Page 48 of Where the Blacktop Ends (Whitewood Creek Farm #1)

“Good morning Mr. Marshall,” Diane greets me with a cautious look in her eyes.?

After a weekend spent inside Georgia, knowing Max is back in North Carolina with the rest of my family and Liam is away at Eleanor’s, nothing could dampen my morning mood except for whatever is behind the look that she’s giving me right now.

“Is it a good morning, Diane?” I ask.

She taps her hand on top of a piece of paper that’s upside down on her desk, then slides it my way cautiously. I flip it over to find her neat handwriting and a warning scrawled on it.

“There’s a reporter waiting outside of your office. Total jackass. I tried getting rid of him, but he claims to have something you’re going to want to see and insisted on speaking with you personally.”

“Do we know who he’s with?” I ask, keeping my voice low.

I assume this guy wants a statement on something ridiculous, maybe one of my New York clients and some trouble they’ve gotten into recently and he’s threatening us with a story.

Or, worse, another comment on my nonexistent relationship with Minnie Meadows, the mayor’s daughter who I’ve set boundaries with and am considering taking a restraining order out against. But nothing prepares me for what Diane says next.

She slides another piece of paper across the desk, not bothering to make eye contact with me or the man standing outside my office doorway.

He’s got information on Georgia.

Bad info.

And just like that, my Monday takes a sharp nosedive.

I crumple the paper without looking at it and toss it into the wastebasket. My jaw tightens as I give Diane a curt nod, signaling that I’m ready to face this snake in the grass.

I turn the corner to my office, and there he is.

Younger than I expected, which makes me even more disgusted.

Bright blonde hair, a cheap brown suit that doesn’t fit right, and a casual arrogance as he scrolls social media videos of women half naked dancing like he’s not here to ruin my future wife’s life.

When he notices me standing in front of him, he jumps up and extends a hand.

“Heath Clever.”

“I don’t give a fuck what your name is.” Normally, I wouldn’t be this blunt or unprofessional, especially considering everything I have on the line, but today? I need to cut through the shit and get to the punchline.

His smile flickers with surprise before it shifts into a cocky smirk that makes me want to break his big nose.

“You might think I’m just some young, unexperienced reporter, but I assure you, I’m invested in this story. I’d love to see you lose the race in North Carolina. Your platform is antiquated, and your confidence is shrouded in arrogance.”

“You think you’re the only one who wants to see me lose?” I snap, crossing my arms.

He sneers, spreading his arms wide. “Shall we talk in your office?”

I want to throw him out on his ass, but I know I can’t. Not yet. So, I lead the way, my patience wearing thin. As soon as he settles into the chair, he pauses, his eyes gleaming.

“Your nanny’s cute.” He reaches for a mint from the bowl on my desk, and I yank it away before his grubby fingers can touch anything.

“Get to the point. You think you have something on one of my employees. It sounds like it’s my nanny.” My future wife. “What is it?”

He sits back, folding his hands on his stomach. “I trust you do background checks before hiring?”

“Of course.”

He smirks, enjoying this far too much. “Looks like your budding feelings for that nanny clouded your judgment.”

I don’t flinch, but I want to. It’s clear this bastard knows about Georgia and my relationship, and he thinks he’s got the upper hand. I stay stone-faced, refusing to give him the reaction he’s hunting for because I don’t intend having a slimy tabloid break our news.

“Georgia Cameron.” He lays a sheet of paper on my desk, face up, his eyes locked on mine.

“At sixteen, she wrote a letter to a Texas state senator, calling him out on his stance regarding a controversial issue tied to agriculture and the state’s crumbling infrastructure.

It wasn’t just bold—it was brutal. Sharp.

Scathing. She tore apart his voting record, dragged his family into it.

The senator never responded—probably had some interns toss it in the trash.

Most kids would’ve let it go. But not her.

Instead, she published that same letter in her high school newspaper, and it spread like wildfire.

Social media lit up with it— Myspace if you can remember that.

Though, let’s be real, you might be too old. ”

I take a slow breath, ignoring his jab and glance at the paper. It’s just a printout of some article he must’ve dug up online, detailing Georgia’s letter to the senator and the resulting outcome. It continues with a short mention of her being shamed by the politician on live television.

“She was a minor and it was a high school assignment. Why does this matter to me?” I say, folding my arms, keeping my expression neutral.

“Sure, but that’s not even the juicy part.

” He leans in, eyes gleaming with something between intrigue and triumph.

“The senator caught wind of it. Didn’t just brush it off—he threatened her family after holding his little press conference.

And her dad and uncle? They’re not just any ranchers; they own two of the wealthiest ranches in Texas.

Something went down, lines were crossed, and her dad actually pursued legal action against him.

But then? He suddenly dropped the lawsuit.

Whatever happened never made it to the public.

It was buried. But word around her school—and I’ve got a very credible source who went to school with her—is that the backlash was brutal.

Georgia didn’t just get harassed; it pushed her over the edge.

She tried to take her own life. Ended up in a psych ward for a while before she was discharged back into her parents’ care. ”

He slides another paper toward me—a so-called ” witness statement " from some idiot she went to high school with over ten years ago.

“So what?” I scoff, trying to mask the punch of hearing about Georgia’s attempt on her life. “You’re going to sell this to the tabloids? Why would anyone care about this story?”

“Got a paper in North Carolina interested. They’re willing to pay big for anything that can take down Troy Marshall’s run for governor.

Pretty sure they’d love to hear about your new girlfriend who happens to hate Texan politicians who are fighting for the little guy.

Politicians whose platforms are for farmers and ranchers in Texas.

Isn’t that what your platform is running on?

Don’t you think it’s a clear contradiction that you’d date someone who hates the people you support? ”

I scoff, unable to hide my contempt. Georgia is nothing like what this asshole is making her out to be.

She cares about ranchers and farmers. Her father is one.

But beyond that, that isn’t all my platform stands for.

I’m running for more than just the farmers and small towns.

I’m running for every single resident in the state who dreams of a better world.

Better access to affordable health care, job opportunities for all, and safer housing.

I want a state that works for everyone and I’m certain that senator did something shady to provoke Georgia’s letter, even shadier to get her family to back off and he just couldn’t handle the heat.

If anything, he should be poking into this state senator’s background.

Leaning forward, I keep my voice steady. “You’re focused on the wrong person. There are enough skeletons in my closet from when I was sixteen to keep you busy for years.”

“Yeah, but no one knows you’re sleeping with this nanny, do they now?”

I rub my jaw, weighing my next move carefully.

I’d already planned to go public about Georgia—whether she agreed to the engagement or not.

I’m not ashamed of being with her, not ashamed of sleeping with her or dating her.

But I wanted it to be onourterms, on her timeline.

Not some sleazy tabloid’s desperate cash grab, twisting her past into a headline meant to shame her for choices she made as a teenager.

More than anything, I need to talk to Georgia.

The last thing I want is to drag a painful chapter of her life back into the spotlight.

My priority isn’t saving my own reputation—it’s protecting her .

And if that means making this story disappear before it even gains traction, then I’ll do whatever it takes to shut this asshole down.

“When are you selling the story?”

He grins smugly as if he’s already won. “My boss wants a fresh story by Friday. You give me sixty grand and I’ll make it disappear.”

I stand, motioning him toward the door, resisting the urge to throw him out right now on his ass. Sixty grand is ludicrous even if I’d pay double that to protect her. But this isn’t just about me anymore and I need some time to think about the right approach to handle this.

“Leave your info with my assistant Diane on your way out. I’ll be in touch by Wednesday.” Once the door closes, I sit down and pull out my phone to fire off a text to Georgia.

Troy : We need to talk. I’m leaving the office early.

Georgia : Okay. Is everything alright? Liam and I are at lunch, but we’ll head back at the house in an hour.

Troy : No, but I assure you it will be. See you at the house.