Beneath the Palisade (5 page)

“Yeah! We’re in good shape. Thanks!”

Ian, you don’t have any idea what you’re doing to me, do you? I’m going to have to figure out a way to tell you.

F
OR
most of the drive over to the ball field, Ian listened to Andy bitch about a local vendor who had one more chance before he told him to take his frickin’ pachysandra starters and shove them up his ass.

“I have people stopping in expecting these things to be in stock. I’m tired of covering for that lazy sack of shit. Sorry, I just had to vent.” Andy sighed and crossed his arms.

“I’m sure if you do have to send him packing, he’ll have deserved it.” He was only half listening as he pulled into the parking lot.

“How did it go today over at Dreamboat’s?” Andy stepped out of the truck.

“It went fine. Harper came out and talked to me this morning. Dressed in a suit. Why can’t I find guys to date who wear suits?” he whined. “I always get the jeans and stained T-shirt dudes. You should have seen how hot he looked.”

“You meet the suit types in college. You and I bypassed that route. Let’s go over and check Spencer’s batting order.” Andy made a beeline for their pal.

“Look what the cat dragged in—Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb.” Spencer looked up from his clipboard.

“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

I
AN
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.