Page 14 of Big Britches
“I read a lot. I have a room over at Hawthorne’s.”
“The boarding house? Barb Hawthorne?”
“Yes, sir.”
Titus raised a finger, chiding. “T, remember? Big T if you like.”
Pedro remembered all right. How could he forget? And he did like. Receptors deep and dormant within him stirred, as if flicking a switch and saying, sorry, we prefer these lights on.
“Yes,” he said, blush deepening, thoughts whirling in a hormonal surge, a rolling river sweeping him away. “Yes, T.”
“I hope there’s more than just a landscaper in you, though. I told Silas I need an artist, someone with a vision. I want to change things up around here–total overhaul. I’m tired of seeing the same old thing. Don’t get me wrong. Carlos was great. It’s just–he was older and a little more traditional. I’m curious about your opinion, once you’ve seen the place, I mean. Something tells me you might think more outside the box.”
Outside the box.
That was an idiomatic expression Pedro did know. It was one of his favorites, actually, and the change of subject helped with returning his focus. He sensed that Titus might have done it intentionally, nobly extending a branch for him to hold while climbing ashore.
“Your property is beautiful, big?—”
Big. That seemed to be the appropriate adjective for everything so far.
“—the perfect canvas. But let me get started with some basics first. Cutting and trimming around both houses will give me the chance to see more and acclimate. I enjoy bringing balance to homes with depth, shape, and color. I lean heavily on a feng shui approach.”
Titus’s brow furrowed. “I beg your pardon?”
“Feng shui? It’s a Chinese principle using energy forces and balance to harmonize your environment.”
“Oh.” Titus grinned. “For a second, I thought you said something dirty.”
Pedro opened his mouth to speak, but he wasn’t sure what to say. Was this enormous, wet hunk of a man flirting with him?
“My bad,” Titus said, sensing he’d overstepped bounds. “Please forgive me. I’m just a big dummy. I get a little anxious meeting people. Don’t get out much since my wife died.”
“I heard. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you. It’s been a while now, but it’s very kind of you to say. Guess I’m the subject of all kinds of rumors out there.”
“No.” Pedro shook his head, feeling compelled to assure him. “Not that I’ve heard. Only that you keep to yourself and that is something I, too, can relate to.”
Titus smiled again, but there was something else in his eyes, something far away from the usual client meetings and small talk. Pedro glimpsed a profound sadness in those amber eyes—vulnerable, conflicted, and deeply human.
The rawness was brief, but so intense in the moment that Pedro once again succumbed to conditioned behavior by looking away.
Down.
The bulge was there just like before, waiting for him, testing the elasticity of the white spandex.
Pedro looked up quickly, his blush returning equally fast.
Titus chuckled, securing the towel around his waist. “I like you, Pedro,” he said. His tone remained affable, extending amnesty, and subduing awkwardness with charm. “We’re kindred souls, content with being hermits.”
“Perhaps there’s solidarity in our solitude.”
“You have a way with words, too. Something tells me that passion might extend to landscaping. The way you explained it. The fang sh?—”
“Feng Shui.” Pedro said, offering a small smile.
“Yeah. That. Tell you what,” Titus reached out and gave Pedro’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. He let his hand rest there and Pedro relished the way it felt, heavy and comforting like books on a shelf. “You do your thing, and I’ll meet you at noon for lunch by the pool. You can tell me all your plans then. Deal?”