He exhaled. He was gripping the steering wheel so tightly, his knuckles were white. Cooper yanked the wheel around and pulled over to park.
It looked like his new neighbor was getting her beauty sleep after all.
He needed a drink.
3
To her surprise-and relief-the earplugs actually worked. Or maybe she was just too tired to let a little light chainsaw action ruin her slumber, but Poppy barely heard a noise from next door. She slept all day, and by the time she'd enjoyed an epic hot shower and unpacked her things in the pretty guest bedroom, she felt just about human again.
And hungry. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd eaten, her stomach had been tied up in knots during the flight, and before that . . . some chips from a vending machine, maybe?
Either way, she needed sustenance, and fast. She pulled on her jeans and a sweater, then headed off into town on foot. It was a bright, blue-skied afternoon, and even though it wasn't quite summer yet, the sun was faint and warming and the breeze danced with a salty ocean tang.
Poppy finally felt herself start to relax. She'd been tense for months, it felt like-with the wedding plans hurtling towards the finish line, and her deadline too-but as she strolled the winding country lane with the ocean glinting on her right, and the leafy woods rising up the hill to Main Street square, for a moment all that stress felt a thousand miles away.
Sweetbriar Cove always had a way of making you feel right at home.
Set in a hollow, mid-way up the Cape, Sweetbriar had been settled by early English colonists-at least according to the town historical society. She hadn't been back in twenty years, but Poppy was pleased to find everything exactly as she remembered. The winding country lanes lined with old Colonial buildings, the green of the town square, and the church spire rising from the top of the hill. She could even swear it was the same flyers advertising the Spring Fling Literary Festival peeling in the grocery store window, and the same calico cat perched on a fencepost outside the hardware store. On closer inspection, there were some new improvements-a chic art gallery tucked next to Franny's Gift Shoppe, a new coffee shop she mentally bookmarked for her morning cup of joe-but the true spirit of Sweetbriar was still alive and well.
Poppy was tempted to stop and browse for a while, but the rumble in her stomach drove her on, until she found the tavern on the corner with a chalkboard outside promising the best fish and chips on the Cape.
Sold.
She ducked inside. It was a homey pub, with traditional wooden beams, old black-and-white nautical photographs on the walls, and a big fireplace across the room. She made a beeline for the bar, which was being tended by a scruffy, surfer-looking man with tousled blond hair. "Is it really the best on the cape?" she asked, nodding to the menu. He grinned.
"According to Big Pete," he said. "And he's the only authority we need."
"He's still around?" Poppy exclaimed. Even she remembered the town mayor, presiding over the Fourth of July fireworks with a flourish, decked out in a top and tails printed with the American flag.
"Still alive and kicking, although slower these days," the man grinned. "They'll have to bury him right here in the square. Really, I think the town hall voted on it last year."
Poppy laughed, just as a familiar voice came from behind her.
"Flirting again, Riley? You should know, pipsqueak here doesn't like boys. We've all got cooties."
Poppy turned, and found herself staring into Cooper's teasing blue eyes again. She felt a flush-then immediately scolded herself. "Only some of them," she said with a glare. "And can you please stop calling me that?"
"Sleep well?" he asked, undaunted.
"No thanks to you." She heard a chuckle, and when Poppy turned back, she found the bartender looking amused.
"Friend of yours?" he asked Cooper.
"She wouldn't put it like that," he said. "Poppy, this is Riley," he introduced them. Riley gave her a wink, and Cooper let out a snort. "Don't mind the smooth talk," he told Poppy. "He flirts with everything that moves."
"Excellent." Poppy smiled, just to get a rise out of him. "I haven't flirted with anyone in forever."
Riley smirked. "I like this one. Food? Beer?" he asked her, and won her undying affection. At least someone had priorities.
"All of the above," Poppy answered, and he gave a salute.
"Coming right up."
Riley disappeared in to the back, and Cooper slid easily onto the stool beside Poppy. "So how's life as a big-shot romance author?" he asked.
"How do you-? Oh, June," Poppy realized. "I should have guessed." She remembered the time her aunt came to visit-and then proceeded to move all her books to the front section of the store, proudly telling everyone within earshot that her niece was the bestseller. Poppy loved her enthusiasm, just wished it wasn't quite so . . . public. "Tell me she doesn't brag too much," she said, just imagining what the town must think of her.