Page 33 of Big Britches

“Brilliant too. I’ve read his short stories, but that was his first novel. What’s this?” Barb reached for Pedro’s shopping bag. “The Squire Shop? Fancy.”

“I went to Walmart first, but everything they had was over-sized and baggy.”

Barb held up a square-cut swimsuit, beige, black, and white plaid with a thin mock belt attached, also white. “It’s cute. Very fashionable. I’m sure Mildred Perkins charged you a pretty penny for it.”

“More than I wanted to pay.”

Barb was holding the suit up, her face blocked from Pedro’s view by it. She lowered it, eyebrows raised. “You’re home early with an expensive swimsuit. What are you not telling me?”

Pedro knew the questions would come—was, in fact, anticipating them. Even though he and Barb’s relationship had begun as tenant and landlord, over the past two years their mutual interests and proximity had evolved into a cherished friendship. He would have a hard time keeping anything from her. They shared coffee, meals, a love for books, and even solitude together. But unlike himself, Barb was from Spoon. She’d lived her whole life here. She knew its people well, including one Titus Shepard.

Titus had said they were practically siblings.

He had been wrestling all afternoon with how he was going to break his news to her and settled for, “I think I have a date.”

He told her everything. Well, almost everything. He left out the part about Titus’s transparent trunks and his own Jennifer Beals-esque burlesque show.

Pedro explained how Silas had reassigned him to the Shepherd account. He told her of their awkward initial encounter, and the inexplicable, yet undeniable chemistry that had sparked between them. By the time he finished up with their hand-holding lunch, Pedro felt winded. What was mere minutes had felt like hours and, though he was relieved to get everything off of his chest, he also felt horrible pangs of guilt for having betrayed Titus’s trust.

Through it all, Barb had said nothing, only offering conversational gestures–acknowledging nods, head tilts, and the occasional pursed lip. When he finished, she said nothing. Instead, she rose, crossing back to the coffeemaker and pouring herself a cup.

“Dios mio,” Pedro said with a heavy sigh. “I’ve said too much. I shouldn’t have told you.”

“No.” She turned back to him, holding the cup high, blowing on it lightly. “I’m glad you did. I’m just… taking it all in.”

“I’m an idiot. I’m not going. I shouldn’t have wasted money on that stupid swimsuit.”

Barb returned to her seat at the table. She set the cup down and reached for his hand. “Just breathe. It’s not what you're thinking.”

“Exactly. That’s what I mean. I’m imagining things. There’s no way a man like Titus Shepherd would be interested in me.”

“Why not?”

“Are you kidding? He’s blue blood. I’m blue collar. He’s rich, his father’s mayor. I’m just a landscaper. I’m nowhere near the caliber of man he would want.”

“I disagree, and I know him better than you.”

“Yeah? Well, that stunned reaction you just gave me is not very convincing.”

“I’m sorry. You’re right. I was stunned. But that’s what you’re misinterpreting. I’m angry at myself for not having introduced you to him sooner.”

“Really? You’re not yanking my chain, are you?”

Barb chuckled. “You and your idioms. I’m not a particular fan of that one–for obvious reasons–but no, I’m serious. I’ve nagged Titus for quite a while about getting out and meeting someone and, now that you’ve brought all this up, I can’t think of anyone I approve of more than you. You may not have a lot in common—he didn’t do well at all in school—but it sounds like he’s definitely taken a fancy to you. How do you feel about him?”

“I—” Pedro recalled his lunch with Titus, the man’s sweet disposition and playfulness with the children. He was such a contradiction—a gentle giant, both strong and sensitive, with an irresistible smile and amber eyes so warm Pedro had felt lost in them. Words wouldn’t come. He broke eye contact with Barb, blushing.

“Never mind.”

“I told him I lived here in Hawthorne House.”

“And he told you that he and I go way back, I presume.”

Pedro nodded.

“I’m afraid I’ve not been a good friend to Titus lately. These past two years I’ve been obsessed with trying to turn this albatross–” She raised her hands, gesturing to their surroundings. “–into a swan. Titus is not without blame, though. Ever since Violet died, he withdrew from everything and everyone. He did manage to keep Roz in his life, but I guess I drifted.”

“The more I think about it, the more it sounds like Rebecca,” Pedro said. “It’s a little unnerving.”

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