by A. E. Via
“Hey Bishop.” Edison came outside and stood barefoot on the porch with a shy, but pleasant smile. He’d changed out of the fancy suit and into some linen lounge pants and a bright white T-shirt that hugged his middle. “I thought I heard your truck. So you’re already checking out my yard, huh?”
Bishop had to tear his eyes away from that soft-looking body when Edison walked down the couple of steps and across the yard to where he stood. For some reason it put him in the mind of Chris Pratt when he was on his first job with Parks & Rec. No one remembered that old show or that he was even a star in it. Everyone knew and loved the ripped and buff Jurassic Park Chris, but Bishop thought that goofy, fun-to-love, plump man was fucking amazing too, if not more so.
“Gosh, it’s not that bad is it?” Edison laughed nervously when Bishop stood there like a confused fool.
Shit, his dad had been right. It was gonna be damn near impossible to not mix the two. Already he’d forgotten the business he’d been there to tend to in the first place because of the sheer pleasure of seeing Edison like this—relaxed at his home. Bishop finally turned away, shaking his head. “Sorry. No. I was just… it’s not bad… um…” Now he couldn’t even talk. This was a way to prove his worth and now he couldn’t remember a single thing about landscaping.
Edison smiled while he rubbed his hand over his smooth jaw, again, snatching Bishop’s attention. He remembered what that cheek felt like, no matter how quick the contact had been, and he wanted more of it, so he had to get his shit together. He was typically smoother than this when talking with a guy, but, Edison was different.
“Sorry.” Bishop put a little distance between them and gestured towards the grass. “Do you cut your yard? It’s being cut really low, and it’s too hot for that. That’s why your grass is burning and dying.”
“No. I’m at work all day and when I get home the last thing I wanna do is push a lawnmower.” Edison’s eyes widened as he realized what he’d just said. “Not… not that anything is wrong with that job. I just don’t wanna do it.” Edison slapped his forehead and sputtered again, “No, no. Not like that. Like its… I mean, it’s a workout and—”
“Hey. I know what you mean. Relax.” Bishop couldn’t help the quirk of his lips, Edison actually thought he was insulting him. Bishop widened his stance and took his own advice and chilled-the-hell-out. Edison was funny. He had a way of making Bishop feel okay and less foolish, and he found himself wanting to do that for Edison too. “People hire lawn services because, yeah, they don’t want to do it themselves. That’s not a bad thing. It’s why I have a job.”
Edison just nodded, glancing up every so often to meet his eyes. Bishop wished he wouldn’t turn away because Edison’s eyes were beautiful. Light and dark browns, and even golds were all there, but nothing shone brighter than Edison’s genuine politeness. God, he’s so…
“To answer your question. A kid up the street comes by and does a few of the houses for people who don’t have the time to. He’s like in middle school, so I suppose he does it for roller rink or ice-cream money.
Bishop’s laugh escaped him so fast that it not only surprised Edison, but it shocked the hell out of him too. Did he just say roller rink? Damn, how old is he? After being locked away all those years Bishop thought he’d been the one out of touch with what was important to kids today, but he believed Edison had him beat. Bishop was certain that most teens were in their houses on their video games, playing online with people in other countries. The guy probably needed the money for his PlayStation store app.
“Don’t laugh. If he’s butchering my yard then obviously, I need some help. I just had the house power-washed last month and parts of the exterior repainted. But, this yard...” Edison continued to caress his jaw, and Bishop was jealous. “I don’t wanna be the worst lawn on the street anymore, ya know.”
Bishop was feeling a lot more confident. “I get it.” He pointed at the flower bed. “So, what’d you have in mind for this?”
“Um. My pop had started it when he was… when he was here. But never got around to doing it, with him busy running his shop and all…” Edison trailed off, his voice going softer. He blinked a couple of times before continuing, “I really have no clue what would work in this yard. I just want something nice and simple in the front. Easy to maintain.”
“Sure,” Bishop said, wondering what had happened to Edison’s father. He took out his cellphone and took a few pictures so he could make some sketches. “I can think of something.”
“Great. Because this wouldn’t be the hardest part. You up for a challenge?” Edison asked teasingly, and Bishop found himself liking it. “The real mess is in the backyard. Come on. I need to get my boots to go back there.”
Bishop chuckled, letting it trail off slowly as he gazed down at Edison. “I’m always up for a challenge.”
Edison’s eyes got big before he checked his expression… but it’d been too late. Bishop noticed how much he’d liked the tone of his suggestion. It was obvious Edison was attracted to him and had no clue on how to act on it, as if he was still sizing Bishop up. He’d thought he’d made it pretty clear that he was indeed gay, but he had so many fucking hurdles to clear before he could even begin to think they could go out as something other than business associates.
“O-okay. Come on inside. There’s access to the backyard from the front but I don’t think the gate will open with the grass so high.” Edison turned and walked towards his porch, pulling at his shirt tail. He wondered if Edison knew he was checking out his ass.
Chapter Sixteen
Bishop
The moment Bishop stepped inside Edison’s home, he loved it. He should’ve known his house would be alluring and comfortable, just like the man. The one level home wasn’t huge, but the semi-open floor plan was a great idea. He also liked that it wasn’t all quiet and clinical, with only black and white furniture and unicolor pictures of black roses. Or full of sleek chrome appliances, and over-priced electronics. Instead, it was clean and decorated with colorful paintings and masculine art. Bishop was able to take most of it in as he followed Edison through the living room that had one dark blue, oversized sectional sitting atop a checkered cream and gray area rug. He had an old-school oak wall unit on the one wall separating the baths and bedrooms, complete with a moderate fifty-inch television, turntable stereo system and lots of DVDs, CDs, and… were those VHS tapes?
The dining area was neatly decorated with a table set that looked more like a curved restaurant booth with a bench on the opposite side. In the center was a bowl of fruit and on the end was a still-steaming mug and a laptop. The television was off but smooth jazz played from the stereo speakers.
“Hope I’m not interrupting.” Bishop glanced around.
“No. I’d just finished dinner and was working on some cases to kill time until you got here.”
Bishop had noticed the heavenly smell immediately when he’d walked in. Like seared meat, but there was also a honeyed scent in the air that made his stomach growl even though he’d just eaten. Then he thought of Edison eating alone. “It smells good, Edison. What’d you have?”
Edison whirled around before he got to the patio doors that were just off the kitchen. Edison’s really nice kitchen. Again, it wasn’t what he’d expected, but so glad that it wasn’t. The counters were a cool dark and light brown marble. The cabinets were cherry wood and most of the appliances appeared outdated and well-used. Everything was nice and clean and back in its proper place, but it was obvious Edison was just in there. Bishop loved it. It looked like the kitchen he’d dreamed his mom would’ve had if she’d kept him. The life that most other kids had. She’d be in there all the time, at the island, prepping their dinner or maybe making him a school lunch. His father would come in from his legit job as a mailman, or a garbage truck driver and they’d play catch out front until his mom called them in for supper. Yeah, that’d been the stupid shit he’d dreamed about when he’d been in juvie.
Edison’s bright eyes d
anced as he moved away from the door and into the kitchen. He flicked a switch that made the space twice as bright.
“Wow.”
Edison laughed that sweet laugh. “I like to be able to see.”
Bishop watched him move around the space with ease. Watched his sexy body move beneath those thin pants. He licked his lips, feeling so damn hungry, but not for what was in Edison’s oven. He had to stop asking personal questions and get back to business.
“I made a pot roast and wild rice for dinner, but these are probably what smell so good. Edison opened a drawer and pulled out a green oven mitt and slid it onto his hand. Bishop leaned on the island, intrigued, waiting to see what Edison was reaching for in that large box that resembled another mini oven on top of the counter.
“I was bored so I made some honey oatmeal cookies.” Edison set the warm sheet on the counter. “They’re still cooling. Should be ready soon.”
“Wow.” Bishop came around the wide surface and stood as close as he dared. He liked their height difference, enjoyed when Edison had to lift his head to see him. He wasn’t short by any means; Bishop was just tall as hell. “You said you liked to cook, but I didn’t know you meant like this. It smells like a gourmet bakery in here, handsome.”
Edison smiled, his soft cheeks pinking. “Well what’d you think I meant?”
Bishop foolishly kept talking, needing to see more of that reaction. Wanting Edison to eat up his every word and compliment. “I thought you meant that you made a good grilled cheese and Campbell’s soup, or a non-mushy Hamburger Helper, something like that. But these smell really good.” Bishop said as he inched closer, realizing that the honey cookies weren’t the only thing smelling delicious.
Edison waved him off as if it were nothing, but Bishop could see what his words were doing, and he thanked the lord again for his people-reading skills. Edison tilted his head back a bit to meet his eyes, and when he did Bishop made sure to hold him there. Edison swallowed a couple of times before he said breathily, “You’ll have to try some.”
“I’d love to.” Bishop answered without thought. His mouth was moving faster than his brain. All he wanted was for this unique man to keep staring at him as if he was the king of the universe… until he found out who he really was.
“Good.” Edison looked away, his chuckle lacking all humor. “I sure don’t need to have them here as a temptation. Big as I am.”
“Mmmm.” Bishop nodded slowly then began to take in Edison’s thick build and beauty. Letting his eyes roam, since Edison had made a point to bring it to his attention. He didn’t believe Edison was fishing for a compliment, no, by the unsure, almost uncomfortable expression, he seemed as if he wanted to know how Bishop felt about his weight. Was this man insane? How could he not see how sexy he was? With his kind spirit, those radiant eyes, super-soft skin, his distinctively calming voice, and those fucking sharp-ass suits covering a body that was no doubt warm and satisfying. Bishop had been confined with men with rock hard, jacked-up chests, granite thighs, and washboard stomachs for years. Now gazing down at Edison’s softness made him want all that supple flesh. Bishop cleared his throat before he dared speak, but his voice was still raw. “Yeah, well, I don’t mind a man with little meat on his bones.”
~
Edison
Hot dang. That’s one thing Edison had for sure, some meat on him. Bishop hadn’t known him two years ago, and he was happy about that. He was glad he liked the man who stood in front of him now. A man who, while young in actual age, had more control and discipline than most forty-year olds. Not only in his personal life, but in business as well.
Edison couldn’t stop what Bishop’s words were doing to him. He’d been half hard ever since he’d first spotted Bishop kneeling in his yard, but now his shorts were a lot tighter. He wondered if Bishop even knew the effect he was having on him. Did he have any clue how hot he was? And intimidating. So broad, and muscular and tall. No doubt he got his shape from years of hard, manual labor.
Now, Bishop was all up in his house, smelling freshly showered, and wearing shorts and construction boots. Taking up so much space in his modest kitchen. And complimenting him and his food. These were things he’d wanted for a long time. But he didn’t want to get his hopes up and start acting like some inexperienced boy with his first big crush.
Maybe Bishop was still pitying him from the other night. Or maybe he was a damn good businessman and knew how to read another’s weakness, hone in on it and use it to his benefit—in this case to get a new contract. Edison quickly dismissed that thought. He’d been the one to solicit Bishop’s private services. If anyone had a hidden agenda… it was him.
His body began to vibrate at the sound of Bishop’s voice. It’d gone from gravelly to sensual the longer he stared at him. And the man really had no problem staring. Bishop had eyes so dark he didn’t know what color they were. Deep brown, brown-black? Chestnut? They were hard to stare at and impossible to look away from. Bishop was his fantasy of the best kind of bad boy. Not in actuality, only in appearance, because Bishop was a successful business owner, a boss, a man’s man.
“Why don’t you let me check out this neglected backyard you have,” Bishop rumbled finally.
Edison flushed, his heart racing. Oh god, it’s so neglected. He sucked in a gulp of air, blinking trying to clear the fog from his brain. “My what?”
Bishop narrowed his eyes as a slow, sly smirk tilted one side of his mouth. It felt as if Bishop could see right through him sometimes. Man, he hoped not.
“Your yard, Edison.”
Edison shook his head, feeling his face heat. “Right, right. Yeah, my… outside… the yard. Um, this way.” He led them to the glass patio doors and pushed the vertical blinds to the side. He flicked on the outside lights, although there was still some lingering daylight at almost eight. He stepped aside so Bishop could walk ahead of him, because even with his rain boots on, he didn’t venture farther than the porch. He laughed when he noticed the horrified expression on Bishop’s face. “I tried to warn you.”
“Yeah, you did. But everyone says their yard is a mess.” Bishop turned to face him, “you meant it.”
Edison rolled his eyes, picking up on Bishop’s teasing. “I’m really no good with yard work. It’s exhausting. People only see the front yard anyway, so I’ve just focused on that.”
“Focused?”
Edison waved, “You know what I mean.”
“The hell I do.” Bishop trudged farther into his jungle of a yard. The space wasn’t massive, but it was a decent enough size not to let grow into a small rainforest. “What do you want me to do to it? I can’t really see much without getting this grass down, so I can check out your foundation. It’s at least four feet of overgrowth out here. Do you have an irrigation system?”
“That’s a firm no,” Edison said from the door.
Bishop stood in the middle of the thigh-high grass and waved him over. “C’mere. Why are you way over there hollering at me?”
He knew he was blushing again. He liked when Bishop gave him that kind of talk and attention. “I’m not yelling. And I’m fine on the porch. I only come out here to use my grill, and even then, I think there’s something out there watching me.”
“It’s fine, Edison. You can walk over since you’re already wearing protective gear. But I’ll save you if anything jumps out.” Bishop smirked. “Like a grasshopper or a frog. Because it’s most likely all that’s out here.”
“Or…” Edison leaned against the door frame. “I can just wait here.”
“How do you get to your shed?” Bishop asked, pointing at the small shelter at the end of his yard.
“I don’t. Besides, there’s nothing in there. My little bit of lawn equipment is in the garage.”
“Okay, then.” Bishop looked as if he was barely holding back his ridicule. “I will say that the grass—while going crazy—is healthy. I can cut some patterns into it. That weeping willow tree back there gives you a lot of shade, which lea
ves us open to a lot of options as far as fall foliage and greenery. You got room for a pathway to your shed if you ever think you want to use it.”
He was entranced listening to Bishop while he was in his element. He didn’t see what Bishop saw as he turned in a circle taking in every inch of the space, his eyes getting wider and just a hint brighter as if the yard was transforming right before him. It was inspiring, and Edison wished he could envisage it too, but he couldn’t—all he saw was a major eyesore. He actually wanted to get back inside.
“I already got some ideas. I’m gonna take a few pictures.” Bishop pulled out his cell and started clicking.
“I want to invest more into the backyard than the front—I have room in the budget to make it nice—because I do like to come out here to grill. I wouldn’t mind a table and few chairs so I can sit out here on a Saturday night. Maybe a fire pit to have for the fall coming up. I read a lot and listen to audiobooks, so maybe those little outdoor speakers. Like an outdoor reading nook!” Edison’s smile fell when Bishop continued to stare blankly at him. “Doesn’t sound all that exciting, I’m sure.”
He’d run into Bishop at a bookstore, so he thought they had that in common and that it’d be a good conversation piece. But the way Bishop turned away without a word and went back to taking pictures, he began to think perhaps it wasn’t. Landscaping seemed to be the safest route if he wanted a reaction. “Do you have the time to take on this kind of project, Bishop? I know your company is busy. And this job seems to be more extensive than you thought. But, I hope you do. I wouldn’t mind being able to throw my own barbecues or something. My coworkers have them all the time… so…” Edison motioned at his house. “And honestly I’m not sure I want just anyone having access to my house.”