Page 39 of Eco-Activist's Mountain Men
“Hey, Prof.” He steps back and wipes his hands on an oily rag. “What do you think of her?” He nods at the tractor with obvious pride.
“Looks impressive.”
“Does, doesn’t she? She’s a John Deere 8R 410. That’s the one with more horsepower than the 370. We sprung for CTIS too—makes all the difference for soil health.”
“CTIS?”
“You mean CTIS, not CITS. Want me to explain?”
I nod, more fascinated by his enthusiasm than the mechanics.
“Cool. It stands for Central Tire Inflation System. Basically, you can inflate or deflate the tires at the push of a button from the cab. Perfect for boggy fields or rocky patches. Saves wear, saves soil, saves fuel.” He lowers his voice, like he’s sharing state secrets. “And she’s got a heated massage seat, 6.1 surround sound, even an integrated fridge. But don’t tell the boys, or I’ll never get her to myself again.”
He winks and grins, then gestures toward the ladder. “Wanna look inside?”
I climb up, settle into the operator’s seat, while he folds out a crew chair beside me. The cab is acres of glass, neat rows of dials and switches, and tan leather everywhere.
“Wow. It’s like the Space Shuttle.”
He laughs. “Go ahead, take the chair. Comfortable, right? That joystick’s the CommandPro. Totally programmable—steering, transmission, bucket, speed control. Does it all.”
“It’s amazing. Must’ve cost a fortune.”
“Somewhere around four hundred grand.”
“I can believe it.”
For a moment, I forget why I came, caught up in his easy confidence, the way everything seems natural to him. But then he tilts his head, sharp eyes on me.
“You didn’t come out here just to drool over my baby. What’s up, Prof?”
Apparently, I’m easier to read than I think. My cheeks heat. “Well… yeah. It’s personal. I was hoping for some advice.”
“Advice? Sure.” He shrugs, casual. “Shoot.”
I swallow. “It’s about… Luna.”
No raised eyebrow, no teasing smirk. Just a calm nod. “Okay. Go on.”
And then it pours out. The shyness, the lack of experience, feeling invisible. Watching him charm women as if it’s second nature. That night with Luna—what it meant to me, and how she acted like it barely happened. My voice shakes, but he doesn’t interrupt, just listens, leaning back with his rag draped over one knee.
“So that’s it,” I finish lamely. “I want to talk to her. I just don’t know how.”
He takes off his John Deere cap, scratches his head, then lets out a long whistle.
“Man. First off—thanks for trusting me with that. I respect it.” He lifts a hand before I can answer. “And yeah, I think I can help. Some practical tips—but first, theory.”
He grins. “You’re the professor. Riddle me this: why do women need men?”
I frown. “Friendship?”
He barks a laugh. “Nope. That’s what their girlfriends are for. You’ve heard of the friend zone, right?”
I groan. “Unfortunately.”
“Exactly. Think cavemen. What did women need back then?”
I hesitate. “…Protection? Food?”
