Chapter 18
Walking around with Westley, Charlotte basked in the weak autumn sun, knowing winter was a whisper away. Eric didn’t take her hint that she wanted to talk to him. She had even chosen his favorite ice cream flavor. Her heart was in turmoil. What should she do? Could she really stay in Sugar Creek forever? Seeing Eric filled her with all the same chemical emotions she felt that night in the back of his truck. But he was so distant and much more interested in the stupid tractor pull.
She opened up her napkin to wipe her chin.
Wait, something was written on the inside.
Her heart thundered as she read the scribbled words.
If you still want to talk, meet me at the corn maze.
Of course she wanted to talk. But how could she distract Westley?
Westley wasn’t stupid, he knew there was something between her and Eric. That was why he’d accepted his challenge for the tractor pull.
But could she get away? She just wanted to explain to Eric that she wasn’t trying to hurt him. She just hadn’t figured herself out yet.
“Hey, I need to talk to talk to someone. I’ll be right back.”
“I can come, too.”
“Go ahead and sign up for the tractor pull. I’ll be right back.”
“Okay. I love you, Charlotte.”
She turned and smiled, his words hitting her with force. “Thank you.”
With a roiling stomach, she went to go find Eric, holding her cone with a death grip.
Eric stood outside the truck. His eyes lit up when he saw her.
He nodded for her to come around the back. “I was about to head to the corn maze.”
Charlotte followed him, twisting her fingers and licking the cone.
Once they were in the cold shadow of the struck, she launched first. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to explain.”
Eric held off, leaning against his truck, looking so hot in his flannel and jeans.
“Before I drove down here, Westley and I broke up. It broke my heart. But now he says he changed his mind. He still wants me.”
Eric mulled this over, taking off his hat and putting it back on his head a few times. “Then you have to figure out what you want. I know what I want, and I’m willing to fight for it. My philosophy is simple. A real man puts a sweater on a half-naked girl, not takes it off. What you say of Westley, he’s not a real man. Let me tell you a story. One day, ice blew through Sugar Creek. I looked outside, saw our cows and our dairy were fine. So I assumed everyone else was too. Then I started seeing people suffering on social media and other places. I felt so bad that I hadn’t immediately gone out and helped. I assumed that everyone was okay because I was okay. I’m not making that assumption again. If I see someone hurting, I want to help them, even if they don’t know it.”
She raised her chin. “I believe in apology and change.”
“What has he done that showed you he’s changed?”
That was a great question. So far, he seemed exactly the same.
Eric kept his steady gaze on her. “Again, I know what I want. And I’m going after it.”
With that, he turned, opened the door and went inside the food truck.
A waft of frying goodness went by her.
“What did he mean by fighting for me? For going after what he wanted?” She shook her head. What was that going to look like? Egad! The idea erupted in her mind. She knew exactly how he was going to do it.
She knocked on the door.
Angie answered by sticking her head out. “Yes?”
“I need Eric.”
He quickly moved Angie out of the way and stuck his head out. “You need me, huh?”
“You’ll humiliate Westley at the tractor pull.”
“He won’t need any help from me.”
“Please, let it go. He has a delicate ego. If you humiliate him, he won’t—”
“Do you care so much about him?”
Charlotte bit her lip. She wasn’t sure what she wanted, but she needed to make up her mind sooner rather than later. She couldn’t keep them both strung along. “He’s really sensitive about his physical abilities. You don’t have to prove that you’re stronger. You already know you are.”
“But he doesn’t know it.”
Charlotte wrung her hands. “I don’t want him to get hurt.”
“Physically or mentally?”
“Both?”
Eric narrowed his eyes. “Why don’t you stop him? I’m sure he’ll do anything you ask him.”
“I’m not sure I could stop him. He wants to compete with you. He thinks he can totally take you. I saw it in his eyes when you challenged him. He might get hurt.”
“That’s a risk he’s willing to take.”
She wanted to stamp her feet and make him rescind the challenge.
“May the best man win. Or maybe you can determine who the best man is right now, Charlotte. Tell me right now that you want to spend the rest of your life with Westley, and I will lose the tractor pull. I’ll walk away and let him win.” He stared straight into her eyes. “But if you tell me right now that I’m your man, then—”
Charlotte couldn’t think. Emotions jumbled all over themselves in her chest. “Don’t make me choose right now.”
“Then you’ll have to watch him lose.” He lowered his voice. “You’re worth fighting for and worth any risk.” He dipped his head and ducked back into the truck.
His sincerity rocked her. She needed to figure out who and what she wanted. And fast. “I am not a prize to be won,” she muttered.
“Hear ye, hear ye! Step right up to the seventeenth annual charity tractor pull!”
Eric warmed up his shoulders with wide circles while he stood next to the announcer. He’d yet to see Westley appear. Had he forgotten? The sun sagged to the west, casting an orange glow over the events. A chill from the mountains behind him gave him a burst of energy. Westley hadn’t chicken out, had he? Honestly, Eric wouldn’t be surprised.
But he would be disappointed if he didn’t show. How else would he prove to Charlotte he was the better man?
The crowd gathered around the two giant green tractors, murmuring and cheering on the contestants who pulled, two at a time, across the field. The Sugar Mamas, with their tiaras and rhinestone dresses sparkling in the evening sun, came over to cheer on the contestants.
Maybe it was all the hand milking he’d done as a kid. Maybe he was just more buff, but Eric had won the tractor pull every year for the last five years. And he would win today. So much more was at stake. He had to win back Charlotte.
A large rope was tied to the front end of each tractor. All he had to do was pull the tractor the farthest. A line judge measured the back wheel starting position to the back wheel of where he’d leave it. He watched as the judges measured each round. He could do better.
Piece of apple cake.
At dusk, nearly all the competitors had gone. But where was his competition?
A few other Sugar Creek locals always tried to win. The few remaining competitors stood in a patch of grass flapping their arms across their bodies and doing a few jumps to limber up.
Eric slapped blood flow into his thighs, holding his breath, scanning the heads of the spectators.
Through the crowd, he saw Westley’s tall, dark, and handsome head part the crowd. Behind him, Charlotte followed in his wake.
A jolt of adrenaline shot through him. He may lose the dairy this coming Tuesday, but he would have a victory tonight. After a few squats, he joined Westley, who had changed into gym shorts and wore a sweatband around his forehead. Was he planning on running a marathon?
Eric wanted to belittle him in his mind, but he couldn’t. Westley stood at about six feet two inches. His broad shoulders looked more intimidating in the T-shirt rather than the short-sleeved button-up shirt he wore earlier. He had some definition in his arms. Sizing up Westley, Eric acknowledged him as a worthy opponent and not one to be trifled with. “You ready?” Eric asked.
“As I’ll ever be.” Westley’s deep-timbered voice sounded foreboding.
Eric nodded to Charlotte.
“Charlotte! Come here with us!” Coco, standing with the Sugar Mamas in the grass, called to her.
Charlotte gave Eric a meaningful look, but he couldn’t place it.
Well, he’d given her a chance to stop this. At any point, she could make her wishes known.
At last, it was him against Westley.
Eric stood to left of the rope tied to the front of the tractor. He let out a steady breath, shaking his hands at his sides, giving small bounces on the grass.
“On your mark!”
Threading the rope through his shoulder, Eric brought it around his chest and through his other shoulder. Harnessing himself like a horse, he was ready. This was his trademark secret. He used both shoulders.
He let out a wavering breath, concentrating all his strength into the center.
Eric shook his head. The reason the others lost was because they all had the wrong technique. Eric wasn’t stronger. He was smarter. He leveraged physics as well as his own strength.
He glanced over to Westley. He stood about a head taller than Eric, with large, lean shoulders.
To Eric’s surprise, Westley adopted his strategy, wrapping the rope through both of his shoulders.
Eric gulped. No one had ever copied him before. If his strategy was the only thing that gave him an edge, he’d find out today.
He nodded toward his competitor.
Westley returned the nod with a sneer.
At the whistle, Eric pulled the rope at his shoulders. Digging his feet into the grass, he grunted, hauling the tractor with his might, warm-faced, straining against the weight. His shoulders burned. The rope dug into his skin. The tractor gave under his strain.
One step.
Two.
Charlotte’s sweet face found room in his mind. He gained momentum. Hope surged through him.
He took a moment to look beside him. Just a glance.
Just to see how far ahead he was of Westley.
Only, he wasn’t that far ahead.
In fact, Westley was gaining on him.
Gritting his teeth, Eric bore down, biting deeper into the grass with his feet, lowering his stance until his thighs burned, trying to outpace Westley.
He had grit, Eric had to admit. His face burned. His shoulders ached, straining against the rope harness.
Westley was neck and neck with Eric.
Eric must keep going. He had to win. Pain burst through his head, throbbing through his temples.
He would keep going at all costs. For Charlotte.
More slow steps. His knees nearly gave out. His foot slipped. His hand shot out catching him, but pain shot through his pinky. He might have broken a finger. He stood, leaning into the rope again, heat soaring through him.
More painfully slow steps. He kept his gaze on the ground, trudging one step at a time. Lightning hit him with each pull.
A burn started at his neck, but he ignored it.
More steps. For Charlotte.
He could no longer see Westley in his peripheral vision. In fact, with each step forward, the edges of his eyes blurred more with blackness. His knees went slack. His hands slipped. And finally darkness crowded the edges until everything faded to black, and his body felt light and weightless.
The next thing he knew, he awoke with a searing pain behind his eyes.
Cheers rocked his ears. Everything sounded so close, yet so far away.
Two men picked him up. They carried him back to a clapping and anxious crowd.
Eric tried to protest. His hands stung with rope burns. Had he won?
The collar of his shirt brushed against his neck. He let out a yowl.
“The judge is measuring the lines now.”
He tried to stand on his own, but his legs gave out. One of the men propped him up. He smelled body odor and hoped it wasn’t his own. The scent of it made his stomach churn.
“Someone get him a chair.”
Out of nowhere came a chair and none too soon. Someone slapped him on his back. His sore thighs buckled beneath him just as they set it underneath him.
“I’ve never seen anything like that!”
“What a competition!”
“He sure gave him a run for his money.”
Eric couldn’t tell who was talking or who, indeed, they were talking about.
“I’ve never seen such grit.”
He hoped they were talking about him.
“That sure was amazing.”
Eric wanted to know what happened. Had he won?
“Shhh,” someone in the crowd said. “Homer’s announcing the winner.”
“Third place. Aaron Dodger.”
Eric’s mouth went dry. Why hadn’t he brought a water bottle?
He glanced around to try to find Charlotte or even Westley in the crowd now that he could focus. But he couldn’t see either of them.
“Second place. Westley Dirk.”
He relaxed. At least he beat Westley, right?
Sweat dripped into his eyes, stinging them. He looked up to where Homer Potts stood in front of the spectators waiting on bated breath.
“The winner, by a long ways, and setting a new Sugar Creek record, Eric Benton.”
Eric tried to stand when they called his name, but his legs buckled beneath him.
“We’ve never seen anyone pull a tractor that far!”
The crowd parted so he could actually see the tractors in the field.
Eric gasped. His tractor was several lengths in front of Westley’s. He blinked. That was unheard of! Usually only a few feet, if that, separated the winners.
More slaps on the back, but Eric was ready for them this time. They congratulated him and shook his burning hands. Finally, someone got him a drink.
He gulped the apple juice like it was the elixir of life.
He’d won! His chest swelled. He no longer felt the pain throbbing in his temples. He held his weary hands overhead.
A sting bit through him. Wincing, he pressed a finger into his neck. Moisture met his touch.
He grabbed his phone and took a picture.
A deep rope burn scored his neck, red and angry. Sweat must’ve poured into it. He needed a shower. But nothing could dampen his moment of victory.
At last, he found Westley and Charlotte.
He sat on the ground, clutching his temples.
What a wimp!
But Charlotte fussed over Westley.
All the wind went out of Eric’s sails. “What’s wrong?” He approached Charlotte kneeling over Westley.
“Exertion headache.” She faced Eric, her jaw set, eyes fierce. “I told you not to push him.”
“I didn’t push him. He knew what he was getting into.”
Westley waved a hand. “I don’t know if it’s the elevation…”
Eric cocked a hip, rubbing his sore hands. “Sugar Creek is only about nine hundred feet above sea level.”
“Yes, but Toronto is only at seventy-six meters.” Charlotte pursed her lips.
Eric didn’t want to do the conversion math, but he figured Toronto was low. Still, he doubted it was the elevation.
Standing, Westley kept his head down. He groaned. “I’m going to head back to the hotel to get cleaned up and take some aspirin.” He reached his hand out to Charlotte to give her a kiss.
Eric noticed the rope burns in his palms.
So did Charlotte.
“Oh, Westley!” she exclaimed, holding his hands and kissing them.
“I’m okay. Don’t make a fuss. I’m fine.” Westley caught Eric’s gaze and winked while Charlotte caressed his hands.
What a faker!
Westley returned his attention to Charlotte. “But I should probably get some bandages and ice on them. See you in a bit?”
“Yes, of course.”
Gingerly, Westley limped across the field. Holding his back and his head.
Eric grinned. He was victorious. Charlotte stayed to talk to him. This was it! The moment he’d been waiting for.
Charlotte turned and faced him. Her face twisted into a grimace. “I told you not to humiliate him.”
“What?” Eric blinked in surprise.
“He’s really hurt, and you pushed him to it. You just had to shoot to a level ten, didn’t you? He wouldn’t have tried so hard if you hadn’t egged him on. ”
“I’m sorry. What?” All the throbbing from his head settled back into his crown. “I won. Aren’t you going to congratulate me?” His whole body ached.
“Westley’s exertion headaches can last days. He got genuinely hurt, and you made him look weak.”
“He didn’t need my help.” He winced as soon as he saw her expression.
Pain crossed her face.
“Did you want me to lose?” he asked, his hands burning. He tucked them into his pockets to keep her from seeing the rope burns.
“I am not a prize to be won.” Anger flashed in her eyes.
“I didn’t say you were.”
“But you were competing for me.”
More like our egos, but he couldn’t admit to that. “It’s not like that.”
“I should get a say who I get to be with.”
“Yes, you should. Choose.”
She bit her lip, anguished. “I can’t do this right now.”
All the high he’d felt from winning blew out of him, making the disappointment and gut sink hurt even worse. She didn’t want him. “You’ve made your choice then.” His voice turned sour. “Go. Be with him. I won’t bother you anymore.”
With that, he turned and limped off to find Angie. Every joint of his body hurt, but he refused to look weak now. He kept his head strong and high. It wasn’t until he got to his truck that he collapsed onto the passenger seat, his energy flagging. Thankfully, he’d hooked up the food truck before the tractor pull.
“Are you all right?” Angie’s voice broke the haze.
After the pull, he had zero grip strength. “You’ll have to drive home.” He needed a soak in Epsom salts. With the last of his energy, he found the keys. Every touch of his hand burned. He tossed them to Angie.
He didn’t remember anything else.