Page 85 of Where the Blacktop Ends

“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.

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