by Joel Skelton
“Hey Tweedle Dick, got a batting lineup we can look at?” Andy asked.
“Sure enough do. Damn, I play ball for nights like this. Think about the poor saps who are stuck inside watching Wheel of Fortune or some other shit like that.”
Baseball for Spencer was like church to some people. Ian loved this about his friend. The whole experience was sacred. A part of his life he couldn’t live without.
“Is Allison coming?” Unable to muster up any interest in the batting lineup, he settled on some small talk.
“Naw, her mother is over. They’re going through garden books. Andy, I’ll probably have an order for you in the next day or two,” Spencer warned.
“No sweat. Let me know and I’ll put it together.” Andy buried his nose in Spencer’s clipboard. “I sure hope Allison doesn’t get on that crazed heirloom tomato thing this year,” he added, looking up for a second. “I didn’t want to say anything, but I took a real hit in the wallet rustling up a few of the varieties she’d set her sights on.”
Ian looked around at the stands. A few stragglers. Nothing like later in the season when the team had gelled and everyone was in the groove. Then the stands would be full. It was a little too early yet. For the next few weeks, the Hornets would practice on both Tuesday and Wednesday nights. When the actual season started, they would practice on Tuesday and play a team on Wednesday. The weekends were kept free up until the tournaments.
“Well, let’s get practice rolling.” Spencer blew on the shiny new whistle Allison had picked up for him the day before.
Playing centerfield bored Ian, but tonight, it was just what he needed. He struggled to keep his mind on the game. Meeting Harper had unleashed a desire, a need that begged for attention. Maybe it’s time to go on the hunt again. He was surprised. For the first time in as long as he could remember, he didn’t slam the door on the idea of seriously pursuing a relationship. But he would need to be more cautious this time around and look for warning signs no matter how good the sex was. Kevin, the last man in his life, had been great in bed and worthless at anything else. Kevin’s laziness and lack of responsibility had crept up, suffocating and choking Ian’s existence. Life with Kevin had ended poorly with friends caught in the middle. It was embarrassing to admit to being manipulated by a large dick. It wouldn’t happen again. This time around would be different. He wanted a guy who would challenge him, give him a run for his money in and out of bed. Ian chuckled. It was curious how meeting someone like his new client could trigger these thoughts. Oh well, a handsome man, a warm spring night… he’d leave it at that, he decided, when he realized he’d been sniffing his glove for the last several minutes.
Concentrate!
The team looked good. There were decent hits and lively base play right out of the gate. Striking out his first at bat, he popped a fly out to left field on his second time up, which was promptly caught by Snotty Scotty to end the inning.
A series of hot pitches kept the outfield quiet in the next inning. He couldn’t stay focused. The image of Harper in his suit had occupied a good portion of his thoughts all day. It was one of those strange attractions. Almost like having a crush on a movie star. You fantasized about them with the understanding you would never actually get to do anything with them or, in this case, to them. He had plenty of ideas about what he’d like to do with a Harper Callahan. Plenty of ideas.
He was brought back to reality by the loud crack of a bat. He watched the ball sail high into the air, hang there long enough for him to sneak a quick glance at home plate—Is it?—and then descend rapidly right—Holy shit! He’s here. Harper’s sitting in the stands!— past his open glove.
“Hey,” Ian called up to Harper in the stands when the game had ended. “Thanks for stopping by.”
“Thank you. I really enjoyed watching you play.” Harper stepped down the bleacher seats until he’d reached the bottom. “I’ve driven by these fields a million times and never thought to stop and watch. Thanks for reminding me they were here.”
“We love it when people come to watch.” Ian wasn’t sure what else to say. What’s he doing here? He’s not some kind of nutjob, is he? Judging by Harper’s appearance and his home on the popular parkway, this guy had some bucks. Why wasn’t he sitting in some expensive seats watching the Twins play if he enjoyed baseball so much? Really? You got off on watching us practice?
Although Harper begged off on joining him and his teammates for a beer after practice, he did linger around long enough to be introduced to both Andy and Spencer, who, despite Ian’s fears, managed to be on their best behavior.
“I think he might be sweet on you, Spanky,” Andy mentioned when they had gotten to the bar. “I wish he was sweet on me. He’s a certified bone-in hottie.”
They were seated at “their” table in the corner of Merl’s Liquor Lounge.
“Listen, cheek-splitters, you both need to give the dude a break,” Spencer challenged, guzzling the last of his beer and pouring another from the second pitcher of the night.
“Cheek-splitters?” Ian looked over to Andy and, without a word exchanged, agreed not to acknowledge Spencer’s lame cut, even though this was one they hadn’t heard before. Spencer was good for at least one offensive name a night. He and Andy kept a list.
“It would be a hell of a thing to read at his funeral,” Andy had speculated with pride.
“And he’d like that,” Ian had confirmed.
“You lost us on that one, Breeder Bob.” Ian was reminded he needed to spend some time on the Internet searching for straight dude slang. “Give him a break because…?”
“From what I’ve heard so far, you’re grasping at pubes with this one,” Spencer argued. “You have no concrete proof he’s one of your people, that’s number one. Number two: Ian, the dude told you he loved baseball… so… is it crazy that you reminded him of how easy it would be to hop in his car, drive a few blocks, and get his baseball fix on?”
Spencer could only play man-crush with them for so long before he tired of the game.
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Ian agreed, downing his beer. Even if his new client had ulterior motives for showing up, it wasn’t anything he felt like pursuing. Finding sex when he needed it had never been a struggle. Messing around with a client was a path he knew he’d be better off not going down. Even if the client did top the charts in the looks department. It’s not worth it, Ian. It never is.
Chapter 3
IAN sat on the grass and cracked open his soda. It amazed him how somebody else’s yard could start to feel like his own in such a short period of time. Not always, but the feeling happened more often than not. This was his third visit to Harper’s, and already it felt like home.
Does it feel like home, or do I want it to be home?
All afternoon his thoughts darted back and forth from his designs to Harper and his unexpected visit to the field. Spencer’s right. The dude just wanted to get out of the house and watch baseball.
Setting his sketches out, he sipped his soda and reviewed his work.
It’s maybe more than he’s expecting, but I think it makes the best use of the space. It’s a starting point.
The designs were ready to scan and e-mail. He had provided two water feature options. One called for a buildup of rock near the patio as the source of a gentle brook which would cascade down to a pool located off to one side of the seating area. If he went with this approach, he’d have to be careful to keep the feature small—relaxing and not distracting or overbearing. The other idea, the one he seemed to be gravitating back to more often, was to build up the far left-hand corner of the yard in a series of terraces and from there cascade the water along the side of the yard all the way down to the patio. Because this feature began at a distance, it could be bigger and more dramatic. He’d present the two options to Harper and let him decide.
Swigging down the last of his soda, he gathered up his sketches and shoved them into his shoulder bag. Standing, he discovered his leg had fallen
asleep. Limping around in a circle, he froze when a bright blue Smart Car pulled into the driveway.
No way! It can’t be! He hadn’t considered still being around long enough to run into Harper.
Now what am I going to do? I can’t even walk!
“Hey, Ian, what a pleasant surprise.” Harper opened the back gate and entered the yard. “How’s it going?”
Feeling trapped and ridiculous, he chanced a step forward, a big mistake. His leg buckled, and he landed on his knees.
“Wow, you okay?” Harper scurried over to him and offered a hand.
“My foot fell asleep,” he admitted, accepting Harper’s hand as he stood back up.
“I hate it when that happens.” Harper laughed. “I wasn’t sure what was going on with you.”
He wasn’t sure what was going on with him either. Having Harper stand so close was electrifying. If he’d felt like this before, he couldn’t remember when.
Is it warming up? I feel hot!
On his feet again with Harper’s help, he shifted his weight back and forth until he was certain his drowsy leg could support him.
“It turned out to be such a nice day, I decided to work on your yard design here. I’ll scan this stuff when I get home tonight and send it over to you in an e-mail.”
“You could do that, or if you’re not in a rush, I could grab us a few beers and we could go over them now. You in a hurry to get out of here?”
He was excited to show off his designs. He liked what he’d done, which in the past had been a clear indication his work was solid. And he didn’t have anywhere else he needed to be.
This is against my better judgment, but what the hell. Maybe I can figure out what this dude is up to.
“Well, if you’re not busy with something else,”—he was careful to keep the excitement out of his voice—“let’s take a look at what I’ve worked up for you. I can answer any questions or concerns you have now.”
“Cool! I’m excited to see what you’ve done. How’s the leg? Can you make it from here into the house okay?” Harper gave him some space to test his walking abilities.
“Oh yeah, it’s back to normal.” Maybe I can wet my pants for an encore!
“Follow me.” Harper headed toward the back door. “We can spread your designs out on the dining room table.”
He followed Harper into the house. The back door opened into a small, updated kitchen. He came close to letting out a squeal when he spotted a pasta faucet over the stove.
Someday I’ll have one of those.
Harper opened the stainless steel refrigerator and pulled out two beers. “I’ve been on an ale kick lately. Will this be okay?”
“Sure,” Ian said, taking the beer. “I’ll drink anything.”
“I’m not fussy either. I also have wine, so let me know. And Jameson. With a name like Callahan, you’re almost expected to have it on hand. Through here’s the dining room.”
He followed Harper through an arched opening into a cozy dining area anchored by a huge, dark buffet. “I’m going to get out of this suit. Make yourself at home. Mind if I turn on some music?”
“Not at all.” For the second time in a matter of minutes, he felt hot.
Harper walked over and grabbed a remote off the buffet. Lady Gaga filled the room, the origins of the sound undetectable. “Okay, see you in a minute.”
Cool! He likes Gaga.
Setting his bag on a chair, he pulled his designs out, arranging them in the right order for his presentation. He contemplated what chair to take and eventually chose one on the side. He’d save the head of the table for his client. Taking his seat, he looked around the room for some “Harper” clues.
To his right, he could see into the living room. There was a fireplace. Sweet! It smelled really good in here. Was it Harper’s cologne? The few pictures he could see from where he was sitting were contemporary, bold colors that warmed up the stark white walls. The hardwood floors were covered with deep, rich area rugs. The rooms looked both tasteful and masculine.
He tried to suppress a grin as he imagined Harper undressing on the second floor. The stairs must be located somewhere in the living room. And they were wooden, he deduced when he heard Harper going up.
Is he standing up there in his underwear? Boxers or briefs… or boxer briefs. Hmmm, I vote boxers.
He was about to scold himself when he heard footsteps coming down. Reaching for his beer, he took a sip and came close to spitting it out, a reaction to Harper, who swept into the room dressed in running shorts and a T-shirt.
“How’s the ale? Are you enjoying it?” Harper examined the label of his own bottle, waiting for a response.
“Yes,” he managed to eke out, trying desperately not to choke.
Like his head, Harper’s legs and arms were shaded with black hair. He loved men with black hair. He loved how sexy black hair looked when it was wet and matted to the skin.
This dude is incredible. He’s got it all going on.
“Let’s see what you’ve got.” Harper plopped down in the side chair directly across from him. “I’m really excited.”
“Ah… okay.” He reached for his designs and flipped through them one more time to make sure they were in order before starting. “Here’s a sketch of how I envision your patio to look. I’d like to suggest you use some old street pavers. They’re not the cheapest route to go, but I think they would work great. The pavers I have in mind are well worn, with an occasional spot of street paint here and there. Lots of character.”
“I love the herringbone pattern you have shown. I’m sold! Can you get enough to do the pathways to the garage and around to the front of the house?” Harper seemed to genuinely like what he was looking at.
“Sure. You’re a step ahead of me. I was hoping you’d go for keeping the pathways and the patio consistent.”
“That was easy. What’s next?” Harper sipped his beer and smiled.
There was the slightest hint of playfulness, a challenge in his voice when he posed his question. When he looked up from his sketches and saw the goofy grin on Harper’s face, he felt his face flush for the second time, or maybe the third.
He showed Harper the design he had in mind for the arbor and described for him a few aggressive vines to cover the frame.
“You know how you’re not sure what you want until you see it? This is exactly the look I was going for. Nice work!” Harper leaned in, examining the designs.
This was going well. Ian paused for a minute and took a sip of his beer. Harper seemed impressed with his choices and easy to please. Several times as he explained the differences between this vine choice or that type of wood, their eyes locked. Those deep, dark, wonderful eyes. And he had a dazzling smile. Beautiful, bright white teeth, perfect in every way. Ian struggled to stay focused. This guy was giving his resolve a real run for its money. His self-imposed “hands off the clients” rule faced its most challenging test yet.
“You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to have the yard done over.” Harper sat back and smiled. “To know that it’s finally going to happen is really awesome. I feel so lucky to have seen your commercial.” Harper raised his bottle and sipped, never taking his eyes off Ian.
Can we talk about lucky?
“I’m glad. It’s fun to work with someone who gets into it,” he shared, because it was fun. It’s hot fun!
Many of his past clients were only interested in going the cheapest route. Even though he was good at it, he hated designing around a skimpy budget. It sucked the fun right out of the process. “For the outline around the yard, I’d suggest you keep the existing fence,” he announced confidently.
“Really? It’s so ugly.”
This was the first time since they had sat down that Harper had questioned his concept. Ian was ready with his response. “Well, it won’t be when we get done hiding it with clusters of shrubs.”
Ian opened a magazine and pointed out several specimens he had in mind. “I like to do clusters of several dif
ferent varieties as opposed to a straight line of one variety like you often see. Also there should be several openings in the border where you can see to the street. This design will show you where I propose to put the openings. By putting the openings here…”
Ian turned his design around so Harper could view it from his angle, and in the process, their hands touched. He reached for his beer.
I wonder if this guy has any idea at all what he’s doing to me. This is nuts. I’m so not in control.
“…by putting the openings here,” he continued after making sure his beer was headed down his throat, “your seating area, the arbor area will be hidden from the street, giving you privacy. People would have to leave the sidewalk and walk up the incline to peer over in your direction. You, on the other hand, can walk over to the openings and see down the street if you want. Is this enough privacy?”
Again their eyes locked. Harper grinned.
“What?” He chuckled out of nervousness.
“It’s perfect. I’m very happy.” Harper leaned across the table and asked, “Can I talk you into another beer?”
Can I make it through another beer? I’m turning into putty.
“Come on, one more?” Harper leaned in even closer.
The combination of his twinkling eyes and megawatt smile was impossible for Ian to resist. “Sure!” He tried to identify the vibe coming from Harper. “There’re a few more things we should cover.”
Ian sat mesmerized as Harper collected their bottles and sauntered past on the way to the kitchen. He was becoming aroused, and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it. He forced himself to try and stay on track. Shifting through his notes, he reviewed the aspects of the backyard design he’d yet to cover.
“Did you have time yet to think about a water feature?” Harper asked, this time sitting at the head of the table, close enough that his bare leg brushed for a brief second up against Ian’s.
Ian belted back a healthy swig from his new beer. Unless he was mistaken, and by this time he was pretty sure he wasn’t, Harper was coming on to him. And if it wasn’t that, it sure as hell was something.
