Meant to Be (Sweetbriar Cove #1)(42)

Poppy climbed out of her car and marched up to the door. She knocked firmly, before she had a chance to take it back.

"Just a sec!" Cooper's yell came from inside, and Poppy was almost about to turn on her heel and race back to the safety of her car when the door opened, and there he was.

Her pulse skipped.

Cooper was barefoot, wearing jeans and a faded black T-shirt. He looked scruffy, and relaxed, and devastatingly handsome, and for a moment, Poppy's mind went blank and her blood ran hot.

She wanted him bad.

"Poppy?" Cooper looked at her with a cautious expression. "Everything OK?"

"Wine," she managed to blurt, holding out the bottle. Think! "I mean, there was leftover from the book group. I thought we could share a glass."

And a kiss.

And your bed.

Cooper paused. "Are you sure you don't have other plans?" he asked slowly. "Like with that ex of yours?"

His gaze searched hers, and Poppy silently groaned. She was right-he'd gotten the wrong idea about her and Owen, and thought something was still going on. 

"No plans," Poppy said firmly. "Owen just needed . . . to talk it out. Tidy up loose ends. But he agrees it's for the best that it's over between us."

Cooper's lips curled in a smile. "So he didn't want to stick around?"

"Nope." Poppy shook her head quickly. "He left last night. He's probably back in the city by now."

"Probably for the best." Cooper grinned.

"For the best," Poppy echoed, smiling back.

She felt it again, that champagne anticipation that had shivered during their date last night. Her fears and insecurities melted away, and she sent up silent thanks that she hadn't let Cooper's misconceptions keep her away.

He wanted her, too.

"Well, come on in." Cooper stood aside and opened the door wider. "Sorry for the mess, I wasn't expecting company."

Poppy stepped inside, and looked around curiously. It was an old converted barn, with a wide open main living space with double-height ceilings, furnished in a rustic, comfortable style. There was a galley kitchen along one wall, a huge oak dining table, and a loft-style area up a flight of stairs. His bedroom, she guessed.

"Shall I open the bottle?" Cooper asked, strolling over to the kitchen. "Or did Mackenzie already get you drunk?"

Poppy dragged her attention back from his sleeping arrangements. "You've been to book club, then?"

"The first rule of book club . . ." he quipped, and she laughed.

"It was fun. Not that we did much reading." Poppy drifted after him, taking in the mess of papers covering the table. She paused, looking more closely. There were blueprints and sketches: construction designs, and artist renderings, too. They were beautiful and precise, and clearly showed hours of labor.

Cooper returned and handed her a glass of wine. He saw her looking and seemed embarrassed. "Sorry, I was just working on something. I'll get these out of your way."

"No, leave them. These sketches are amazing." Poppy studied them, impressed. The intricate designs, the attention to detail . . . "I didn't know you were an architect, too."

Cooper shrugged. "It's nothing. Just some plans, maybe. I love restoring the older houses, but it would be fun to build from scratch one day."

"Is this the house you're working on at the beach?" she asked, pulling out some sheets with the front elevation planned.

"Yup. I was thinking of adding dormer windows here, upstairs," he pointed out. "And then a balcony area with French doors off the master, so you wake up every morning to that ocean view."

"That sounds incredible," she said, envious that someone would get to enjoy all the product of his labors. "Your future buyers are one lucky family."

He chuckled. "Let's see if I can get the roof to hold before we talk about how lucky they are. These older houses are tricky, they just don't make them like this anymore. They can be amazing if they're restored right, but they come with a lot more baggage."

"Don't we all?" Poppy joked, and he laughed.

Poppy took a sip of wine to calm herself and looked around the room again. Now that she knew what to look for, Cooper's passion for classic old design came through clearly: the vintage photographs of old Cape Cod buildings, framed blueprints on the wall over the mantel, and the rustic-looking furniture she was sure were antiques. "This is a great place," she said admiringly. "It's hard to find, but I'm guessing you planned it that way."

Cooper gave a boyish grin. "There are advantages to being miles from town. Not so many calls to come fix someone's roof at the last minute."