Page 29 of Her Wild Coast Promise

“Seth,” Cora says, sliding her hand over mine and gazing at me with determination and care. “Stay with me, okay? I’ll do my best to make sure the campaign is as painless as possible. I’ll work hard for you. But you have to agree to work hard too.”

I swallow. She’s put me on the spot and I don’t like it. I don’t like the lack of control.

“I know it’s a big ask,” she continues in a soft voice. Her hand on mine is sending messages through my body. I want more of her warmth and softness against me. I want to undress her slowly and kiss each newly revealed inch of skin until she’s bare for me and begging for more.

But these messages conflict with the alarm signals blaring in my brain. I want to point out that the citizens in my valley need to feel safe, and for that, I need to be at work, not making speeches.

Cora keeps her eyes fixed on me with that same fierce kindness. “You wanted me here for a reason, remember?”

I nod, because she’s right.

“You don’t have to like it. I just need you to be willing.”

I laugh, and I squeeze her hand before letting it go. It’s too intense when we touch, and I can’t think straight. “Willing, huh? Okay. I can get behind that.”

“Good.” Her smile brightens.

We spend the last of dinner talking about my rotation schedule and the nights I’m on call. Technically our shifts run five days on, four days off, but I haven’t had a true break since June, let alone taken a vacation. There’s just been too much going on. Too much at stake.

After dinner, Cora and I leave the pizzeria and walk to my truck. Darkness envelops us, with air so thick with night mist it’s like being in a cloud. I walk close to Cora—I can’t help it.

“Tired?” I ask. “You’ve had a long day.”

She covers her yawn, smiling. “Where am I staying, by the way?”

“With me, remember?” I’m sure we already talked about this when I sent her plane ticket. Rentals are hard to come by this time of year. Nobody visits Storm Harbor outside of summer or salmon fishing season, which ended weeks ago. And even if I found a suitable rental, the thought of her working alone all day across town, alone, didn’t sit well with me.

“Oh,” she replies.

“I can get you a hotel instead,” I say, rattled. “No problem.”

Her parted lips press together, like she’s holding something back. “Staying with you is fine.”

“I want you to be comfortable.”But I also want you safe, though I don’t say that out loud. Cora can take care of herself. It’s me. I would worry. So would Noah.

Cora turns to me, her face illuminated by the streetlights. “I am comfortable.”

I watch her pretty eyes for a sign that she’s lying, but they’re clear. “You’ll have the entire upper level to yourself. I’m hardly home anyway. And when I am, you can corner me into practicing speeches and coach me how to swoon voters with my limitless charm.”

She laughs. “How can I refuse an offer like that?”

“If for any reason it’s not working, you tell me.” I don’t mean for this to come out like an order, but I’m amped up and unsure of where we stand and what I’ve signed up for.

“I promise,” she says, taking my offered hand to climb into the passenger seat.

From the parking lot, I drive east, toward my place. The streets are quiet, and I start to relax.

“Seth!” Cora gasps. She’s pointing at something ahead.

My heart judders to a stop.

Lit by a row of fluorescent bulbs is a billboard with Peyton Reece’s picture and her campaign slogan in bold lettering.

“Who the hell is that?” Cora asks.

“Our competition,” I grit out.

ChapterEight

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