Meant to Be (Sweetbriar Cove Book 1)

by Melody Grace

  “Is that what he is, then?”

  Poppy paused. “I don’t know,” she admitted, those thoughts from earlier in the evening resurfacing again. “It’s all still pretty new. We only got together a few days ago.”

  June gasped. “No! And here I am interrupting! I’m surprised you even came up for air. When I met my third husband, we ran away to a little motel outside Jacksonville and didn’t get out of bed for a week.”

  Poppy laughed. June had an illustrious romantic history, to say the least. “It’s fine,” she reassured her. “We’ll make up for lost time at his place, don’t worry.”

  June grinned at her. “Oh, it’s good to see you like this. I knew that Owen wasn’t right for you, there was no oomph to the two of you. All head, no heart.”

  “Owen wasn’t a bad guy,” Poppy defended him. “But, you’re right. It feels different with Cooper. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way,” she admitted.

  June nodded approvingly. “Well, you know I’d love to see more of you. You’re welcome to stay as long as you like.”

  “Thank you,” Poppy said. “I don’t know what my plans are yet, there’s still plenty of writing left for me to do.”

  “Is Cooper helping with the research?” June cackled.

  Poppy blushed. “Maybe.”

  “I look forward to reading all about it.”

  Poppy caught up with June’s cruising adventures, then took a shower and settled in to write. Before long, the construction noise started up and a loud sawing noise was filtering through the windows. Once, it would have driven her to distraction, but this time, she heard the noise and smiled.

  Cooper was working hard.

  She forced herself to stay at her computer, even as she itched to see him again. It was a good thing he was on a schedule at the site, otherwise her own writing calendar would be out the window. Still, it was hard to focus with memories of their night together playing vividly in her mind. Every kiss. Every touch.

  Every slow, deep thrust.

  She shivered. It was hard to believe anything could top that first night, but somehow, it just kept getting better. Or rather, Cooper did. He wasn’t just good with his hands. No, that man was good everywhere.

  Poppy dragged her attention back to work, typing quietly in the study while June bustled around, getting settled back in, and the sound of construction continued steadily outside the windows. By noon, she had ten pages under her belt, and was ready for a break.

  Aunt June was on the phone, broadcasting her return to everyone in town, so she took her third cup of coffee from the pot and strolled out to the back porch. It was getting warmer now, the season shifting over to spring, and the fruit trees in the garden were budding with new blossoms. Poppy breathed in a lungful of the crisp sea air, and tried not to think about the life waiting for her back home. Her little apartment had always been a refuge to cloister herself away and write, but now it somehow seemed small compared to this expanse of blue ocean in front of her, memories of the city streets dense and noisy as she looked out at the woods and gently curving bay and wide, windswept shore.

  “Tell me there’s still a pot brewing, and I’ll give you everything I own.”

  Poppy turned. Cooper was strolling over from the neighboring yard. Was it just her, or did his eyes seem extra-blue in the morning sun?

  “Here, take this one.” She offered him her mug. “I would have sent you off with a Thermos, but you ran out of here so fast . . .”

  Cooper chuckled. “Sorry about that. I, uh, wasn’t expecting your aunt.”

  “Nobody does. She’s like the Spanish inquisition,” Poppy quipped.

  Cooper took the mug, and a kiss too, his stubble scratching lightly against her skin. “Angel.” He took a seat on the back steps beside her, and gulped it down. “So how was your interrogation?”

  “June, you mean?” Poppy said. “Not too bad. Once I got over the abject humiliation of getting caught with my pants down, I mean.”

  “I seem to recall your pants weren’t the ones that were down,” Cooper corrected her with a wry smile.

  “Ah, yes,” June’s voice came from the porch. “I recall that too. Vividly.”

  Poppy groaned, turning. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t if I were you,” June said. “Oh, relax. Cooper’s man enough to take some jokes from an old dame like me.”

  “You’re not a day over thirty-five,” Cooper said with a broad grin.

  “See, he’s a keeper.” June chuckled. “Do you want to join us for lunch, hon? It looks like you’re working up an appetite.”

  Poppy shook her head. There was really no stopping her.

  “I’ll pass today, thanks June,” Cooper said. “Another time.”

  “Count on it.” The phone rang. “Ooh, that’ll be Larry,” June said, and disappeared back into the house. Cooper caught Poppy’s gaze.

  “She’s a character, isn’t she?”

  “She was always my favorite relative growing up,” Poppy confided. “She always told me the truth, not just what she thought you wanted to hear, like all the other grown-ups.”

  Cooper nodded. “She would stop by a lot, back when my dad was dying.” He traced her hand, turning it over in his. Poppy watched him, the wry smile on his face edged with sadness. “Everyone was bringing casseroles and healthy snacks,” he explained. “But she’d show up with a bottle of whiskey and his favorite ice cream. I would hear them laughing, playing cards, or gossiping. I didn’t get to hear him laugh much those days.”

  Poppy squeezed his hand. Cooper seemed to realize what he’d said. He gave her a shrug. “She was a good friend to him. That’s why I don’t mind, when she, you know . . .”

  “Is wildly inappropriate?”

  “Something like that.” He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it, so naturally, it made her stomach flip over. “Anyway, I just stopped by to see if you wanted to head into Provincetown. I have to pick up some supplies, but we could get lunch, and you could walk around, or write?”

  “That sounds great,” Poppy said, smiling. “I’ve been meaning to drive up there. I have this vivid memory from when I was a kid, eating lobster rolls, right on the pier.”

  “Then lobster rolls it is.”

  They drove up the coast with the windows wide open and the sea air whipping Poppy’s hair into a tangle. She didn’t mind. It was a perfect spring day, bright and blue-skied, and it seemed like they had the whole Cape to themselves. In a few months, the beaches would be packed with vacationers, crowding for the Fourth of July fireworks and lining up for ice cream on the pier, but for now, the road wound through lush green plains, with the empty shore unfurling lazily alongside. She hadn’t thought ahead yet to her summer plans, but now the possibilities danced, tempting on the breeze. She’d thought she’d be setting up house with Owen in the city, hosting BBQs in his postage-stamp backyard and working her way through her thank-you notes for their wedding, but that plan was ancient history now. An alternate life in some parallel universe she couldn’t even picture, it felt so far away.

  “Penny for them?” Cooper asked, as the road forked into Provincetown.

  “Nothing.” Poppy glanced over. “Just thinking . . . it’s funny how things turn out.”

  He reached over to take her hand. “It sure is.”

  She knew they should talk soon about what it was they were doing and if she should stay in town for longer, but Poppy didn’t want to wreck the moment. For now, she was still wrapped in that delicious haze of new beginnings and wanted it to last for as long as possible. So they ate lobster rolls from that same place Poppy remembered from twenty years ago, sitting on a wooden bench overlooking the bay, and strolled the winding, old streets hand in hand, until Cooper had to make his detour to the building supplies yard.

  “I shouldn’t be long,” he said, pulling her in for a quick kiss. “An hour, maybe? I’ll call when I’m done.”

  “That’s perfect.” Poppy looked a
round, spying the old library just ahead. “I brought my laptop so I can squeeze in a few more words.”

  Cooper headed back to his truck, and Poppy hitched her bag higher and made her way over to the library entrance. It was an old converted church with soaring ceilings, and inside, she was surprised to find a replica of a schooner boat sitting slap-bang in the middle of the main floor, the sails stretching fifteen feet high. Mackenzie was right: they loved their nautical history here on the Cape. Off to one side, there was a reading room, and Poppy finally settled in to work, enjoying the quiet hum of conversation around her, and the bursts of children’s voices from the story-time across the room. The hour drifted past, sunlight spilling on the floors around her, and Poppy found herself writing easily, speeding through the action on the page. She checked her plot outline and felt a sense of satisfaction. Despite her bumpy start, she had flown through the book these past couple of weeks. At this rate, she’d be done by the end of the month.

  And then . . . ?

  Poppy paused. All her earlier thoughts about the future bubbled to the surface again, but this time, she didn’t push them back.

  She could see herself here, for more than just a brief vacation.

  Poppy weighed the idea cautiously. She’d only been there a little while, but already, it felt like home. Not just the way she felt with Cooper; it was more than that—the sense of community in Sweetbriar, the real feeling of belonging that had somehow wrapped around her. She knew it was impulsive to think about uprooting her life and moving halfway across the country, but still, she couldn’t help imagining the days and weeks ahead, as spring turned to summer on the Cape, and their relationship deepened, and became something real. She could stay another month . . . she could rent a place for the summer . . .

  Was it crazy to think like this?

  She’d spent years writing about people who went to the ends of the earth for love. Moving to Sweetbriar, just to test the waters, seemed almost sensible in comparison. But this was real life, not the stories in her books, and Poppy didn’t know if she was getting way ahead of herself in pursuit of that happy ending.

  She’d never felt like this before.

  Another burst of children’s voices cut through her thoughts. The story-time was ending, and a group of parents and toddlers were chatting among the books. One small kid in a blue jumpsuit toddled determinedly towards Poppy, and collapsed with a thud on the carpet to examine the brightly-colored scarf spilling from her bag.

  “Brady!” A blonde woman detached from the group and hurried over. “I’m sorry,” she said with an apologetic smile. “Brady, that’s not yours.”

  “It’s OK.” Poppy smiled. Brady was tugging the scarf out of her bag, looking amazed as the colors kept unfurling. “He can play if he wants.”

  “Thank you,” the woman said, looking frazzled. “He’s just at that stage where he wants to touch everything. I swear we’ve childproofed the house a dozen times, but he still finds something. We might just build an addition with no outlets, no wires, nothing.”

  “How old is he?” Poppy asked. Brady was happily chewing on the wool. He was plump and sturdy, wearing cute little red boots.

  “Coming up on eighteen months. I’m Laura, by the way.”

  “Nice to meet you. Poppy.”

  “That’s such a cute name.” Laura brightened. “We wanted to be surprised by the sex, but I was so sure he’d be a girl I had a whole list of flower names picked. And then this munchkin comes along.” She grinned affectionately and picked him up, cradling him easily on her hip. “Do you have kids?”

  Poppy shook her head. “Not yet.”

  Laura bounced little Brady. “Well, when you do, two words for you: safety tape.”

  Poppy laughed. “I’ll try to remember that.”

  “Anyway, sorry to interrupt.”

  “It’s OK.” Poppy checked the time. It was almost two, and she was set to meet Cooper. “I need to get going, anyway.” She packed up her computer and gently retrieved her scarf from Brady’s chubby little hands.

  “Say goodbye, Brady.” Laura waved, and Brady mimicked her with a gurgle.

  “He’s too cute,” Poppy said.

  Laura smiled. “It helps when it’s two a.m. and he’s teething, that’s for sure.”

  Poppy shook Brady’s outstretched hand, his fist closing tightly around her finger. “Nice to meet you,” she told him, and he answered by gripping even tighter. “I’m going to need that back,” she joked.

  “Brady,” Laura scolded him playfully. “What have I told you about stealing fingers?”

  Poppy gently peeled her hand away, laughing. That’s when she caught sight of Cooper watching them from across the room with the strangest expression on his face.

  19

  Cooper felt it like a punch in the gut, watching two parts of his life collide right in front of him. Poppy, standing there, chatting to Laura as if it were the most natural thing in the world. They laughed together, cooing over Laura’s kid, and every muscle in his body turned to lead.

  The woman he was falling for and the one who’d taught him his love would never be enough. What sick joke was the universe playing, throwing them together in his face like this?

  Poppy looked up and saw him, waving him over with a smile. Cooper wanted to bolt, but he forced his emotions back and walked over like nothing was wrong.

  “Cooper.” Laura blinked, looking surprised. “I didn’t know . . . Hi.”

  Poppy looked back and forth between them. “You guys know each other? Of course you do,” she added with a laugh. “I need to get used to this small-town thing. Let me guess, you went to elementary school together?”

  “No, not quite.” Laura gave him a soft smile. “It’s good to see you, Cooper. How have you been?”

  “Fine,” Cooper answered shortly. She looked good, but then, she always did. Even the shadows under her eyes couldn’t spoil Laura’s natural glow. She bounced the kid on her hip, looking like she’d been born to be a mother. This was what she’d wanted. They’d planned for two kids, maybe three. Both of them had been only children, and they’d agreed they wanted a whole brood.

  It came rushing back, the feelings he’d thought were behind him now. The guilt. The betrayal. Everything they’d dreamed together, and everything that had crumbled in the end. Because he hadn’t been enough for her; he hadn’t done enough to make her stay. His biggest failure was staring him straight in the face, and damn, it made him feel like a fool.

  He’d tried to forget, but he guessed the universe had a way of reminding him. He couldn’t leave this behind if he tried.

  Poppy was still smiling, oblivious to the hurricane beating in his chest. “Brady here decided he wanted to nibble on my scarf,” she explained. “So we were just—”

  “I need to get back,” he told Poppy abruptly, interrupting her. “I’m running late.”

  Poppy gave him a puzzled look. “Sure. Anyway, it was nice to meet you.” She smiled at Laura . “And hey, if you need help on that child-proof addition, this is your guy.”

  “I’ll keep it in mind.”

  He could feel Laura’s gaze on him, but he looked away to avoid the blame and bitterness he was certain must still be lingering there. “The crew will be waiting for me,” he said, impatient. He didn’t even wait for Poppy to say goodbye before he turned and walked fast for the exit. Outside, the street was busy, but he cut through to where he’d parked his truck without pausing to see if she’d followed. He climbed in and started the engine, gripping the steering wheel hard.

  The past bore down on him, heavy with regret.

  It shouldn’t be this hard.

  What made him think it would be any different this time?

  “What was that?” Poppy climbed in, interrupting echoes of the past. “You bolted so fast, you didn’t even say goodbye.”

  “I told you, I’m late.” He drove off with a lurch, pulling a U-turn in the street to head back towards the highway. Poppy grabbed her seatbelt and buc
kled up quick.

  “Cooper?”

  He ignored her, wishing like hell he could be somewhere else right now. Alone, away from Poppy’s curious stare and the confusion in her eyes.

  “Cooper!” Her voice finally broke through. “Slow down. Please.”

  He realized he was speeding and took his foot off the gas. “Sorry,” he said gruffly, and Poppy exhaled.

  “Are you OK? What happened?”

  He shook his head. “It’s fine.”

  Poppy didn’t look away, but Cooper fixed his eyes on the road. What could he say, anyway? That woman you were just talking to? There was a time I thought she was the one I would spend the rest of my life with. Besides, he already knew the first question out of her lips would be to ask why things ended between them, and Cooper didn’t want to see the look on her face when he had to admit that it had all been his fault.

  He’d driven Laura away. He’d ruined everything. And given time, he would wind up doing the same thing with Poppy, too.

  That bullet wound in his chest got bigger. Damn. Poppy.

  He was going to hurt her in the end.

  He didn’t want to, he’d do anything to keep her from the pain, but how the hell was it going to turn out any different? He already knew this was how it ended: with fights and recriminations. He’d loved Laura; they’d been happy once upon a time, but sure enough, the bickering had turned to yelling, and the connection between them had crumbled away until they were just two strangers in the same house staring at each other from across an unbridgeable canyon.

  He couldn’t bear it if he did that to Poppy, too. If he dimmed the light in her eyes, even for a second, it would be a damn crime.

  He drove, lost in thought, until they were back outside June’s place. He parked and shut off the engine. Poppy looked over. “Thanks for lunch,” she offered. “Maybe I can come by tonight? Leave June the house to settle in. And lock the door,” she added with a laugh.

  Cooper felt torn in two. He wanted nothing more than to lose himself in her again, turn the clocks back to when it was just the two of them, and the real world didn’t matter. But the bitter weight was pressing in his chest, and he needed space to get his head straight.