed. "Maybe," she admitted. "But I'm not sure we're compatible."

Owen raised an eyebrow. "Weren't you the one who said love can't be calculated by a pro/con list?"

There he was with the logic again.

"Take care," Poppy said, as he headed out into the dark night. "Travel safe."

She closed the door behind him, and it felt like she was closing a chapter of her life. She looked around the cottage, warm and cozy, and felt a sense of peace sweep through her.

Whatever came next was up to her.

She saw her phone sitting on the entry table, and wondered what Cooper was doing. Was he home alone, kicked back watching TV? Or working on some project, late into the night?

Was he thinking about her, the way she was thinking about him-his smile, his body, his mouth . . . ?



       
         
       
        

Poppy shook away those tempting thoughts. She couldn't just call him up and invite him over now, to pick right up where they'd left off on their date. No, she sighed. It was late and the moment had definitely passed.

Then her gaze landed on the paper bag with the dessert box. She smiled, and went to cut herself a slice. She sat in the kitchen, and savored every bite. She may not have any idea what was going on with Cooper, but she had apple pie, and a whole new beginning.

The rest could wait until tomorrow.





14





Poppy sent Cooper a text the next morning, thanking him for dinner-but there was no reply. She tried not to read into it. He was probably busy with work or some project, and besides, Cooper never struck her as the texting kind. She'd see him soon enough at the house, or around town.

At least, she hoped she would.

She got dressed and packed up her laptop, with a thermos of coffee and a couple of cozy knit blankets, then she set out along the beach path, eager to spend her first morning writing in her new beach hut-slash-office. The air was brisk, but the sun was out, and making her way through the fresh green of the woods, Poppy thought how lucky she was to be in Sweetbriar, instead of cooped up in her apartment back in the city, or camped out in the corner of some noisy coffee shop, wilting under the fluorescent lights. Here, it was so quiet, she could only hear the sound of the ocean, and a lazy gull circling overhead. The hut was waiting for her, sturdy on the edge of the sand, and soon she had the doors flung wide open and was snuggled up in the armchair, watching the slate blue waves break over the empty sands.