Page 84 of Where the Blacktop Ends

"Yeah, baby," I murmur, tucking her closer. "I’ve got you. Always."

Chapter 32 – Georgia

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 theway 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 saidchickens 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.

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