Chapter 14 Eric
T he steering wheel burns under my grip as I navigate the sun-scorched country road home. Sweat beads on my forehead, and I can’t tell if it’s the lingering heat or the storm brewing inside me.
Tristan’s warning loops through my head, his voice a rough growl that clashes with Emma’s laughter still ringing in my ears. I’m stuck between the man I want to be for her and the man her brothers will never forgive.
And then there’s Huntz.
If my plan works, he’ll be gone soon. I narrow my eyes against the glare, focusing on the road ahead, refusing to let the thought linger.
At a stop sign, I glance at Emma. Sunlight spills through the window, catching the golden hues in her hair as she taps away on her phone. Her lips move silently as she types, lost in her own world. I wonder if she’s texting her mom. If she’s thinking about her father. If she’s thinking about me.
The fields stretch for miles, golden and swaying, like a reminder of tomorrow’s Harvest Festival. I picture Grandpa’s hands in mine, his face beaming with pride when I announce my engagement. But the image shimmers like a heat mirage, dissolving into the reality of deception. The weight of it presses against my chest.
I pull up to the house, the crunch of gravel under my tires grounding me. Before Emma can reach for the handle, I’m already out, opening her door. The heat presses down on us, thick and unwavering.
"How long before we leave?" she asks, shading her eyes with her hand.
I glance at my watch. "Thirty minutes. Annabelle's probably wrestling with streamers already."
She nods, the sunflower scarf in her hair fluttering in the breeze. "I'll go change."
Her footsteps fade inside, leaving me standing in the quiet, the weight of everything pressing down. I step toward the bookshelf by the open window, the curtains stirring in the breeze. My fingers skim the warm spines of old books before landing on Moby Dick.
I pull it free, revealing the hollow space behind it. The wad of cash feels damp in my palm, heavy with unspoken truths. I tuck it into my jacket, patting my pocket twice before stepping onto the porch.
The land stretches before me, endless and familiar. Tomorrow, the town will be alive with music, laughter, and lies. But for now, it's just me and the cicadas, counting down the minutes until I pay my dues and be free again.
The door creaks open behind me. I turn, and my breath catches.
Emma steps onto the porch, her daisy dukes hugging her curves, her new cowboy boots skimming mid-calf, rich brown leather complementing her sun-kissed skin. Loose waves spill over her shoulders, catching the afternoon light like spun gold.
Jesus, she’s beautiful.
Every step of her boots against the porch boards ignites something hot and restless inside me. I have no idea how I’m supposed to make it through the day without pulling her into the nearest dark corner.
"You're absolutely stunning," I murmur, pressing a bouquet of sunflowers into her hands.
She smiles, her fingers brushing mine. "Thank you, they're beautiful." She disappears inside, setting them in a vase while I follow her into the kitchen.
Something claws at my chest. "Are you okay?" The question escapes before I can stop it.
She moves toward me, her hands sliding around my waist. The moment her body presses into mine, I forget how to breathe.
"Perfect," she murmurs, tilting her face up. Her lips find mine in a slow, teasing kiss.
"Are we taking Suzy?" she asks against my mouth.
“It’s either Suzy or the bikes,” I rasp, still tasting her on my tongue.
"I like Suzy. She has character." She grins, tugging on the brim of my cowboy hat. “And I love the hat.”
I close the small space between us, capturing her lips again, and deepening the kiss. She melts against me, and for a second, I think about skipping the festival altogether.
"Maybe we should stay home?" My hand slides to her backside, gripping tightly.
She laughs, shaking her head. "We promised to help, and everyone’s gonna be there."
"Admit it. You just want to defend your bull-riding championship tonight," I tease as we walk to the car.
She shrugs. "Maybe."
I open the passenger door for her, stealing one more kiss before she slides inside. God, I could kiss her forever.
Ten minutes later, I park Suzy near the bakery. We stroll hand in hand down the dusty road, weaving through the growing crowd. The energy hums with anticipation, a mix of last-minute setups and familiar town chatter.
At the Rusty Lantern Pub, we veer off, cutting through the back field toward the Big Barn. Annabelle strings lights overhead while Derek secures the pie booth. Emma points toward the stage.
“Grandpa’s waving us over.”
"Go ahead. I need to talk to Annabelle for a sec," I tell her.
She nods, disappearing into the crowd. Once she’s out of sight, I turn to my sister.
Annabelle stands with her arms crossed, watching me like she already knows exactly what I’m about to say.
"Are you going back to that asshole landlord?" I ask.
"It’s where I live. I can’t break the lease."
"Sure you can. Just leave."
"I can’t just leave, and you know it." Her voice is firm, but there’s something else in her eyes. "Besides, I don’t want to be anywhere near Huntz."
“He won’t be a problem much longer,” I say.
She tilts her head. “What do you mean?”
“He’ll be leaving town for good.”
Annabelle sets the string of lights on a table and steps closer. “You sound sure.”
“The man is old and reeks of whiskey. His liver won’t hold much longer.”
She folds her arms. “So you’re counting on a man to just drop dead?”
"No. I’m counting down the days until he’s out of our lives." My voice is tight, controlled. "Grandpa’s transferring his assets next week. Once the money’s in my hands, I’ll get rid of Huntz for good."
I grab a stack of pie boxes, focusing on folding the edges. Annabelle doesn’t let up.
"Eric!" Her voice lowers to a horrified whisper. "You can’t keep paying him off."
"I’m just gonna pay him enough to leave town," I mutter.
She rolls her eyes. “That’s the stupidest plan I’ve ever heard. He’ll spend it all on booze.”
"Exactly. And if we’re lucky, he’ll drink himself into an early grave."
She grabs my arm, her grip tight. “You need to stop this. What happened in that house wasn’t your fault.”
My jaw tightens. “Everything that happened that day is my fault. I’m the one who wanted to show you the foal.”
Annabelle’s expression softens, but she doesn’t let go. “Is that why the farm’s going under?”
I shake my head. "It’s not going under. I’ll fix things."
She sighs, rubbing her temples. "You mean, you’re taking the easy way out. You’re counting on Grandpa’s money instead of facing what really needs to change. The fire wasn’t your fault and nothing’s going to get better until you stop paying Huntz."
She’s right. That’s why my next payment will be my last.
I wrap my arms around her, holding her tightly. "Don’t worry. It’ll be over soon."
Once Huntz is gone, Annabelle can finally come home. And I can finally focus on Emma.
I kiss the top of her head and let her go. “Don’t you miss this place? Don’t you miss Derek?”
Her sigh is heavier this time. "Of course, I miss home. And… Yeah, maybe I miss him too. But he’s Blake’s father. That would be weird."
I smirk. "You know, it’s stupid to be alone when the person you love is standing right in front of you."
She narrows her eyes. "Are you talking about me or yourself?"
I glance at Emma. She’s up on stage with Grandpa, laughing with the sheriff.
“Maybe both of us,” I admit.
Annabelle folds her arms, tilting her head. "Are you actually engaged?"
I exhale, watching as Emma waves from the stage.
"I guess, it’ll be official tomorrow night."
My shoulders sink as I lean in, the weight of my own damn lies pressing against my chest. The words taste bitter—like every time I told Annabelle I was fine after Huntz, like the hollow assurances that the nightmares had stopped. But this time, the lie isn’t to protect her.
It’s to save the ranch.
Caroline works at the next booth over, so I grab Annabelle’s arm and steer her away.
“Emma agreed to be my fiancée so Grandpa would sign over his assets,” I say, keeping my voice low.
Her eyes go wide. “What?”
“It started that way, but now…” I rake a hand through my hair.
“But now?” she prompts.
I sigh. “Now, it’s more.”
Her brows lift. “So it is real?”
“Our relationship, yes. The engagement? No.” The admission settles like lead in my gut. “Even though I’d like it to be.”
“Eric!” she whisper-shouts, incredulous.
“What?” I glance around the barn, making sure no one’s listening.
“You’re announcing an engagement tomorrow and you’re not engaged ?” Her voice rises again.
“Seems that way, doesn’t it?”
Her jaw tightens. “What would Grandpa say?”
“He wouldn’t be happy,” I admit. “But I’m gonna make things right next week. I promise.”
We’ll go back to New York. I’ll ask for Emma’s hand, and we’ll live happily ever after. At least, that’s the plan in my head.
“Listen, I’ve got a quick errand to run. Keep an eye on Emma?”
Annabelle folds her arms. “Will do, brother. ”
I nod and slip out the side door, my boots crunching against gravel as I head behind the general store.
Huntz leans against the weathered brick wall, cheap whiskey practically radiating off him. The stench alone pulls me back to that damn cellar. My chest tightens as the air around me shifts. It’s suffocating.
He clutches a brown paper bag, his bloodshot eyes narrowing as I approach.
"You're late." His words slur, his mouth curling into a sneer.
I don’t bother with small talk. I yank the wad of cash from my jacket, my fingers steady despite the rage simmering in my veins. "This is it. The last payment. I’ve already stopped the bank transfers. After tomorrow, you disappear."
He snatches the money, flipping through the bills with nicotine-stained fingers. "Maybe I don't wanna leave. Maybe I like it here, watching you squirm."
His voice is poison, seeping into every crack I’ve spent years sealing shut. My fists clench at my sides, as the need to hit him, to make him feel even a fraction of the fear he put us through, overwhelms me.
“We had a deal,” I growl, stepping closer, my pulse a deafening roar in my ears.
"Deals change." He shoves the cash into his pocket, his mouth twisting into something that barely resembles a grin. "Especially when there's a pretty new fiancée involved."
White-hot rage explodes inside me. Two strides, and I’ve got him pinned against the wall, my forearm digging into his throat. The paper bag drops, whiskey soaking into the dirt. The smell makes my stomach churn.
I lean in, my voice low and lethal. " Listen carefully. If you so much as look at Emma, if you even breathe in her direction—” My voice catches as old memories claw their way to the surface. Rope burns. Musty hay. The sickly-sweet stench of whiskey.
My grip tightens. “I’ll make you wish you’d died in that cellar.”
Huntz chokes, his hands clawing at my arm, but the same cowardice that made him prey on children is still there, just beneath the surface.
"You remember, don’t you?" My voice drops to a whisper, pressing in like a blade. "How many nights did you make us listen to your drunken confessions? How many secrets do you think I still remember?"
His face purples, and I let go, watching with cold satisfaction as he crumples, gasping.
"Get out of my town," I spit, stepping back. "Or next time, I won’t let go."
He scrambles away, his stride unsteady. I brace my hands against the brick wall, sucking in deep breaths, forcing my mind to shove the cellar’s darkness back into its permanent corner. Emma deserves better than the scared kid I used to be.
When I return to the barn, Emma’s arranging a display with Annabelle, her hands fluttering as she laughs at something my sister says. Without thinking, I grab her hand and pull her outside and around the back of the barn.
The setting sun spills amber light over us, the scent of hay thick in the air.
"Eric?" she whispers as I guide her between the hay bales. "What’s wrong?"
I don’t answer. Instead, I press her against the wooden wall, my mouth crashing against hers. She gasps, but her hands tangle in my hair, knocking my hat aside. I kiss her like I need her, like I can drown out the past with the taste of her. Her body molds against mine, soft and warm, and it’s the only thing anchoring me to the present.
When we finally break apart, her fingers trace my cheek.
"You're trembling," she murmurs.
I catch her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm.
"Just nervous about tomorrow," I lie.
She smiles, but there’s a question in her eyes I can’t answer. Not yet. Not until I know for sure that tomorrow isn’t just pretend.
“Everyone’s gathering at the pub. We should go before people start asking questions,” she says.
I exhale slowly. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
Sunlight fades as we make our way toward the celebrations. The small crowd outside the pub hums with excitement, voices rising over the sound of boots on gravel. Inside, the scent of pumpkin spice, beer, and country cooking fills the air. Laughter echoes off the wooden beams, mingling with the music playing over the speakers.
Cornstalks and garlands of colorful leaves hang from every corner, casting a warm glow. At the center of it all, the mechanical bull waits like a challenge.
I nudge Emma. "Ready to defend your title?"
She grins, pointing to a banner stretched above the bull: Reigning Champion: Emma Silver.
“I can’t believe my record held this long,” she says.
"How’s my favorite couple?" Grandpa Albert claps me on the shoulder. "Thought you two would be here sooner."
“Sorry, Grandpa. Today’s been full of surprises,” I say.
"Good surprises?" he asks, eyes twinkling.
I squeeze Emma’s hand. “The best. Thanks for letting us take Suzy.”
“Thank the Fields. They picked us up for lunch so we’ve been here awhile.”
“Are you staying for the competition?” I ask.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world. Excuse me, the corn dogs are calling my name. You kids enjoy the night. Emma, don’t let the bull ride you. You’re the one in control,” he says.
She laughs. “Thanks for the advice.”
"You should be watching your cholesterol, Grandpa!" I call out as he heads toward the corn dog stand.
Emma tugs my arm. "There’s Annabelle and Derek. Misty told me your sister has the hots for Blake’s dad. Let’s go see what they’re up to."
Before I can object, she pulls me across the dance floor.
Annabelle stands near the mechanical bull, poised and elegant as ever, while Derek leans in, murmuring something in her ear. At our approach, Annabelle’s face brightens.
“There you are! We’ve been looking for you.” She pulls Emma into a hug, then turns to me, her gaze flickering with something unreadable.
"When’s the pie-eating contest?" Emma asks, rubbing her stomach. "I’m starving."
Annabelle’s laugh is half-hearted. "After the bull competition. And don’t eat before you ride. Caroline’s been eyeing Thor like she owns him. You’d better win, Emma."
I glance past the bull pen and spot Caroline leaning casually against the railing, all long legs and bright lipstick. She’s twirling a strand of hair around her finger, laughing at something the bull operator says. He leans closer, clearly enjoying the attention. Caroline lays a hand on his arm, and I grit my teeth.
Emma tilts her head. “Thor?”
Annabelle smirks. "The new and improved bull. And he’s mean. "
Emma’s eyes gleam with excitement.
I shake my head, watching the fire light up behind them.
Lord help me, this woman lives for a challenge.
Emma lifts her chin, steel in her spine. "Well, I plan to throw Caroline right off her mighty seat. Where is she?"
Annabelle points to the center ring where the demon-spawn stretches, all smug and full of fake charm. "Caroline comes here from LA every Harvest Fest."
Of course, she does. Like a plague of locusts, showing up just in time to spread misery.
"And how often does she hit on Eric?" Emma asks.
"Every Harvest Fest," Annabelle deadpans, rolling her eyes.
Unfortunately, that part’s true, too.
The twang of a country song sweeps through the pub, boots stomping in time with the rhythm. The room hums with energy—beer flowing, laughter ringing out, pumpkin spice and warm cider tickling the air. Misty and Blake join our group, and Annabelle grins, grabbing Emma’s hand. "Come on. Let’s show Emma something she’s never done before."
Emma plants her feet. "I don’t know how to line dance."
I step in, offering a reassuring smile. "Just follow my lead."
The wooden floor vibrates under our feet as the song kicks up. I keep close to Emma’s side, calling out steps over the music. She glances down at my boots, then hers, a frown of concentration forming.
"Step, tap, step, slide," I repeat, nudging her with my elbow.
It takes a moment—longer than I expect—but then her body finds the rhythm. Her hips sway, the tension in her shoulders eases, and soon, she’s moving like she’s been dancing her whole life.
When she nails a full sequence without missing a beat, her laughter bubbles over. "I did it!"
"You’re a natural," I tell her. And I shouldn’t be surprised, given the performance I saw at the strip club.
We peel off the dance floor and collapse onto a row of hay bales, still catching our breath. The girls giggle and chatter, the night settling into an easy rhythm, until she appears.
"Well, well. If it isn’t Lords Valley’s pie-eating loser," Caroline sneers, her voice as grating as nails on a chalkboard.
Annabelle’s jaw tightens. "You’re not winning this year."
Caroline shrugs, faux innocence painted all over her face. "You’d better stay away from the apple pies, Annabelle. The inches are starting to show on your hips."
Annabelle’s face turns crimson. "Why don’t you get on the bull already and break your damn neck?"
"Don’t worry," Caroline grins, sharp and gleaming. "That championship’s mine."
Before I can step between them, Emma rises. A quiet, calculated smile plays on her lips as she places a hand against my chest with a clear signal that she’s got this. .
She extends a hand toward Caroline. "You must be Caroline." Emma’s voice drips with false sweetness. "Emma Silver. Reigning champion."
She gestures to the banner hanging overhead, then flashes the diamond on her finger. " And Eric’s fiancée."
Caroline’s eye twitches.
"You’re the fiancée?" Her voice pitches higher, eyes darting between us.
I meet her gaze head-on. "That’s right."
It’s like striking a match in a room filled with gasoline. Her expression curdles, lips twisting into a sneer.
"Jesus, Eric. She could be your daughter. What grade is she in?"
My blood boils. "Don’t be a bitch, Caroline. You’re speaking to my future wife ."
Her eyes narrow, calculating. "Wait a minute… Silver? As in, Julian and Tristan’s little sister?"
Emma smiles. "That’s the one."
Caroline’s eyes glint with something dangerous. "Funny, they didn’t mention an engagement when we spoke."
"My family doesn’t know yet," Emma says smoothly. "We’re planning a surprise party next week."
We are?
Caroline’s smirk sharpens, but before she can twist the knife, the sheriff’s voice booms over the microphone.
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Lords Valley’s annual mechanical bull-riding competition. Thor is all greased up and ready to go. A special welcome to Miss Emma Silver , our reigning champion."
Cheers and applause erupt, but Caroline barely flinches. Instead, she flashes a knowing smile, pointing at the banner. "That title won’t be yours for much longer, sweetheart."
A bell chimes overhead.
"First challenger of the night," the sheriff announces. "Ms. Caroline Gnatz."
The energy in the room shifts. Apart from a few polite claps, the crowd stays silent as Caroline hoists herself over the barrier, sauntering toward the bull.
The second she settles into the saddle, the sheriff holds up a hand. "One moment. Technical difficulty."
I take the opportunity to lean into Emma. "What are you drinking?"
"Beer, please."
I press a kiss to her cheek. "Got it. Be right back."
Derek and Blake follow me toward the bar, the crowd tightening around the bull ring.
"Those three were whispering all afternoon at the barn," Blake murmurs. He nods toward Misty, Anabelle, and Emma, heads bent together, whispering. And my heart warms; she fits right in.
I raise a brow. "Anything interesting?"
"Misty looked spooked, so Annabelle gave her a taser."
I nearly choke. "Where the hell did my sister get a taser ?"
"I gave it to her," Derek says flatly. "She was supposed to take it back to San Francisco."
"Were they talking about Huntz?"
Blake nods. "I think so. But Misty says something is bothering Annabelle back in San Francisco."
A muscle ticks in my jaw. "She never should’ve left Lords Valley."
Derek sighs. "She left because of Huntz."
I grip my beer tighter. "Makes me want to squeeze that bastard’s throat until I see his ghost."
The bartender slides our drinks over. Blake weaves through the crowd while Derek levels me with a look.
"When did you get engaged to Silver’s sister? I thought Caroline had your nuts in a bag."
"Fuck off," I mutter. "Emma’s different. She makes me want to clean up the mess Caroline left behind."
Truth is, I want Caroline to pack up her blackmail and disappear forever.
The sheriff’s voice cuts through the chatter. "The bull is ready!"
I return to Emma just in time to hear Blake whisper, "I heard Caroline bought a mechanical bull and stashed it in her garage back in LA."
Emma’s eyes widen as she takes a larger gulp of beer. She’s confident—determined—but I can feel the nerves humming beneath her skin. I slide an arm around her waist, rubbing slow circles over her exposed hip.
Caroline lifts her arms, basking in the attention. The crowd watches as she mounts the bull with ease, the operator giving her a nod.
The bull jerks to life, slow at first, then building. Caroline clings tightly, her body moving fluidly with each vicious buck. Seconds tick by and the room surges forward. Emma leans in, her grip tightening around the beer mug.
"She’s good," she admits.
"She’s gonna fall," I promise, squeezing her shoulder.
Right on cue, the bull whips into motion with speed. The bull twists and bucks like a demon unleashed, its every move testing Caroline’s grip. The crowd roars, the tension in the air thick enough to cut, until Caroline loses her rhythm.
The room collectively gasps as she tumbles onto the mat, but she lasts three seconds longer than Emma’s record.
Emma hands me her beer without hesitation.
"Hold this. I’ll need it to celebrate in four minutes ."
"Four minutes?" I chuckle. "The new record’s three point two-eight."
She smirks. "What can I say? I’m an overachiever ."
With that, she pushes past Caroline, stepping into the pit, and all I can do is watch and wait.