Page 83 of Big Britches
“Self-control is not my forte.” Titus offered a small grin. “That’s something you learned early on.”
Pedro blushed, recalling their first night together. He took Titus’s face in his hands, caressing the firmness of his square jaws, his day-old stubble scraping Pedro’s palms like sandpaper. Pedro combed his fingers through Titus’s hair and said, “Calm down, big guy. I’ll be fine. I promise. Why not take it easy today? Maybe chat numbers with Roz.”
Business talk was always an effective distraction.
Titus stared for a moment, perhaps sensing the intent behind the suggestion. He gave a soft, yielding smile. “OK. But I’m still going to talk to him. I won’t call until lunch, when you’re in the field. Deal?”
“Deal.”
Pedro gave him a kiss and headed out. Before the door closed behind him, Titus hollered loud enough for him to hear: “I may have a lot on my mind, but you’re always numero uno.”
On the drive to work, it was oddly overcast and foggy. As Pedro drove through the quiet streets of Spoon, he considered what all had transpired in the few days since their dinner with Truman and Patricia. The power of mortality to bring change and reveal secrets was alarming, yet humbling. He’d experienced it before, of course, with his own family in Mexico, and Titus had known it with the death of Violet. Yet, here it was happening again. Only this time they both were caught in the currents, being swept directions neither had anticipated.
Love works similarly, he thought.
True. Pedro had once suppressed his feelings, confining them to the lower depths of priority. Now, he no longer saw things in such shades of black and white. His world was awash with color. Not only had love blossomed, altering his course, but with it the promises of a family and a future. Titus had intercepted Pedro’s life and–
Hit me like a truck.
He smiled at the idiom and its relevance. Of course, he’d not been hit, nor hurt, but the “impact” had forever changed his journey. Meeting Titus had shown Pedro a life he’d never foreseen. Knowing their feelings were mutual was a glimpse of much more.
You’re in love.
He was. No doubt… and now the currents were shifting again. Titus was reaching to him from a departing train. He would soon have to make the leap or watch it leave him behind.
Was it possible for a small southern town to elect a gay mayor?
He recalled Truman’s admission to them and what had happened through secrets kept just a generation before.
The more things change, the more they stay the same.
Truman’s one dalliance may have been curiosity, but it further proved Pedro’s speculations that Kinsey was right. The division between gay and straight was far murkier than most will admit.
His introspection fled as soon as he turned into the gravel parking lot of Compton’s Greenscapes. He could just make out Silas’s truck in the fog. Miguel’s too. Pedro pulled into his usual spot and turned the engine off.
He secured his truck, grabbed his cooler from the bed, and made his way across the small parking lot, footsteps crunching in gravel.
Business as usual. Nothing to worry about.
It was growing lighter out, but the fog was persistent. Both buildings were barely distinguishable in the haze. He veered right, passing through its wispy tendrils, toward the barn. A few steps farther and the building materialized in the gloom, its large door open like a mouth.
Miguel, Pedro thought.
It spooked him. He couldn’t shake the sense that something was off.
Chill. It’s just another day at work.
He entered the building and went toward his vehicle. There was no sign of Miguel, none of the typical noise of equipment prep and fueling. Just silence. It was one of the two days Pedro wasn’t assigned to Titus’s property, so he had more gear than usual. He was placing it on the passenger seat side of the large CG stenciled truck when he heard more crunching footsteps approaching.
“Buenos días.”
Miguel.
Pedro hopped down from the running board and shut the door. “I was wondering where you were. It’s gonna be another scorcher if this fog ever clears.”
“Sí. Más caliente que el infierno,” Miguel said, heading toward his own vehicle. “Boss man wants to see you.”
Pedro stepped into the air-conditioned office. It was dark, the only light spilling from a doorway down the hall. Susie, the receptionist, wouldn’t be in for another hour.