Page 37 of Her Wild Coast Promise

I relive the moment in the bathroom this morning. Him looking sharp and sinfully hot in his uniform, his hair still wet from his shower and smelling of his minty aftershave. Me in my towel, my pulse like a woodpecker tapping my temples.

“He’s taking great care of me,” I say, then wince at the implications. “He’s practically redecorated his upstairs for me.”

There’s a slight pause, as if my big brother is reading the wistful edge in my voice.

“That’s good to hear.”

Thank heavens he can’t see my face right now, or he’d know something is up.

“I’m on my way to interview Chief Kauffman and his wife.”

“Nice,” he says. “Seth thinks very highly of them.”

“I have a lot of ground to cover in two months.” If I keep talking, maybe I can bluff past his cop radar. “His opponent is going to be tough to beat.”

“How so?”

I summarize Peyton Reece’s campaign tenets, her background, and her deep pockets. “On top of all that, she and Seth were romantically involved.”

“Oof,” he replies. “Is that public knowledge?”

“I don’t think so.” She already accepted my friend requests, so if she’s spread any negativity about Seth, I’ll find it. If Seth is right, Peyton likely wants to keep their relationship under wraps.

“Have you considered looking into the campaign finance records?” Noah asks.

“It’s at the top of my list,” I say.

“Or maybe someone in the D.A.’s office has an axe to grind and can offer up some leverage. If her father is as power-hungry as you suspect, maybe he’s helped pave her way to the top, at the expense of her coworkers.”

“That would crush an ego or two.” My thoughts run wild with this juicy possibility. “On it.”

“I’ll give Seth a call later. I gotta update him on something.”

My radar hums to life. “What kind of update?”

“Easy there, bloodhound,” he replies. “It’s work related.”

“Do you know anything about a task force?”

“Nope,” he replies. “Gotta run. Don’t let Seth work you too hard.”

My throat clenches around my answer, but I manage to force out a goodbye.

Work me too hard?

Don’t I wish.

ChapterTen

CORA

Feelingenergized after my meeting with Bill and Kayla Kauffman, I pull open the heavy glass door of the McKenzie Valley Sheriff’s Department building and slip inside.

Like every small-town police department, a bare entryway with dull linoleum flooring and a single row of unoccupied metal chairs faces a partition of bulletproof glass. Behind it is the bullpen that contains several rows of desks with cubby half-walls, a printing station on the left, and shelves along the back wall.

Inside the waiting area, one wall is plastered with the Most Wanteds and a community bulletin board where lawyers and bail bondsmen like to advertise via business cards and flyers. On the opposite wall, a series of Native American artworks is displayed in matching gilded gold frames, along with a small description of the art and artist.

The receptionist glances up from her computer. “May I help you?”

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