Page 46 of Her Wild Coast Promise

I stare, the longing to touch her like fire in my belly. The idea of us staying home tonight just the two of us returns. We could dance in the kitchen, make dinner together, then curl up by the fire.

My big hands fumble with the tiny zipper pull, but I manage to close it and the little hook at the top. I almost thank that little extra closure because it’s like a lock, reminding me of tonight’s true purpose—which is sadly not getting her out of this dress.

“Thanks,” she says, and spins. Her smile is bright and confident, and her eyes sparkle.

“You’re looking sharp, Sheriff.” She winks, and it takes everything I have to keep my hands at my sides.

“You look beautiful, Cora.”

She slips the wool coat from her arm. “Gotta look the part, right?”

“I mean it.”

Her eyebrows knit together, as if she’s reading my distress. “Thank you.”

Gently, I take the coat from her and hold it open.

She spins away and slides both arms into it. The motion brings us closer, her silky hair tickling my chin and her subtle, spicy scent drawing me in. I cradle her shoulders for one precious moment before reluctantly stepping back.

We say goodbye to Rosie, who will be getting pampered tonight by Mr. and Mrs. Robson, and I slip the keys from the hook and open the door for Cora. She strides past, giving me a moment to quiet my churning thoughts.

On the drive to the banquet hall, we talk strategy, but it’s hard to concentrate with her so near, smelling so good, with her legs crossed and her high heeled shoe bouncing as she talks.

“Your speech is at 8:30. Do you need to practice one more time beforehand? We could probably find a quiet corner of the hotel.”

I almost choke. Quiet corner of the hotel? “I’m good.”

“Remember to seek out Mayor Springfield and his wife, Arletta.”

“Got it.”

We pull up to the hotel entrance and the valet opens the door for Cora and helps her down, then takes my keys.

I offer Cora my arm, and she beams up at me as she takes it.

Together, we walk into the hotel. The lobby is decorated with glittery snowflakes and a Christmas tree in the center, complete with a collection of fake presents, even though we’ve barely passed Halloween. On the flat screen TV facing the chairs is an image of a crackling fire. It’s quaint, but it just makes me crave my own living room and the sound of real wood burning in my real wood stove.

At the banquet room entrance, Cora slips her arm from mine to remove her coat. I step behind her to help. The hum of music and conversation from inside the space crowds out my inner turmoil.

Cora inhales a tight gasp.

Alarmed, I turn from the coat attendant. Across the room stands Peyton Reece, laughing at something her father and a man I can’t identify has just said.

As if she’s been waiting all night for this moment, Peyton turns to me, an edge in her expression.

My throat burns like I’ve swallowed Windex.

“Since when did she join the guest list?” Cora whispers.

“It’s okay,” I reassure her, still staring Peyton down.

Cora releases a slow exhale. “Are you sure?”

“Yep.”

“All right. Let’s do this.”

I give her a look, and we both laugh. The tension in my spine eases, but before I can reply, another party arrives, forcing us into the room.

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