Page 24 of Big Britches
“I’m glad to hear it.” Titus smiled briefly, then broke eye-contact, reaching for his cup. It was a routine, conversational gesture, but Pedro instantly missed the warmth of those eyes on him. He also sensed something had shifted. Minute, but there. Titus seemed agitated, as if wanting to say more but holding back. What did come out of his mouth was nowhere near what Pedro was expecting.
“I owe you an apology.”
For spying on me from your bedroom window?
“What on earth for?” Pedro asked. “We just met.”
Titus’s face flushed, eyes darting away shyly. In that moment, Pedro glimpsed the child within the man. “I just do. I—I regret the way we met this morning. That swimsuit–”
Pedro chuckled involuntarily. At the sound of his laughter, Titus’s eyes found him again, accompanied by an embarrassed, yet endearing smile. “See. You know exactly what I’m talking about. I had no idea that suit was see-through.”
“It’s OK. Really. You were alone and not expecting me. This is your home. You have every right to wear whatever you want.”
“No, sir. That is not the way to meet someone, flashing your junk like the prize bull in a pasture. I don’t want you to assume that’s my way of showing you who’s boss. It’s a dick move—pardon the pun—and I am not like that at all. I promise.”
“I believe you.” Pedro knew this already, though, not from the apology. Titus was clearly kind and unassuming, the kind of man that held doors and pulled out chairs. He had just been caught off-guard. And the more Pedro considered it, the guiltier he felt. After all, he had been the one that kept looking down and?—
¡Dios mío!
–the one that had intentionally put on a makeshift burlesque show while mowing the lawn.
“Honestly,” Titus said, “I’m just glad it was you–another guy, that is–and not my kids or Roz I was flashing. Talk about mortifying.”
Pedro resisted the urge to reach for Titus’s hand. “Well, it’s between us, I assure you. What was it you said? Everything inside the gate stays–”
“–inside,” Titus finished. “Thank you for understanding.”
“Please don’t worry yourself about it.” Pedro continued to downplay. “It was nothing.”
Only it had been something. Something quite memorable, to say the least.
“Speaking of behind the gate, you’ve seen the yard now. Any ideas yet?”
Pedro set his sandwich down, grateful for the change of subject. “Yes. A few. Some of your—“ He wasn’t sure what to call them. Technically, they weren’t trees or shrubs. “—your upper topiaries are getting way too high, obscuring the second-floor windows. You don’t want that.”
“No. I love the scent when it’s cool enough to open the windows—which is never, by the way! And it is a little weird seeing greenery outside your second-floor window. I’m also worried about them being so close to the house. Mildew? Rot? Maybe even termites.”
“They need to be shaped more, tighter, and I’d like to bring them back down low.”
“I’d been letting it go because I don’t think Carlos was crazy about ladders.”
“He’s older, not as energetic with the task, perhaps?”
“I wasn’t gonna say that.”
Pedro grinned. “Because you are a gentleman.”
Titus’s eyes sparkled. “How would you feel about taking them out altogether? Starting fresh?”
Pedro caught just a whiff of innuendo there. Natural, though, not forced at all. “I like starting fresh,” he said. “But I have a hard time doing away with old growth. I would rather transplant them, take that fragrance to specific areas, lower, maybe outside the screened porch. There are also some spots around the guest house. The beds there are pretty, but overgrown. I’d like to add some color, maybe mix some annuals in with the perennials.”
“I think Carlos liked those perennial beds because they’re less maintenance.”
“I’m not at all opposed to working a little harder,” Pedro said, seizing the opportunity for just a wee bit of suggestion himself.
“I’m glad to hear it. I was also thinking about maybe some new trees. Fruit-bearing trees.”
“Yes. And more dogwoods, so when they bloom in the spring, you’ll have contrast.”