She seemed to catch herself, shifted her feet. “He had an injury that took him out.”

“For the season?”

“For good, from what I know. Bad broken arm or something like that. Anyway, it’s good to see him back in Lakeview, back at the field.”

Laurie gave her order, leaving Darby to think it through.

Broken nose, father, she thought. Broken arm? The same source? Maybe. And maybe it explained why no one ever mentioned his father, or his mother, come to that.

And why he and Britt had lived with Emily and Lee.

Laurie gathered up her cardboard tray loaded with drinks, dogs, fries. “You come and see us at Best Blooms, now.”

“You know I will.”

Darby ordered the dogs, doctored them as specified. And thought of a teenage boy, star of the team, player of the year, one who’d dreamed of playing in Camden Yards.

Her heart broke a little.

She had to push it away as she carried the food up the bleachers. If he wanted her to know, he’d tell her.

She passed out the dogs, with napkins. “Down payment,” she told Zane. “We still have to negotiate your million-dollar fee.”

“Didn’t I mention that’s my hourly fee?”

“You did not. Will my LLC come gold-plated?”

“It’s the only kind I do.”

She ate her dog, stayed through the fourth inning.

“Gotta get back. Emily, be sure to take a look at reception. Good seeing you, Chief. Zane.”

Once again she worked her way down the bleachers, started toward the road.

“Hey!”

And turned back when Zane came after her.

“Where are you parked?”

She pointed, tapping her finger in the air a couple times to indicate distance.

“I’ll walk with you, stretch my legs.”

“Well, you’ve got a lot of them.”

The little guys had wrapped it up, and the next age group looked about to. Zane paused a minute, watched the center fielder misjudge a fly by about a mile and a half.

“Coach used to take us out for pizza, win or lose, after a Saturday game.”

“Good coach.”

“Yeah. So, I’ve given your staggeringly ambitious plans for what would have to be termed my estate considerable thought.”

“As you should. But I think you need more acreage, a guest house, and an infinity pool to qualify as an estate. Possibly a tennis or squash court.”

“I’m getting a freaking waterfall,” he reminded her. “I’ve given it thought, started after my admin managed to bring me out of the fugue state induced by shock, and a little awe.”

She shifted, hooked her thumbs in her front pockets. “I considered giving it to you in smaller bites, but it felt like cheating. Why don’t you tell me what’s an absolute ‘no, forget it, are you crazy,’ and I can adjust the plans and the costs?”

“Nothing.”

She stopped dead. “You don’t want any of it? It’s your place, Zane, but I have to tell you, you need, at minimum, the foundation plantings, a couple of trees. With that, I could handle the work myself and give you a better break on labor.”

“You misunderstand me, though that was exactly my first reaction. Absolutely no, forget it, she’s crazy. Then I made a couple of mistakes.”

“What kind of mistakes?” She wasn’t entirely sure where he was going, even though she started to get a little buzz under her skin.

“First? I showed the plans to some friends, my family. Big mistake there. Next, I did a little tour of the bungalows you’ve finished. I even ran into a couple of guests outside one, a couple who’ve come every spring for the last three years. Emily gets a lot of repeats.”

“Having been a guest myself, I can tell you why. Good accommodations, stunning view, exceptional and personal customer service.”

“Which is pretty much what they said. Then they added that with the work done on the outside, they liked sitting on the front porch and looking out at the yard as much as the lake. Or having a drink on the back patio after spending the day on the lake. How everything looked so nice, how it felt like—I quote—their ‘little private Eden.’”

“That’s very nice.”

“Then I still went home and thought: No, no, and no, maybe here, maybe, I’ll consider that one. I got to the game today, after thinking more, with: No and no, maybe, okay, probably. And then…”

He stopped by her truck, looked around. He could see the mountains, shining under the pure blue of the sky, the houses, green grass, painted porches, flowers planted. He could hear the game—sound carried.

He knew the ground under his feet, the taste of the air.

“Then watching the game, sitting with Emily and Lee, saying hey to people I know, who know me. Who knew me. I thought, This is it for me. This is it. That’s my house up there, this is my home, these are my people. That’s why I came back. That’s why I’m staying. That’s why, fuck it. It’s mine. And I want it all.”

“All of … this.”

“Of this,” he agreed when she gestured around her. “And all of your staggeringly ambitious plans.”

She held up a finger, turned away, walked a few steps away. “This is unexpected.”

“Are you saying you can’t do it?”

“Of course I can do it.” She spun back. “I don’t offer what I can’t deliver. I didn’t expect you to—I didn’t expect. Well, hot damn.” She came back, punched him lightly in the arm. “Hot, steaming damn. This is going to be great. You’re not going to regret it.”

“I better not. I just said yes to everything you wanted.”

She shook her head. “You wanted it, too, or you wouldn’t say yes.”

“Regardless, I said yes, and all I get’s a punch in the arm and I won’t regret it.”

“You’re right. You are completely right. You deserve better. I can do better.”

She threw her arms around his neck—that was unexpected—and did much better with a long, hard kiss, one she put a little punch into.

Enough of a punch to rock him back on his heels, to have his hands gripping her hips before he could stop them.

Then she pulled back, grinned at him. “There now. I’ve got to get back to work—and stop to buy subs for the crew on the way. But I’ll be in touch.”

He held on just another moment. “You are hot.”

She laughed, kissed him again—light and friendly this time. “Told ya.”

She pivoted to her truck, hopped in, then leaned out the window. “I’m still not paying you a million dollars.”

With that, she started the truck, pulled out. She circled back toward town, and when she was well out of sight, pulled the truck over.

“Holy crap.” Inhaling, exhaling slowly, she rubbed her hand over her jumping heart. “Holy double crap.”

As if getting the job—the whole thing—wasn’t thrilling enough? She’d whacked herself silly with an impulsive kiss on the side of the road.

Anyone would need a minute to settle down.

Keep it light, she told herself. Keep it light, or try to. Who knew better the consequences of impulsive mistakes?