Beneath the Palisade (4 page)

“Burke Landscaping, right?” asked a masculine voice.

Ian couldn’t be sure, but it was entirely possible he gasped when the handsome face appeared from around the door. Deep, dark eyes, short black hair, the chiseled chin—he stood only a few feet from one of the most attractive men he’d ever come in contact with.

“You’re the guy from Burke Landscaping, right?”

“Ah… yeah, I’m Ian Burke.”

“I thought so. You said you’d be coming from practice, so… well, the uniform, I just figured you were the guy. I’m Harper, Harper Callahan.” The handsome man stepped further onto the stoop, extending his hand, letting the screen door shut behind him. “Thanks for stopping by tonight.”

Ian shook hands. “Right. I mentioned I’d be coming over from baseball.” Ian was careful not to give any visible sign the man’s firm grip had left him weak.
Landing on my knees right now would so send the wrong message.

“Why don’t you follow the walk around to the back. I’ll throw some shoes on and meet you there.”

“Great!” Ian knew it was best to let the goofy smile on his face blossom and fade away on its own. Any attempt to harness it would only risk an unexpected resurfacing.

This guy is gorgeous!

He fought off an urge to give Andy a quick call to share his good fortune.

Wait, I know. I’ll find the right moment and snap a shot of him with my phone.

He walked along the side of the house to the backyard. He was stopped by a closed gate. Pushing the latch up, he was careful to close it once he had entered. Not bad, he thought as he glanced around the yard. The dated chain-link fence could either be removed or hidden with shrubs, depending on what Harper—
Awesome name!
—had in mind. He stepped further into the yard. It was a nice big space with very little existing landscaping. He and Andy called these spaces “clean slates” because they required very little to remove before planting. Some of the homes in this area had jungles that had to be yanked out first. They were a real pain in the ass.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Harper said, stepping out of the back door. Dressed in loose-fitting sweatpants and sweatshirt, the handsome prospective client bounded down the steps to join him.

“Hey, that was you in your commercial. Nice job! Have you gotten much business from it?” Harper sounded impressed.

“Well, it’s only been running for a few weeks. I’ve had some calls. Hopefully as the season progresses, I’ll have more.” He still couldn’t believe he had his very own commercial.

“Terrific! Ian… Ian, now you have to be honest with me when we talk about the landscaping design. I’ve got some ideas, but I don’t know squat about this stuff. Promise you’ll pipe up and steer me clear of a disaster?” Harper led the tour around the yard.

This is off to a good start. He wants to know what I think.

“Sure. You’re lucky. You have a clean slate to work with back here. Why don’t you let me know what you’ve been thinking about.” Ian reached down into his pocket to make sure he had his phone. If nothing else came of tonight’s meeting, he was leaving with a picture. A keepsake.

“Well, I’ve lived here for three years now. The people before me had a large dog they kept back here, and as you can see, the grass has never recovered.” Harper stood in the center of an area of compacted dirt. “I’d like to start with a patio. Maybe a patio with an arbor or some type of structure over it? Vines, would that work?” Harper placed his hands on his hips, drawing Ian’s attention to the ample bulge in his sweats.

“You mean vines covering an arbor?” Ian needed to be sure he was tracking.

“Stupid idea?” Harper winced.

“Not at all. There’re several varieties that are fast growing. I can contract out for the arbor construction, that’s no problem. Before we get too far along, did you have a budget in mind?” He wanted to make sure the client didn’t get worked up over an idea he wouldn’t be able to afford. It happened all the time, and to backtrack away from it was never easy.

“You mean I have to pay for this?” Harper feigned amazement, wiping an imaginary band of sweat from his forehead.

I’m sure we could work something out. Positive, in fact.

“Sucks, doesn’t it?” Ian fought off a brief urge to jump his devastatingly handsome new client.

Did you just say sucks, doesn’t it? Sucks? Sucks, Ian? Get a grip. This is business.

“I hadn’t thought about a budget, to be honest. Can we just shoot for the moon, and then if I have to, scale the design down if it gets to be too costly?” Harper returned his hands to his hips and strolled over to the side of the yard facing the street, treating Ian to a marvelous butt shot.

“You bet!” Ian gave the yard another once-over.

“What team do you play for?” Harper turned suddenly to face him.

“Excuse me?”
Don’t go there, Ian. Oh, buddy, you don’t want to do that!
He fought for control. “I play for the Hornets… in a city league.” When he felt it was safe, he glanced up at Harper to make sure he’d interpreted his question correctly.
Never give up hope!
He had. “Do you play?”

“Not since Little League, and I don’t see it happening anytime soon. I love watching baseball. I have it on in the background a lot when I’m working.” Harper reached down and plucked out an early weed.

“Well, if you’re ever interested in watching, we play at Beecher Fields. They’re just south of the lakes. Regular games are on Wednesday nights. Usually we start about six thirty.”
Or we can play catch back here. You know, just you and I.

“Hey, thanks, I might have to check you guys out.” Harper tossed the weed over his shoulder.

Okay, that’s enough of the chitchat. Back to business.

“What else did you have in mind back here?”

“I was thinking….” Harper strolled across the yard to the far corner.

Get the phone out. This is the perfect time to take a shot.

“Can we talk water feature?” Harper turned to face him.

Snap!

“
W
HAT
the hell is this?” Andy asked, staring at the phone. “Is it part of a shoe?”

“I know. I’m so bummed. I thought I was holding it at the perfect angle, but it turns out I wasn’t. You won’t believe this guy, Andy. I wanted you to see for yourself. He’s serious hot. A little taller than I am, say five eleven and maybe 175 pounds. He’s our age, late twenties, thirty tops. Great shape. Well, he had on sweats so I couldn’t tell for sure.” Ian was surprised he was getting so carried away, but he was talking to Andy, who was used to it. “But his face, man, his face is so incredible. Chiseled chin, nice five o’clock shadow going on, deep black eyes and jet black hair. I’m not kidding you! The man is hot!”

“Maybe you should contract this job out.” Andy could suck the fun right out of one of his moments of unbridled lust faster than anyone.

“Shut up! He’s some kind of professional, I think. Doctor or lawyer, maybe. You know the type, they screw you if it’s convenient for them but can’t be seen in public with you because we’re from the wrong side of the tracks. We’re beneath them, but not in a good way. And besides, I’m pretty sure he’s straight. I didn’t pick up on any of the typical vibes.” He exhaled and forced himself to slow down, realizing he was borderline out of control.

“You mean his doorbell didn’t have a ‘Hello Dolly’ ring tone?” Andy asked dryly.

“You’re jealous or something,” Ian barked back.

“Whatever. Any idea what product you’ll use?” Andy attempted to right the ship.

Reluctant to get down to business, Ian went over the notes he’d thrown together at Denny’s earlier that morning while wolfing down a Grand Slam. “I’m going over later to have another look around and—” He couldn’t suppress a giggle. “—take some more pictures. I should know more after today.”

“Bring a camera this time, Spanky.” Andy slapped him on the back.

Spanky—Ian wished he could wipe away history and be done with that awful memory once and for all. Neither Andy nor Spencer would let it die. Spanky was a nickname that surfaced from time to time, usually in connection with a stupid move he’d made. The name dated back to the first year he and Andy had been living in the city. It was his twenty-third birthday, and to celebrate, Andy and a few buddies took him out for a night of bar hopping.
How could I have been so stupid?
Toward the end of the evening, he found himself in the arms of a hot leather daddy. Kisses led to serious fondling, which in turn led to him being tied to a bed at daddy’s house, scared out of his wits while daddy spanked his bare ass with a riding crop. He’d been branded with “Spanky” from that day forward.

“What are you going to do first? I’m thinking you’d be better off getting the digging done for the patio and the arbor up before you start planting. What product I don’t already have, I can special order to arrive by the end of next week. When are you starting?” Andy looked over at the nude fireman posed seductively on the charity calendar he’d received as a birthday gift.

“I told him I’d be over in the morning to kick things off. Once I have a good idea of what will work, I’ll do a plan for Harper. I love that name. Isn’t it cool? Harper?”

“Beats the hell out of Walt.” It was obvious by the way he lingered at the wall that Andy hadn’t taken time out of his busy schedule to enjoy this month’s hottie.

“I called Arlan Stemple. He’s agreed to take care of the excavation part. I found a design on the web for an arbor I think Harper will like, and if approved, I’ll have Prairie Planks throw it together. I talked to Earl earlier in the week, and he said they were still slow.”

He was proud of himself. This was one of the bigger jobs he’d landed, and it all seemed to be lining up nicely. Since the commercial had run, he’d gotten two other calls. One from some drunk lady who had more than landscaping on her mind, and the other a retired couple who wanted help planting a perennial garden. He jotted down a note to call the couple. The world didn’t revolve around Harper Callahan, he reminded himself. He needed to give all of his clients the red carpet treatment. Word of mouth from a successful job was, as Andy had put it, wagging a mud-stained finger in his face, “the cheapest and the most effective advertising there is.”

H
ARPER
stepped from the shower into his bedroom. The suit he had planned to wear along with a shirt and tie was hanging on a hook in back of the closet door. He’d gotten into a habit of picking out his clothes the night before to shorten up his morning ritual. If you were coming off a night of very little sleep, having your clothes ready to roll was a huge benefit. Throwing his towel on the bed, he stepped into black boxer briefs. A white T-shirt came next. He’d been taught never to wear a dress shirt without a T-shirt underneath. The T-shirt always made the shirt look so much better, even in the middle of summer when the days were scorchers. Pants, belt, socks, and shoes followed before he threw on his suit coat and headed down the stairs. A noise outside the kitchen window startled him. Looking out, he spotted Ian from Burke Landscaping marking off areas in the yard with twine.

Pouring a cup of coffee, he leaned over the counter and watched Ian march up and down the yard.
We have to be about the same age.
God, I love that crazy mop of hair. It looks like a rooster’s.
He was dressed in khaki shorts, a hooded sweatshirt, and work boots, a look he had always envied, on some guys that is. Very few could pull it off, but Ian of Burke Landscaping was a man who could—and then some. As natural as a suit felt on Harper, the khaki shorts and sweatshirt looked to be the right choice for Ian. And those legs, those hot, hot legs. Strong, bulging calves curved up to a nice tight butt. His waist was slender but not skinny. Shoulders were well developed, and although he hadn’t had the opportunity to see his arms in a T-shirt yet, he was sure they were muscled, finishing off the hot workman look he seemed to own. The images he’d already collected of Ian in his baseball uniform brought about a familiar tingle, his body’s way of communicating approval.

Glancing at his watch, he knew he had to shut down his spy mission, but not before he stepped into the backyard to say hello.

“Ian, you’re at it early,” he greeted, stepping out into a gorgeous spring morning.

“Hey! Good morning. Wow, suit and tie. Looks good!” Ian flashed a thumbs-up.

Not as good as you look in those shorts. Damn! Oh, and by the way, has anyone ever mentioned to you that you own the word adorable too?

“Thanks! So, what’s happening today?” Harper forced himself to survey the yard.

The landscaper detailed what he had planned, but Harper hardly heard a word. Everything about this guy standing in his yard fascinated him. The slow, relaxed lilt to his voice and how it contrasted with his abundant energy. The purposeful, athletic way in which he moved. His warm, engaging smile. Harper tried to focus but couldn’t to save his soul.
Am I getting hard? Seriously?
“I am!” he cried out.

“What?” Ian asked, taking a few steps forward.

“Oh… I am… I am thinking this backyard is going to turn out great!” He felt his face flush.

“You have a perfect yard to work with. I should have sketches over to you in the next day or two.” Ian looked over to see if he approved.

“Terrific! I can’t wait, and when it’s all said and done, you’ll have to join me out here for beers to celebrate.” He needed to retreat so he could regain his composure. He couldn’t recall ever being this rattled by anyone.

Beers to celebrate? Oh, Harp, my boy, your opening statement needs more work than you thought. That was soooo lame.

“Sounds great! I should mention, some nights we might work a little later than others. I’m not sure I’ll be here, but one or two of my helpers could be. I wanted to let you know if you come home and there’re strangers in your yard. I’ve worked with these guys plenty of times, and you have no worries.” Ian tossed the ball of twine in his hand.

“Oh, thanks! Do what you have to do. So, you have everything you need, then?”
Retreat now before you really screw this up.