Page 56 of Where the Blacktop Ends

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 ′publiclyembarrassing 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.”

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