Page 30 of Where the Blacktop Ends (Whitewood Creek Farm #1)

It should be a beautiful night for a swim.

But the ocean behind Troy’s house is dark and frigid, and I hadn’t exactly planned on diving into it tonight.

But when he showed up earlier than usual—catching Liam and me off guard—I knew he needed a distraction.

A release. Something to break through that carefully controlled exterior of his.

I’ve never seen him emotional. Not like that.

Most days, he’s a statue—cold, solid, carved out of muscle.

His skin, rich and impossibly attractive, rarely gives anything away.

No softness, no vulnerability. Just frustration.

Annoyance. A wall so thick I sometimes wonder if anything could break through.

Until tonight. Until that word—Papa—hit him like a wrecking ball.

I know there’s a heart beating somewhere inside that strong exterior, one that thrums for his family.

But tonight, I caught a rare glimpse of how much deeper that love might run.

And maybe it’s foolish, but I want to see more of it.

To pull it out of him, to understand the man beneath the stone.

After all, I’m living with him, even if it is only for two more months until he wins the governor’s seat and moves to North Carolina leaving me behind.

And now, here we are.

My bare feet sink into the wooden deck steps, then the soft sand that stretches beyond them. I can sense Troy behind me, a few paces back, like he’s hesitant to get too close. I don’t stop or look back. He’s like a wild animal that I’m afraid to startle with my emotions and feelings.

I keep walking until the sand becomes firmer, damp from the ocean’s reach.

At the water’s edge, I strip off my shorts and shirt, tossing the towel to the sand.

I know he’s watching, standing there, waiting.

I chose my tiniest bikini tonight—a cute one with purple flowers, tied at the neck and hips in delicate little straps.

It hugs my curves in all the right ways, showing off more than I usually would.

I don’t look back at him. Instead, I run forward and dive straight into the surf.

The water slams into me like a cold plunge, stealing my breath, but I’ve swum in worse. Texas summers made sure of that—ponds, lakes, and more than a few mid-winter dunking’s courtesy of my cousins at Ashwood Ranch. This? This is nothing.

I go under completely, letting the shock settle in all at once, then break the surface with a sharp inhale. And he’s there. Cutting through the water toward me as I push farther out, treading now, the chill fading beneath the steady burn of movement.

Troy stays just beneath the surface, his chest submerged, hair still meticulously dry—as if even the ocean can’t touch his control. But the moonlight turns the water into silver, highlighting the sharp lines of his muscles, the tension in his jaw. He looks… untouchable. Almost godlike.

His gaze is locked on mine, intense but not critical, more…

curious, maybe? Like he’s trying to solve a puzzle.

And, frankly, I don’t blame him. Between the two of us, we don’t make a lot of sense.

The only sound is the gentle lapping of waves around us.

For late October, you’d have to be half-mad to be in the ocean, so the beach is deserted.

The houses dotting the shore are mostly abandoned for the winter, their owners back in other states for work.

It’s just the two of us, as if the ocean has washed away everything else—my inhibitions, his defenses, and our pride. Here, in this space, he’s not the man in a suit or the public figure everyone expects him to be.

And I’m not some wild, unpredictable nanny he hired to care for his grandson. We’re just... us.

“Will you tell me why you’re running for governor of North Carolina?” I ask, breaking the silence.

He’s quiet, still treading water in front of me. The moonlight reflects in his hazel eyes, his lips press together as he weighs his words carefully. I swim a little closer, slow, and gentle, hoping that he’ll see I’m not a threat to his safety.

“You can trust me, Troy... I feel like I’ve proven that over the past week, hell past few months since the moment we first met.”

“I know I can. And I apologize again for not telling you sooner that I’ll likely be moving. I know I can trust you, I’m just not… used to having people in my personal world that I can open up to.”

“I like to think that I’m not part of your world. I’m sort of on the fringe. You don’t live with most people in your ′ world ,′ do you?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “The reason why I haven’t shared why I’m running for governor is because it’s more complicated than simply wanting this for my career advancement. Hell, it’s more complicated than wanting this for my family and their businesses.”

“Okay…”

“My family owns a large egg farm in North Carolina. It’s the biggest in the state, and one of two that have a no-kill policy.

We raise the chickens solely for their eggs.

Pasture raised, free range, organic grain, the full nines.

It’s been in my family for three generations.

We also own a distillery and are building a brewery storefront for our whiskey and beer,” he lets out a breath and looks up at the moon.

Water droplets fall to the surface from his beard and when his gaze returns to meet mine, it’s heavier.

"Wait—you’re in the egg business? That’s not exactly the cutthroat industry I imagined leading you into politics.” That’s a lot of businesses. I wonder how many siblings he has.

He chuckles. “Yes, the chickens keep us all soft.”

I smile because something about imagining Troy hanging out with chickens makes me happy. I not to encourage him to continue. “Tell me more about the brewery that you’re building.”

“It’s been ten years since we started working on it.

Things went smoothly for a while, but then Beckham was born—my nephew, nine years ago.

That’s when everything started going sideways with the mayor of our small town.

” Troy’s voice tightens as he flips onto his back and stares up at the dark sky.

I can’t help but admire the way the moonlight dances across his chest, the sharp muscles in his bare abdomen, and the powerful arms that hold him effortlessly in the water as he floats.

“The mayor of Whitewood Creek’s daughter is my brother, Lawson’s ex, and Beckham’s mom.

They had him when Lawson and she were twenty-two.

They cared about each other, but neither wanted more than a co-parenting relationship.

They said that they’d always felt like they were business partners more than lovers and their business was raising their son.

They’ve done well, alternating weeks without any drama.

But the mayor? He’s never forgiven Lawson for getting his daughter pregnant and not marrying her—even though she remarried two years ago.

He’s been punishing our family ever since for ′ publicly embarrassing him. ′ ”

“I see...” I mutter, feeling the weight of the story settling in.

“Oh, it gets better,” Troy says with a wry laugh, still gazing at the sky and I’m nervous for what more could happen.

“Four years ago, my youngest brother, Colt, was out for some drinks with his best friend. He’d had one drink that was out of his system, not enough to register on a breathalyzer or impair his driving, when he saw a guy kicking the hell out of a young woman on the side of the road.

Colt jumped in to help, but the guy swung at him and well.

.. Colt doesn’t back down from a fight. He beat the guy so badly—broke his jaw in four places, gave him a concussion, and permanently messed up his vision in his right eye. It still isn’t the same.”

“Damn…” I say, wincing at the image of Troy’s brother and the poor woman he was defending.

Troy’s face is hard as he continues, “Colt’s always been that way—he settles things with his fists.

Even though he was defending the woman the man could have killed, and the guy threw the first punch, it was Colt’s word against theirs.

The girl clammed up fast when the sheriff threatened her.

She wasn’t from our town and had some sort of record. ”

“Why would the sheriff threaten her?” I ask, incredulous.

“The guy that Colt beat up? Well, he’s the sheriff’s son.”

“Fuck…” What a twisted web of corruption.

“Yeah, small-town politics. You piss off the wrong people, and it doesn’t matter if you’re a local hero, beloved family farm that pays taxes into their economy—you get blackballed. There’s only so much you can do.”

“So that’s why you got into politics,” I say, starting to piece together the puzzle of Troy.

“Kind of,” he admits. “I started with law school before all this shit happened, thinking I could make good money as a single dad raising Max on my own. But then, when my family started getting screwed over, it snowballed from there. I’m running for governor to fix this and more for the state that I love.

I want to get the permits we need for the brewery and get Colt out of prison.

Overthrow the government in the state and take back the focus on what makes it thrive but bring it into the future, too.

I care about doing the right thing. It’s about my family but it’s about more than that. ”

“Troy…” I swim closer, my fingers skimming his bicep, feeling the tension coiled beneath his skin.

The weight of it all presses on him, heavier than the water around us.

He needs someone to share it with. I wonder if I’m the first—the first he’s let in, the first to see this side of him, to hear the truth about his family and what drives him. “That’s a lot to carry alone.”

He shifts upright, facing me fully now, the water keeping us suspended, close.

So close that I can feel the warmth of his breath against my chilled skin.

There’s something unguarded in his eyes, a quiet fear that I’ll take his words and turn them against him.

I never would. But how do I make him believe that?

How do I earn the trust he’s never given freely?

He’s always seemed older than his years—steady, composed. Now I understand why.

“It is. But we all carry it. My sister Regan stepped in to run the egg farm while Colt’s been away.

Lawson’s got sales and marketing down to a science and handling all of the travel.

Cash is building the brewery and managing the distillery, and my dad’s holding everything together as best he can without my mom here.

This is how I contribute. With influence and power. ”

I nod.

He lets out another heavy sigh. “I’ve been working on Colt’s appeal for years. Got an email from his lawyer on the train ride home tonight—his appeal’s likely going to be denied.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means Colt will have to serve his full five-year sentence. He’s been in for four already. I wanted him home for the holidays. I wanted him out before now. The whole thing is screwed up. It’s been four years too long, and I feel like I’ve let him down every step along the way.”

“I’m so sorry…” I drift closer, the space between us dissolving until our legs brush beneath the water. His hands graze my arms—an accidental touch, barely there—but even underwater, it sends a ripple of warmth through me, goosebumps rising in its wake, trailing all the way up my neck.

“Thank you,” he says softly, his fingers curl around my bicep as if to ground himself.

I can’t tell if it’s an accident or intentional, but I don’t want them to leave.

“I don’t say it enough but having you here with Liam—it’s taken a huge weight off my shoulders.

I feel like I’m not doing enough for him.

Eleanor was slowing down and couldn’t keep up.

.. just knowing that he’s got you makes me feel a lot better about leaving for work every day. ”

“Of course. I love it. I love him. He’s such a special boy. I know you have a million different things on your plate, but you don’t have to worry about this one. I’ve got this. I’ve got him .”

Troy exhales slowly, his head tipping back, eyes sliding shut like he’s fighting a war within himself.

Moonlight spills over the sharp planes of his face, his dark lashes casting shadows against his cheeks.

He looks like something carved from stone—beautiful, unyielding, and yet, right now, on the verge of breaking.

When he opens his eyes again, they burn with something raw, something reckless.

His fingers tighten around my wrist, sliding lower, wrapping around my forearm as if grounding himself.

And then, just as quickly, he lets go—only to grip my waist, much tighter than a causal hold and then yank me against him.

The suddenness steals the breath from my lungs, but it’s nothing compared to the way my body reacts. Instinct takes over. My legs wrap around his waist, pressing me flush against him, the heat of his skin searing through the cold water. I should push back, but I don’t want to. Not anymore.

His hands skate up my back, then into my hair, his fingers cradling the base of my skull. He tilts my head up, forcing my gaze to his. The hesitation that’s always been there, the restraint that’s kept him tethered—gone.

And then he’s kissing me.

A deep, consuming kiss that leaves no room for doubt, no space between us. His lips move against mine with a desperation that sends a shiver through me, his breath mixing with mine, his grip tightening like he’s afraid I’ll slip away. But I won’t. I’m here. And for the first time, so is he.