“I’ll leave the brochure, do some measurements, give you an estimate. So, let’s stick with the front for now.”

She talked about planting stuff along his drive—who’d have thought of that? Of finishing off his veranda with big concrete urns, chairs, a table, with stuff planted along the front.

He found himself doing just what Emily had warned him of. Nodding. Nodding even when they worked their way around the side, and there was talk of massing hydrangeas, peonies, lilies.

It was the waterfall that broke his trance.

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“I’m not talking Niagara. This house was built into the mountain, so it’s already got the rise and fall and drop. Look here, Walker, this area’s begging for a long, winding water feature. Natural stone, water tumbling down from the top grade, then meandering. We do plantings along that edge, sweeping them back into the trees. You put a stone bench here, some fragrant shrubs, do a loose stone walk, some pretty lights, mulch it, and you’d find yourself sitting here enjoying an adult beverage, the sound of the water, the view, the scents every single day.”

Her hands moved as she spoke. Strong, ringless hands with long fingers, short unpolished nails. How did they manage to paint pictures in the air?

“But … a waterfall.”

“Think of it as more of a spill,” she suggested. “It would be a great use of this underused space. We’d maintain the pump. You’d just enjoy it. Otherwise—it wouldn’t be my choice, but an option. Do you play golf?”

“No.”

“A lawyer who doesn’t play golf? I was thinking cute little putting green, but scratch that. Not a sports guy?”

“I used to play baseball.”

“Hey, me, too. I love baseball.”

It shifted his mind from waterfalls. “What’s your team?”

Her look held pity. “Zane, I’m from Baltimore. I was born an O’s fan, I live as an O’s fan, and I’ll die an O’s fan.”

He found himself smiling. “Me, too.”

“Really?” She shifted away from landscape talk, hooked the thumbs of those interesting hands in her belt loops. “You ever get to Camden Yards?”

“A few times.”

She sighed a little. “I wanted to live there.”

It came out of his mouth before he censored himself. “I wanted to play there.” It still brought a tug, one he made himself ignore.

“What position?”

“Short.”

“Hey, second base here.” She offered her fist to bump. “The town’s got a league, but spring and summer are my high seasons, so no go for me. Are you playing?”

“No.”

Something in the single syllable warned her to back off. “Well, I’m hoping to catch a couple innings of Gabe’s game on Saturday. So I’m going to draw you up what I have in mind, give you a better picture. Meanwhile.”

She talked about doing raised beds for herbs, for annuals, more shrubs, another wall to mirror the one in front.

He lost track.

“Now that I’ve given you a whole bunch to think about, I’m going to get some measurements. And I’ll bring you some brochures to look through.”

“Great. Need any help?”

“I’ve got it.”

She walked back around to her truck, and Zane, more than slightly shell-shocked, went in the back through the kitchen.

He opened a beer, thought he should’ve offered her a beer. Decided he needed to recover from her first.

She smelled of earth and growing things, had strong, competent hands that drew pictures in the air. She painted them with words, too, so he could get a misty, mystical image of what she saw in her head.

But that didn’t mean he’d fall for it.

The walls, those he could see. Safety mattered, and he hoped Audra would spend plenty of time visiting her uncle. And he liked the idea of the lights glowing on the stone, so good.

Maybe some of the plantings—some of them. But the waterfall? That was ridiculous.

Even as he thought it, he walked over to the big window of the great room, looked at the space she’d imagined the ridiculous waterfall.

No. Absolutely not. No. But … maybe he’d think about it.

She had a point about needing tables and chairs and so on outside. The veranda, the decks, the back patio with its pretty awesome built-in, big-ass grill—that all needed seating to make it a real outdoor living space.

So, okay, she had a point there.

He could grill—Lee had seen to that—and he wanted to have the family up for a cookout. So tables, chairs all around.

With his beer and his laptop, he sat at the big breakfast counter, began to see what the internet had to offer on outdoor furniture.

He left the glass wall accordioned open, and had earmarked a few choices by the time Darby tapped a finger on a panel.

“Come on in. Want a beer?”

“God, yes, but I’m driving. Half a beer?”

“Half a beer.”

As he got up to pour her half a beer, she wandered in, circled the enormous kitchen. She admired the cabinetry, dark and rich, some with glass fronts, the acres and acres of counter in granite that flowed with sweeps of dull gold, rich browns, hints of woodsy green, bits of mica.

It had everything—the under-counter wine cooler and ice machine. The dishwasher drawers, a professional eight-burner range top with fancy hood, double wall ovens.

Plus, she knew from her lookie-loo tour, it boasted a butler’s pantry with another dishwasher, a fridge, a big sink, more counters, more cabinets. And a storage pantry big enough to camp in.

“This kitchen almost makes me want to learn to cook—really cook.”

“I’m happy to say it hasn’t pulled me there.” Zane handed her the beer. “Which is why I said a bed of herbs doesn’t make sense.”

“Herbs always make sense.” She tapped her glass to his bottle, sipped, sighed. Then handed him brochures. “One of those is mine, just informal for now, but some of the work I’ve done may show you what I have in mind here. I’m still working on the web page, but it’s up. Such as it is.”

“If you want help with that, you should contact The Computer Guy.”

“That’s Micah Carter, right? He’s been recommended.”

“My oldest pal, and despite that, I can honestly say he’s the best.” Curious, he flipped a brochure open to one of her tags, saw stone walls in tones that reminded him of his kitchen counters, saw the night shots with those clever little lights glowing.

“Okay, wow.”

“Right? You could have that.”

“This is—what do you call it—terraced. You know, a couple of levels, with stone steps.”

“You could have that, too, minus the steps. No reason for them. The terraced wall’s not only doable, but I’d recommend it.”

“You didn’t mention that before.”

She smiled over her beer. “Didn’t want to scare you.”

He looked up at her, deep green eyes full of cynicism. “You talk waterfalls, but don’t want to scare me?”

“I’d lulled you a little by then. I’d recommend the two levels for aesthetics and more stability.”