Page 33 of Where the Blacktop Ends (Whitewood Creek Farm #1)

I’d rather be anywhere but in New York City right now.

Lunch with Minnie was as excruciating as I expected. I’d been dodging it for weeks, and when I finally sat through it, I had to—once again—make it clear that our relationship was strictly professional. That there was nothing more between us, nor would there ever be.

The only reason I agreed to be seen with her was to keep her father’s political connections on my side—and to support her animal rescue cause.

A noble enough mission, saving pets left behind by careless renters, but it didn’t make sitting through that lunch any easier.

By the time we’ve finished eating, mostly with her attempting to hold back tears that never fall, the whole ordeal has left me feeling drained and annoyed.

By the time I slog through an endless cab ride in Friday traffic, my mood is shot, my workload is piling up, and my patience is non-existent. My plan to make it home in time for Liam’s bedtime routine is quickly slipping away due to how long our lunch ran and frankly, I miss him.

And Georgia...

Because I hardly slept last night in the room down the hallway from hers and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her.

I open my phone for the first time since lunch to check emails and my afternoon meetings.

Phone calls, text messages—the endless stream of work used to not feel this overwhelming.

I desperately need to hire more help, but I know I can’t make any moves until I secure the governor position.

And that won’t be determined for another month.

I skim through messages, deleting most without reading, until one from Regan in the family group chat catches my eye. The thread’s been running for nearly a decade, mostly to coordinate farm business and distillery updates. Lately, it’s been quiet.

I open the latest message to see what she’s sent today.

Regan : I know you said you hired a new nanny for Liam, but you described her as if she was Eleanor’s age, not, THAT.

Cash : Yeah, what the fuck man? Did you just pick the hottest woman you could find in New York to hire?

What the hell are they talking about?

Lawson : Guys, leave Troy alone, he’s so clueless about women he probably doesn’t even realize he hired her. Did Diane hire her for you?

Cash : ?? ?? ??

Regan : She’s so pretty! Bring her home sometime so we can meet her. Oh, and bring my great nephew with you. Aunt Regan misses Liam.

Lawson : So do Beckham and me!

Regan : But seriously... is she okay, Troy? That looked like a close call.

What? I type up a quick text message, trying to figure out how any of them know who Georgia is or what they’re talking about.

Troy : Yes. Georgia’s fine. Why wouldn’t she be? And why are you three stalking her?

Cash : Oh, he hasn’t heard yet.

Lawson : Where are you?

Dad : Boy, if you don’t go check on my great-grandson and make sure that pretty nanny is okay, I’ll be on the first flight to New York City to embarrass the hell out of you in front of your politician friends.

Cash : Whose asses are we kicking?

Regan : Want me to come up and help for a bit, Troy?

Troy : What the hell are you all talking about?!

My jaw tightens as I wait for an answer, but instead of a text, Regan sends a link.

I stare at the headline, heart hammering.

"North Carolina Governor Candidate Troy Marshall’s Nanny Seen Saving Mysterious Child—Is This the Love Child of Minnie Meadows and Troy Marshall?"

What. The. Hell.

I open the article in horror as I scroll through the photos of Georgia and Liam in a store that I don’t recognize labeled somewhere in the Hamptons.

Picture after picture shows Georgia clutching his hand tightly, her expression worried but calm as she pulls him through the doors, while he’s weeping, snot running down his face, tucked safely behind her.

Then I reach the shots where they’re on the sidewalk, and a large SUV nearly bowls them over.

Georgia is sprawled on top of Liam’s body, shielding him completely with her own in some sort of starfish shape.

All you can see are his tiny shoes peeking out from beneath her thighs.

Her body is only millimeters away from the bumper of the car and being crushed.

My stomach churns as I stare at the photo.

She protected him.

She sacrificed herself for his safety without a single care.

I flip to the next photo—Georgia hoisting Liam onto her back, sprinting down the sidewalk, but not before she gives the crowd a middle finger.

I want to laugh, but right now, all I see is red.

I want to roar. To rage. To cause a scene so explosive the media of this god-forsaken city understands to never touch my family or anyone else I love again.

My family.

Because Georgia is part of that now. I could say it happened last night while I was tasting her, something I’ve been wanting to do for months, but it happened even before then and now that I’ve had her, I intend on making it known to her and everyone else, that I won’t be letting her go.

That she isn’t simply an employee who they can harass with their photographs and questions.

That she and Liam are an extension of me.

And they’ve messed with the wrong family.

I promised her she’d be safe in the Hamptons without security, and now they’ve found her.

I glance at the headline again: “North Carolina Governor Candidate Troy Marshall’s Nanny Seen Saving Mysterious Child—Is This the Love Child of Minnie Meadows and Troy Marshall?”

Fucking ridiculous title.

Without a second thought, I spin on my heel, storming toward the train station instead of back to the office. My mind is set—I’m heading back to the Hamptons and taking care of them.

“Diane?” I bark into the phone as soon as she answers.

“Troy, I was wondering when you’d see the article. I’ve been trying to reach you all morning.”

“Cancel my meetings for this afternoon and evening.”

“Already done.”

“Field any phone calls, emails, or texts until Monday. I won’t be checking in this weekend.”

“Taken care of.”

“Thank you,” I sigh exasperatedly as she’s silent. My frustration is barely concealed but my shoulders have loosened knowing I’m about to make this right. I wasn’t there to protect her initially, but I’ll be there now.

“Go take care of your grandson and Georgia. I’ll hold down the fort.”

The two-and-a-half-hour train ride feels endless. Every stop, every turn only makes my frustration and rage burn hotter.

I know it’s irrational—I can’t be everywhere at once—but my family has always been my top priority.

Always. Whether it’s my family in North Carolina, my family here, or Max, wherever he is.

This is why I do what I do. But why am I spending so much time in the city, away from the people I’m supposed to protect?

Away from Georgia and Liam when they needed me most.

My hand twitches with the old urge to hit something—an instinct from my rougher days growing up.

She looked so scared in those photos. Terrified.

I want to call her, hear her voice, make sure she’s okay, but that won’t be enough.

I need to see her. To look her in the eyes and know for certain that she’s safe.

By the time I pull up to the house, it’s nearly four in the afternoon. I step inside, expecting to find them there, but the place is quiet.

Instinct pulls my gaze toward the beach.

There they are—Georgia and Liam, kneeling in the sand, building what looks like an elaborate castle.

I linger in the doorway, watching. The sunlight catches in her strawberry-blonde hair, igniting it in a halo of gold and copper, while Liam darts around her, carefree and laughing, his earlier fear from the photographs nowhere in sight.

But when Georgia shifts, rising from her crouch and brushing sand from her legs, I catch the briefest wince.

That small flicker of pain tightens something in my chest. I pull out my phone but don’t dial.

I just stand there, still hidden in the house, watching her—unable to look away.

She’s always been beautiful. I’ve known it from the moment I met her.

But I see her differently now, in a way my own pride and stubbornness had blinded me to before.

That changes today. Because I refuse to miss it again.

“Hi Troy, what can I help you with?” Eleanor answers on the first ring.

“Any chance you can pick Liam up a little early for the weekend?”

“Thought you might ask that and already planned to. I saw the news.”

I draw in a breath as we both sit on the line in the silence.

“She’ll be alright. She’s resilient. Her instincts protected them both. I bet Liam’s already forgotten all about it.”

“Yes, but this is our life now. I should have been there to protect them.”

“You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. You can’t always be everywhere. Liam will not remember this, but Georgia might. It’s not the life she signed up for working for you. Tell her you’re sorry and you’re there for her. And hire her some damn security for when they go out next time.”

“I know. I will.”

“See you in ten minutes.”

She hangs up, but I linger on the deck for a while longer, watching them play before heading inside to pack Liam’s overnight bag. Just as I finish, I hear Eleanor’s car pull up. I step out onto the deck as she calls out for Liam.

“Elle!” he squeals, sprinting from the sand and tumbling a few times before bouncing back to his feet. Georgia follows closely behind him, her pretty eyes locked onto mine, the question of what’s going on hanging between us.

"I asked her to pick up Liam a little early for the weekend. I hope that's okay?" I say, glancing at Georgia.

She nods as Eleanor lifts Liam into her arms.

"Hi, Papa!" he chirps when he spots me.

"Hey, buddy… I’ll see you Sunday, alright?"

"Okay!" He grins, completely unbothered, as if today hadn’t been absolute chaos.

I catch Eleanor’s eye and mouth a silent thank you before she heads for the door, leaving just Georgia and me in the quiet house.

She exhales, shifting her weight. “I think I’m gonna go shower…” Her voice trails off, but before she can take a step, my hand moves on instinct. I catch her wrist, pulling her into my chest.

It’s reflexive. Automatic.

A need to hold her. A need to protect her.

A need I already know I’ll never shake.

“I’m so sorry.”

“I’m fine,” she mumbles tensely, still stiff in my arms.

“No, you’re not.” I pull back, taking in her body and noticing the scrapes on her bare knees and the redness on the palm of her hands.

She smells like the sweet scent of the salty ocean air, but her body is sore and behind her eyes is fear.

“Those bastards… I don’t even know how they found out about you. ”

She winces and then rolls her eyes. “Oh, like I’m your dirty secret that you’ve been keeping?”

My brows drop. “What?”

“I mean, they were bound to find out I existed eventually. People in this community, though private, know you live here and see me occasionally around town with Liam.”

“I’m not upset that they know about you, Georgia. I’m upset that it put your safety and Liam’s at risk.”

Her gaze drops to the ground as she shakes her head. “It was horrible.”

“I know. And it won’t happen again.” Because I’ll be here.

“I thought the car was going to crush us. He tripped and was right there on the sidewalk—so helpless.” She blows out a slow breath of air. “It’s the most scared I’ve ever been in my life.”

“I know, and you protected him. I can never thank you enough for that.”

She nods again, and all I want is to ease her fears and show her how grateful I am for what she did. I want to assure her that no one—will ever have the chance to hurt her ever again.

“Come with me. Let me help you get cleaned up,” I urge. Her eyes meet mine, filled with questions and hesitation. “Georgia, please let me do what I do best. Let me take care of you.”