Having Beann Dealgach as the backdrop of the games surely make every man feel a thousand feet tall.Neil's technique is different from mine.Where I rely on explosive power at the release, he builds momentum gradually with his body coiled like spring.Four rotations, five in the circle, swinging the hammer with a casual grace I envy.Only a wee bit, though.
On his final spin, he unleashes the hammer with a mighty grunt that resonates across the field.The crowd holds its collective breath as the hammer soars through the air, and I can't help wringing my hands.
The hammer lands with a heavy thud, kicking up dirt.The official rushes to measure, and I can tell by Tam's smug grin before the announcement even comes that he's beaten me.
"Neil Balfour is..."The announcer pauses for exactly three seconds."The new leader with a throw of seventy-eight feet, four inches!Congratulations, Neil!"
Gretchen and I watch several events from the bleachers, but soon, it's time for me to prove my strength in another event---the keg toss.I roll my shoulders and crack my neck as I prepare for my toss.This is where brute strength comes into play more than finesse.The keg weighs about fifty pounds, a decent challenge, but nothing I can't handle after years of stunt work.
"What's this one about again?"Gretchen asks, tracking my movements with her gaze as I approach the starting line."You just...throw the keg as far as you can?"
"Aye, it's that simple," I reply, flexing my fingers."I need to toss the ken over that bar there.Height is what matters, not distance."
She squints at the horizontal bar set about fifteen feet in the air."That seems impossible."
"Watch and learn,mo leannan."I smile at her, enjoying the way her eyes linger on my arms as I strip off my outer shirt, leaving nothing but my fitted T-shirt that shows every muscle I've earned through years of hard training and risky stunts.
Gretchen aims a look at me that's half appreciation, half exasperation."Show-off."
"Only for you, lass."
I approach the keg, feeling the weight of it as I lift it in my hands.The trick is to get a good grip, squat deep, and use the power in my legs to launch it upward.I've spent enough time doing weighted squat jumps that this should be child's play.
Other competitors are stretching, a few taking practice swings with empty kegs, waiting for their turn.Tam observes me with his eyes narrowed, and Neil is chatting up some lass in the front row.That's typical of him, socializing when he should be paying attention to the event at hand.
"Kirk Balfour, you're up!"the official calls.
Time to show Gretchen just how powerful I am.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Gretchen
I can't stop myself from biting my nails as I watch the man I adore shuffle forward, hefting the keg to his chest.The crowd has gone silent as everyone waits with bated breath to see if Kirk Balfour, stuntman extraordinaire and Scottish hunk who's stolen my American heart, can win the keg toss at the Highland Games.That keg must weigh a ton, or whatever the Scottish equivalent of a ton is.I've been in Scotland long enough to know it's not called a "stone," but still not long enough to remember the actual units of measurement in this country.
"Come on, Kirk," I whisper under my breath, earning an odd look from a gray-haired woman beside me who's clutching her tartan shawl like it's a security blanket.
The muscles in Kirk's forearms flex as he secures his grip.Even from here, I can see the determination etched across his face.It's the same look he gave me last night when he assured me that he could "show me what a real Highlander can do to make a woman's toes curl."And boy, did he deliver on that promise.
"Lass," the old woman snickers at me, "ye're blushing like a sunset on Ben Nevis."
I fan my face, desperate to cool the heat in my cheeks."Sorry, can't help it.I'm totally invested in the competition."
She snorts."Aye, yer 'invested' in those braw arms."
Oh, I can't argue with that assessment.Kirk's muscles strain his shirt as he plants his feet wider, preparing for the throw.The crowd holds its collective breath.Even Tam, Kirk's normally stoic brother, is leaning forward from his position near the judges' table and craning his neck.
"You can do it, sweetie!"I shout, more to reassure myself than anyone else.
Kirk takes three quick steps forward, his expression tight and sweat dribbling down his face.The crowd's energy feels electric, crackling around us as Kirk launches the keg skyward with a guttural roar.The keg spins through the air, end over end, seeming to hang suspended for a heartbeat before gravity reclaims it.My breath catches in my throat as that keg sails past the marker of the previous competitor.
"Holy crap," I gasp as the keg crashes down with a thud that I swear makes the ground beneath my feet tremble.
The judge walks over to the competitors, measuring tape in hand.The crowd goes silent as one, and I find myself rising onto my tiptoes, straining to see what's going on.
"Twenty-seven feet, four inches!"the judge declares, his voice booming across the field."That's a new record!And Kirk Balfour just demolished it!"
As the crowd erupts around me, I'm screaming before I realize the significance of this moment.I start jumping up and down like a teenager at her first concert, not giving a hoot that the old woman beside me is tutting her disapproval.I finally catch sight of Kirk, and his triumphant grin is so dazzling that it could power all of Scotland during a winter blackout.
