Page 49 of Her Wild Coast Promise

He continues up the donation scale. With each spike in price, the donor pool gets smaller. We finish at the fifty thousand mark. One of the three remaining donors is Cullen Reece, Peyton’s father, who makes a point of finding my gaze as his number and his name is announced.

Smug bastard. Meanwhile Peyton looks on proudly, though there’s an edge to her smile. Like she’s not happy about sharing the spotlight, even though Cullen’s the one with the checkbook. Though Peyton and I never talked about our families, I think there’s something off about her relationship with her dad. Peyton overachieves in every aspect of her life, almost like she’s constantly trying to prove herself to him while he mostly ignores her. She was never warm and cuddly with me, which was okay considering we weren’t like that together, but the more I got to know her the colder she got. The day I left for Vonnie and Noah’s wedding, she got angry that I hadn’t invited her. I almost missed my flight trying to explain my way out of it.

The argument ended badly, but I thought we’d talk about it after we both had a chance to cool off.

But spending that weekend with Cora was like a breath of fresh air. Being with her was easy,fun. It reminded me that life is short and to spend it with people I care about—and who care back.

When I returned to McKenzie, I told Peyton we were through.

Music cranks up from the speakers, and guests vacate the tables for the dance floor. I push thoughts of Peyton’s confusing tactics and our complicated past and offer Cora my hand. “May I have this dance, boss?”

Her smile turns her cheeks a soft shade of pink. “I’d be delighted, Deputy.”

It takes us two songs to make it to the dance floor thanks to the guests who want to shake my hand and chat with me and Cora about the campaign. The conversations flow easier now that most people have a few drinks in them and are feeling good about supporting a worthy cause.

I thank my supporters, and Cora reminds them of the upcoming debate and to vote on election day.

By the time we finally reach the dance floor, my feet ache from the dress shoes and my head is buzzing from so much attention.

From the edge of the dance floor, Peyton catches my eye. She’s standing with her father and two other men I don’t know but remember from the paddle call as the other big spenders.

“You did well tonight,” Cora says, beaming up at me.

I just manage to hold back from kissing her in gratitude. “Thanks to you.”

She scoffs. “I didn’t make that speech that raised all that money.”

“You wrote it,” I counter.

“All I did was highlight what you shared with me. They were your words, not mine.”

“Thank you, Cora.”

“You’re welcome.”

“It’s going to reflect well on your campaign,” she says, following my lead in a slow twirl. “I can already tell.”

“We still have five weeks left of it,” I remind her. That’s hard enough, but if Peyton has more mudslinging in mind, it’s going to be a marathon.

“One day at a time, one event at a time,” she says as I pull her close. The way her body relaxes in my hold, even for this brief moment, sends a pulse of warmth through my chest. I wish I could wipe away all of her troubles with just my embrace. She smells fresh, like citrus. Like happiness.

“You and Heidi seemed to hit it off,” I say.

“She’s amazing,” Cora replies. “She told me the two of you don’t always see eye to eye, but I could tell she respects you.”

“The feeling is mutual.”

“She was very curious about my work with Victim’s Comp,” Cora says. “Doesn’t Alaska have compensation programs?”

“Yes, but underfunded, and not very effective. Because Alaska residents get oil money, the state budget committee has claimed that families don’t need a separate fund.”

“That’s too bad.”

Peyton and her dance partner slip past us, bringing the temperature down several degrees, like a cloud covering the sun. She gives Cora a snide look.

Cora ignores this, and instead leans closer, like she doesn’t want to be overheard. “Are you aware that her friends talked trash about you after the breakup?”

I lean back so I can see her face. “First of all, we didn’t break up. That would imply we were actually dating, which we weren’t.” It was surprisingly easy. In fact, it was a relief.

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