Page 26 of Where the Blacktop Ends (Whitewood Creek Farm #1)

“Georgia Cameron!” James practically shrieks as I finish recounting what happened with Troy after the party last weekend.

“I know. But in my defense, you were the one who encouraged me to drink all that champagne. My inhibitions were down and he’s so freaking hot, even if he is a total asshole.”

James snickers, shaking his head as we walk, Liam nestled comfortably in my arms. He’s two years old, but I remember from helping to raise Evie and Ember— Kids are never too old—or too big—to want to be carried. Especially in a city that feels oversized to them.

I noticed it the first time we took the train here—the noise, the crowds, the chaos—it all spooked him.

For a moment, I considered turning back and heading straight to the Hamptons.

But slowly, he’s come out of his shell during our visits, and now he’s all smiles, waving and pointing, his excitement building with each new discovery and his vocabulary growing.

Today’s little field trip has turned into the perfect way to introduce him to interesting sights, smells, people and teach him new words.

Though I’m not much of a city girl myself, seeing the joy on his face as he takes in the Halloween decorations on every storefront and at James' office has made the trip worth it.

“So, he really froze like a statue? And neither of you have mentioned it since?” James asks, his voice dripping with amusement.

“Yep,” I reply, dramatically popping the ‘P.’

James snickers.

“But I avoided him all weekend—except for when I called him out on the back deck about Liam. I’m still pissed he didn’t mention he’s running for governor—in another state, no less. That feels like crucial interview material, right? I mean this changes things for me. It changes everything.”

James tilts his head. “If you’d known upfront, would you have taken the job?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Would you have gone back to Texas when the Smiths left?”

I grit my teeth. He’s right, and we both know it. I wouldn’t have gone home. Not yet. It feels like I still have more to do here. More room to spread my wings and explore.

“Probably not.”

He shrugs. “Then it shouldn’t matter that much.”

“It’s not just about losing the job,” I sigh. “It’s the fact that he didn’t even think to tell me so that I could prepare Liam. I need to prepare him, you know?”

“He probably did consider it,” James shrugs. “He just didn’t think it was important enough to bring up yet. Plus, Liam’s not going to understand what it means if you tell him he’s moving to another state.”

“Excuse me. Whose side are you on?”

“Yours, always,” James replies, holding up his hands in surrender. “I’m just saying, cut the guy a little slack. Maybe he was going to tell you that night, but then, you kissed him and threw him into cardiac arrest. He’s old, you know? And you’re... you. It’s a lot to handle.”

I roll my eyes as we continue down the sidewalk, finally arriving back at his office just as his lunch break wraps up.

“Ghosts! Ghosts! Ghosts!” Liam chants, pointing at the Halloween decorations inside the lobby.

James smiles, reaching out to pinch Liam’s cheek affectionately. “He’s so smart.”

“He loves Halloween decorations. Mind if we take a look one more time before heading back to the Hamptons?”

“Back where you belong with Troy,” James teases as we follow him inside.

One hour later, we’re on the train headed back to the Marshall home. The entire ride James’ words run through my head. Would I have taken the job even if I knew Troy would potential be moving Liam to North Carolina? Is my frustration towards Troy misplaced?

I’m not sure, but it still feels wrong that he kept this from me.

He trusted me with his grandson’s life, but not with something as huge as his run for governor.

It feels like his priorities are skewed.

And what did he mean when he said he’s doing all of this ” for his family “? What family? The only family he’s told me about is his son, Max, and Liam.

I decide later tonight I’m going to do some digging—something I should’ve done before I accepted this job. Who exactly is Troy, beyond the man I work for?

As we step off the train and into the quaint town, my phone buzzes with a notification. It’s from Troy—a rare sight since he hasn’t texted me since the night that he saw me eating naked in his kitchen.

Troy : You took Liam to the city.

Georgia : Is that a question or a statement?

Troy : Question.

Before I can respond, Liam tugs on my sleeve. “Look! Look! A ’susss!” he exclaims, pointing at a squirrel munching on an acorn just off the sidewalk.

“Good job, buddy! Squirrel, ” I pronounce the word slowly, exaggerating each syllable.

“A ‘ swirl, ” he repeats, trying again and doing better this time.

“Woohoo!” I cheer, and we do a little celebratory dance in the street. His determination to mimic the words is so heartwarming, and I couldn’t be prouder. I squeeze his hand as we continue our walk, Liam excitedly pointing out every squirrel we pass on the short walk from the station to his home.

By the time we get back, I’m wrapped up in dinner prep, then bath time, and finally, tucking him into bed at precisely 7’oclock, under his new tractor bedspread—the one we picked out in the city and paid for with Troy’s money.

His new bedside lamp casts a soft glow, illuminating the pages of his chosen book for the night, ′ Where’s Spot? ′

Only when Liam’s fumbling to open up one of the flaps on the page to find Spot that I realize I never responded to Troy’s text from earlier.

Oh well.

“Is he under the bed?”

“No!” Liam squeals, flipping up the bedspread flap in the book and squealing when it’s a crocodile instead.

“What about… in the dresser?”

“No!” Liam squeals again, opening the doors to the dress and finding some monkeys. His grin widens.

“What about in your… belly?” I joke, tickling him furiously under the blankets as he squeals happily and tries to squirm away.

“Alright, buddy. I’m going to turn off this bedside lamp, but your night light’s still on, and I’m just down the hall, sleeping too. If you need me, just call out and I’ll hear you through that camera on the wall, okay?”

Liam nods, a slow yawn stretching his little mouth as his eyes blink heavy and slow. We’ve been running all over the city today—he’s going to sleep hard tonight. His fingers curl around mine, warm and trusting. “Goodnight,” he mumbles, already halfway under.

“Good night, Liam. See you in the morning.”

His breathing deepens almost immediately, his chest rising and falling steadily as he drifts off.

I linger for a few moments, watching him in quiet awe.

There’s something so magical about children—such innocence, such beauty.

His dark lashes fan over his cheeks and his fists relax.

I think of Troy’s son, the one he talks so highly of, and it’s hard to imagine how anyone could walk away from seeing this—these simple, profound moments that he’s missing out on.

I lie beside him for a few minutes, my mind racing—running through the week ahead, the possibility of it all being ripped away if Troy moves him to North Carolina and what I’ll do next.

The thought tightens in my chest. Carefully, I slip out of bed, moving slow, quiet.

I ease the door open, sliding out with my back to the room—only to collide with something. No—someone.

“Eep!” I squeak as a strong hand covers my mouth and pulls me backward.

“Shh... sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” Troy’s voice whispers. “I don’t want to wake him.”

He spins me around, his hands now firmly planted on my hips, holding me so close I can feel him against my chest.

He smells like cologne and something darker—bourbon?

Whiskey, maybe? I didn’t know Troy drank, but the scent is an intoxicating blend that makes me instantly relax in his hold.

His body presses against mine, and even though he’s holding me to keep me from freaking out, there’s something else in the way he grips me, something unspoken that says he wanted to touch me, too.

I’ve been avoiding him since Saturday morning, and now, with his dark hair perfectly styled messier than usual, his suit jacket off, and his white button-up shirt rolled at the sleeves revealing tattooed forearms, he’s a welcome sight.

His eyes—strong, intense—are locked on mine and I wonder if he’s missed me too.

“Were you... lurking there, waiting for me to finish with him?” I ask, raising an eyebrow once I’ve gathered myself enough to speak.

He shakes his head. “No, I wanted to say goodnight to him, but then I saw you two together, and I just…”

“Watched us?” I finish for him.

Troy lets go of my hips and smooths a hand down the front of his pants as if he’s wiping away the feel of my skin. “Yes, I did.” His voice is firm, unapologetic.

Troy has always been direct—something you’d expect from someone working in politics—but I wasn’t prepared for him to admit that he’d been standing there, watching us, for who knows how long.

“Do you normally do his bedtime? When you’re not out, you know, campaigning to become governor of an entire state?”

“Sometimes,” he shrugs, his voice quiet and ignoring the heat behind my question. “I like those sleepy moments with him the most. I like hearing what’s on his mind, even if it’s mostly gibberish.”

I soften slightly, my defenses lowering because I get what he means. “He’s getting better, though. His sentences are clearer, and he’s making more sense.”

Troy nods, his gaze slipping past me, as if he’s avoiding eye contact.

“I can try to keep him up later next time—if I know when you’re getting home. That way you can say goodnight to him.”

His eyes flick back to mine, narrowing slightly. “It’s fine, Georgia. I’d hate to throw off his routine.”

My mind flashes back to when I accused him of not caring enough about his grandson to tell me about his governor bid.

I wish I could take back the harshness of those words, but the truth is, even after considering every angle, I still believe he was wrong.

He should have told me, and he still hasn’t admitted it was wrong not to.

“Alright... I’m heading to bed, then,” I say, stepping away, out of his warm hold and towards my room, but before I can get far, his hand wraps around my forearm keeping me in place. The sudden contact sends sparks shooting up my arm as I’m turned to face him.

“Georgia, wait...” His voice softens, and for the first time, there’s something raw in his eyes.

“I’m sorry. For everything.” He exhales, running a hand over his jaw.

“You were right—I should have told you about the campaign. Trust doesn’t come easy in my world.

” He pauses, glancing at Liam’s door. “But I trusted you with him from day one. I knew he’d be safe with you.

” He swallows hard, his voice dipping lower. “And I knew I’d be safe with you too.”

I blink, completely caught off guard. “Thank you...”

He nods, his grip loosens slightly, but his eyes don’t leave mine. “I only texted you earlier today about being in the city because I saw a photo online. Looks like someone recognized Liam as my grandson and posted a photo asking who you are.”

My stomach twists. “Oh... what does that mean?”

Troy rubs his jaw, deep in thought. “It means I’ll need to hire security for you and Liam the next time you go to the city. Just let me know when that is, okay? I don’t mind you going, I just want to make sure you’re both safe.”

Safe .

Right, that makes sense.

In all my five years working for the Smiths, I never had to worry about security, or anyone caring to notice me at all.

I’d fade into the background during photo ops and stay out of the news.

But Troy’s life is different— public . He’s a single, young lawyer running for his first office position and the world is naturally going to be interested in who he is and what he’s up to.

The instinct to shield Liam from it all tightens in my chest. I wonder if Troy feels the same.

“Okay.” I nod, but my pulse is racing now, still aware of his hand lingering on my arm.

“Georgia, I…” Troy steps closer, his body pressing into mine as his hands slide up my arm, across my shoulders, stopping at the back of my neck, holding me there firmly in place, head tilted upwards to meet his piercing gaze.

I freeze, my breath catching because this, the way that he’s holding me is intimate. He’s so close—too close. Our breathing syncs, our air shared, and for a moment, it feels like we’re teetering on the edge of something dangerous.

Is he going to kiss me?

There’s a spark between us, strong and real, just like the night I kissed him this past weekend.

But now, in the quiet darkness outside Liam’s door, no alcohol fueling me forward, the weight of our new responsibilities press down on us—his duties as a father and politician, and mine as Liam’s caretaker.

By daylight, we return to our separate roles, but here in the shadows, something smolders between us, flickering to life just like it did last weekend. And I wonder whether he’ll give into it.

“I…” His voice trails off, and he just holds me there, waiting. One of his big hands cradle the back of my neck, the other is wrapped possessively around my hip. But I’m not making the first move this time. Not again. I don’t think my heart can take the rejection of another unreciprocated kiss.

Finally, he sighs and releases his grip on me. “Good night,” he says, his voice a little rough, his eyes searching mine for something.

I look away.

“Good night, Troy.” I step back, his touch softening, and head down the hallway to my room.

And I don’t dare look back.