Page 51 of Where the Blacktop Ends (Whitewood Creek Farm #1)

“Are you nervous?” Regan asks, squeezing my hand. My other hand grips Aunt Maggie’s as we stand in the expansive dining room of Whitewood Creek Brewery & Restaurant—the Marshall family’s newest Charlotte location. Our eyes stay fixed on the towering monitors streaming the election results.

The brewery has transformed since I last saw it. Despite the mayor’s best efforts to block Troy’s family from securing permits, Cash bulldozed ahead with construction, and now the place is breathtaking—nearly complete.

Reclaimed wooden ceilings stretch high above us, modern accents weaving seamlessly with rustic charm.

The space holds nearly a hundred guests between indoor and outdoor seating, while the event area in the back can accommodate two hundred more, overlooking a hand-built pond with a dock.

It’s like a piece of Whitewood Creek farmstead dropped into the heart of the city, ready to welcome the eclectic brewery crowd when the grand opening happens this spring.

"A little," I admit. "But I’m confident he’s going to win this."

Regan squeezes my hand again. "He’s got this."

What I don’t say is that I’m still waiting—waiting for the other shoe to drop. Whoever threatened to use my past against Troy has been silent, but silence doesn’t mean safe. It could mean waiting. Watching. Choosing the perfect moment to strike.

With most votes already counted, Troy is crushing three of his five opponents. But the fourth? He’s close—uncomfortably close.

Liam’s back at the farmstead with Eleanor, but the rest of Troy’s family is here—Clay, Maggie, their kids Penny and Oliver, plus my parents.

They laugh, mingle, and drink like they’ve known each other forever.

Over my shoulder, I catch a glimpse of Uncle Clay, my dad, and Troy’s brothers, Lawson and Cash, clinking pints of Whitewood Creek beer, their laughter rolling through the space.

Troy’s been tied up with interviews since I landed, handling business while the votes roll in.

I haven’t seen him since New York, but I feel him now—close.

And then—Troy’s arms wrap around my waist, pulling me flush against his chest.

“Mind if I steal you for a moment?” His deep voice rumbles against my neck, sending shivers down my spine. He keeps his hands on my hips as he guides me away from the crowd and toward the kitchen of the restaurant.

“The results,” I breathe. “They’re about to be announced.”

He shrugs. “Georgia, I never cared about winning for the glory—just for what it means for my family. But lately? The only thing I care about winning... is you.”

A shiver racks through me as he lifts me onto the cool metal counter, slotting himself between my legs.

His hands trail up my thighs, slipping beneath my royal-blue dress—the one I chose carefully, hoping it would show the media I’m no longer the naive sixteen-year-old who blasted a state senator all over social media, thinking she could change the world.

I’m a grown woman now, one with strong opinions, a right to stand beside my man with no regrets.

“I need to be inside you,” he murmurs, his fingers teasing over the thin fabric of my underwear.

“Our families are right outside…” I protest, but it’s weak, dissolving the moment his touch lingers. My body betrays me, trembling, wanting.

“I don’t care.” His voice is raw, edged with hunger. “We’re adults. I’m about to win this election, right so many wrongs. I’m overflowing with adrenaline. I need you.”

I part my legs wider, offering everything, and his wicked grin spreads as his fingers slip beneath the fabric, finding me already wet.

“But what about…” My breath catches as his fingers move, slick and teasing. He unzips his suit pants, freeing himself, and grips my hips, pulling me toward him until the tip of his cock presses against my entrance.

“Win or lose today, you’re mine, Georgia. And I’m yours. Do you understand that now?”

I bite my lip and nod, my hands finding his waist. “I’d never forgive myself if I’m the reason you lose this.”

His eyes darken, his voice a low growl. “You would never be the reason that I’d lose. You’re the reason I fight.” And with those words, he thrusts inside of me, forcing my body backwards on the counter as he catches my hips. “Easy girl...”

He pushes out, dragging the tip of his cock across my opening, covering it in my arousal and up to my clit with a tap before thrusting back inside again, this time to the core of me.

“What you did, was innocent. You found a cause that you believed in, and you took action.”

Pulls out completely, drags across my opening, up to my clit and then thrusts back inside again.

“You have nothing to hide. Nothing to be ashamed of. If anything, you should be proud of what you brought attention to. Of the way you spoke up unabashedly and called out his corruption.”

One hand drops to my clit, petting there firmly as his other runs behind my hips to my ass and grips it, pressing it into his front where he holds me tightly.

“Still, if they twist it in a way that impacts your election...” I trail off.

His hands move to my throat, squeezing it just enough to keep my focus but not enough to cause marks. His hazel eyes are warm, his face serious as he pushes his hips forward again.

“You think I haven’t done enough damage to my reputation on my own?

I was a single dad at twenty, got my college girlfriend pregnant after already seeing how hard my parents struggled with their own unplanned pregnancy, then she left me.

And now I’m raising my grandson because my son repeated the same choices that I made.

My brother’s in prison, I’ve done some shady shitty myself and though I’ve only backed candidates I believe in, they’ve had a few scandals I’ve helped them get out of.

Reporters could’ve linked me to any of these things and tried to tank my career. But they haven’t. Do you know why?”

“Why?” I ask, breathless, as his hands grip my ass, lifting me from the table. I’m hovering over him now, arms wrapped around his neck, while he holds me suspended in the air.

“Because they saw something I love. They saw that I care more about you than my reputation or myself. They thought they could make empty threats, hoping I’d stoop to their level to protect you.

And the crazy part? I almost did. Because there’s nothing that I wouldn’t do for you.

But instead, I did what I do best—I buried the story before it could even surface. For your sake. Not mine.”

“You… you what?”

“And if it ever resurfaces, I’ll stand by it—and by you.

Hell, I wish it would, so I could ruin that senator’s career the way he deserves.

I looked him up—he’s still in power in Texas.

Still completely corrupted. Maybe I’ll visit your family’s ranch for the holidays and pay him a little visit.

” His grin is wicked as he pinches my clit, making me moan, his hand clamps over my mouth to muffle the sound.

“Are we announcing that you’re going to be my wife tonight?” he whispers roughly in my ear.

“Yes,” I manage to whisper. “I’ve already told my parents.”

“Are you saying you’ll marry me?”

I nod. “Yes, Troy. Yes, to all of it.”

His eyes light up at my words, and he thrusts into me harder. Then, pulling back slightly, he slides a finger inside me along with his cock. It’s a tight, almost unbearable having that extra roughness and mass against the smoothness of his cock, but the friction drives me wild.

My hips tighten as the release builds, and when my orgasm finally hits, I bury my face in his neck to muffle my cries, trembling as I whisper, “I love you.”

“I love you too, Georgia,” he groans, his cock jerking as he spills inside me, the warmth of his release filling me just as his words fill my heart.

After he slides me back onto the table, he grabs some paper towels and gently wipes between my legs, his cock still half-hard, glistening with the mixture of us. He grins as he smooths my dress down over my thighs, checking his watch.

“Polls close in thirty seconds,” he kisses me firmly, then helps me off the table. “You ready to become Mrs. Marshall to the new Governor of North Carolina?”

“Hell yeah, big papa.”