Page 44 of Where the Blacktop Ends (Whitewood Creek Farm #1)

I prop my white cowgirl boots up on the edge of Cash’s desk in the Whitewood Creek distillery, lazily swirling the amber liquid in my glass while my eyes stay locked on the TV in the corner.

Cash smirks as he slides another shot my way, the rich scent of oak and spice curling through the air. “Try this one—it’s our new Halloween release.”

I take a slow sip, letting the burn settle in my throat before smacking my lips. “This one’s strong.”

Cash barks out a laugh. “Girl, you say that, but you downed it like a pro. Troy is so screwed.”

“He really is,” Regan chimes in, entering the office just in time to catch me pouring a second glass of the seasonal mix. I toss it back for dramatic effect causing both Cash and Regan to burst into laughter.

“How in the hell did you end up with someone like him?” Cash teases, pointing at the worn TV in his office. “All suits, ties, and that perfect hair. Man’s polished enough to be in a damn whiskey ad.”

I glance up, and there he is—Troy, looking like he walked straight out of a GQ spread.

Dark hair slicked just right, all thanks to the emergency haircut his advisor insisted on before the press conference in Charlotte.

I wasn’t thrilled when he left our bed at Whitewood Creek for that.

His body was still warm when he slipped away, murmuring a promise to make it up to me.

But apparently, playing to the hearts of farmers like him meant not looking like one.

And I hated that.

I told him so—told him the biggest advisor in New York shouldn’t be the one making decisions for a man who already knew what mattered.

His response? Pinning me to the bed and making me repeat it back to him while he fucked me senseless, leaving me breathless and aching while he walked away looking like a damn model in one of his favorite suits.

“He’s so much more than the suit, the good hair, and the manicured nails,” I joke, but there’s a softness in my voice I can’t hide.

Cash and Regan exchange knowing looks, but I don’t care to hide my feelings for him. My eyes are glued to the screen, to the man who’s stealing my heart faster than I can handle.

Maybe it’s the hormones—my period hit with a vengeance right after he left this morning—or maybe it’s something deeper. Something I’m too scared to name.

Because I’m falling for him.

Hard. Fast. Too fast.

And that’s a dangerous thing when you’ve only known someone for a month. I try to convince myself it’s nothing more than the way he touches me, the way he makes me feel—like I’m the only thing that matters in a world full of chaos. But I know better.

It’s more.

I can’t imagine waking up without him beside me. And that’s what terrifies me. Because if he wins this race… I’m not sure if I’ll still be a part of the world that he’s fighting so hard to build. And I’m scared of what that means for my heart.

Cash’s teasing fades, replaced by something softer, more serious.

“He’s a good man, Georgia. Always has been.

” His gaze drifts to the TV, where Troy’s image has long since faded.

“Does more for this family than we even know. Pulls strings, keeps shit together, and never asks for a damn thing in return.”

I swallow hard, my throat tightening because I know.

I’ve seen the strain in Troy’s eyes. The exhaustion he tries to hide.

He’s been working nonstop—juggling permits for the brewery and storefront between fighting for Colt’s appeal.

If the city doesn’t comply, years of their investment go down the drain.

And if the appeal is denied… Colt’s locked up for another year. Everything’s on his shoulders.

“He deserves someone just as supportive,” Regan adds, gently placing a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t think he doesn’t feel that way. He wants you. You’re so good for him.”

I swallow hard, emotions filling my throat, but before I can respond to that, the door to the office creaks open and Lawson strolls in, Liam in his arms, and his ten-year-old son, Beckham, trailing behind.

“Took him to see the chicks,” Lawson says with a grin. “He said chickens awe! so I think you’ve got yourself a little chicken helper soon, Regan.”

Lawson sets Liam down, and the sleepy little boy curls into my lap, holding my face with his tiny hands.

“Oh, buddy, you’re tired, huh?” I ask him.

He shakes his head no, but yawns so big it betrays him.

“Just like his grandpa. Stubborn as hell,” Cash says with a grin.

“I’ll take him home,” I murmur, petting his hair but Regan’s already on her feet, scooping him up as he clings to her like a little koala.

“I’ll tuck him in at Troy’s,” she insists. “You can come back when you’re done here. I miss snuggling him to sleep.”

“Are you sure?” I hesitate, feeling strange since technically I’m still the nanny and being paid for the time I spend here with Liam though I’d hardly consider any of it work.

“Yes, please,” she waves me off. “Let me have my snuggles.” And with that, she’s out the door, leaving me feeling lighter and a little more at home with each passing moment.

Once Lawson and Beckham leave, it’s just Cash and I left in the distillery office. The TV flickers off, Troy’s press conference over, and already I feel the ache of missing his face.

“You said that out loud,” Cash snickers.

“What?” I blink, feeling my cheeks flush.

“I’m just messing with you. But it’s written all over your face—you miss my brother. Hell, we all do. We love him, and we want him to win this governor position, to right all these wrongs and get Colt free. But more than anything, we just want him home. All of us, back together at Whitewood Creek.”

I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat because I don’t know if that includes me in Troy’s plan.

“I think I’ll head back to his house, tidy up a bit before he gets home from the city.”

“When do you two head back to New York?”

“Troy goes to see Colt tomorrow, so probably right after that.”

Cash smiles softly. “Don’t stay away for too long, Georgia. You’re family now—you fit right in with us crazies.”

I return his smile. “I’ll make sure we’re home for the holidays with Liam.” Unless he’s already living here without me…

The drive back to Troy’s house on the spare golfcart is short, the road weaving through open pastures from the distillery to his place. I take the time to try to clear my head and soak in the mountain air. It really is beautiful here. By the time I pull up to his house I know he’ll be home soon.

Stepping inside, I quietly peek into Liam’s room. Regan sits beside his bed, gently stroking his hair as he sleeps, her expression soft and full of admiration.

“I miss him so much,” she whispers, her eyes glistening.

“Watching Max grow up was fun, but we were so close in age, it was like having another brother who was just six years younger than me and constantly annoying me. With Liam… I feel like I’ve hardly been able to see him.

He’s so much like Max and Troy. It’s amazing. ”

I nod, leaning against the door frame. “I see the similarities in Troy. I haven’t met Max yet.”

“You will,” she smiles. “He’ll love you, too. It might not make sense to most people why Troy was happy to move Liam in with him, but he loves his son so much, supports him no matter what. And Max loves Liam too—he’s just figuring things out in his own time.”

We say our goodnights, and then she’s gone, leaving me alone with my quiet thoughts once again.

By the time I hear the front door open, it’s nearly eight.

Troy’s heavy footsteps echo down the hall while he moves towards me.

I’ve changed into a pair of dark navy pajama shorts and a matching button-up pajama top.

Not exactly sexy, but it’s all I can manage on the first day of my cycle.

The cramps aren’t too bad, but I’m not feeling overly attractive.

He finds me instantly, like he’s been searching for me all day. His eyes lock on mine, and everything else fades. My heart stumbles, that familiar flutter stealing my breath, but this time… it’s different.

Deeper. Stronger. Dangerous.

I’m falling too fast. Too hard. And I know it. I don’t care. I’m his. For however long this lasts.

When he enters the bedroom, he closes and locks the door with quiet precision, like he’s afraid Liam might wander in and interrupt... whatever he thinks we’re about to do. His tie is already halfway undone before he even says hello.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you all damn day.” His tie drops to the floor.

His fingers move to the buttons of his shirt, slowly revealing the tanned, tattooed skin beneath.

A contrast against the buttoned-up exterior that he projects to the rest of the country when he’s being interviewed.

One by one, he undoes the buttons, the sprinkle of hair that’s starting to get some grey in it comes into view.

Shirt .

He hooks his fingers into his belt, unbuckling and letting it drop to the ground.

Belt.

His suit pants follow as he strips them away, leaving nothing but the man I’ve been aching for all day.

Pants.

He’s rigid, already ready for me as he strokes himself firmly in his grip.

“Need to feel that hot cunt squeezing me so tightly I come back to myself,” he wipes his face with a hand as if he’s ripping off the mask that he’s been wearing all day while participating in press conferences. My heart squeezes tightly in my chest and I hate that this is his life.

I back away slowly, my butt hitting the edge of the bed until I take a seat on the top of the comforter.

“Wait.” I press my hands against his chest, halting his advance. He freezes instantly, every muscle tensed, his breath ragged. Despite everything, heat still coils low in my belly, my body screaming for him, for the hardness straining against his boxers.

“What’s wrong?”

“My period just started.”

His brows drop before a grin spreads across his handsome face.

“You think I care about a little blood? I’m a man .”

“But you’re all… proper, and polished.”?