“No.” She sniffed. “I did, however, go on a lovely road trip. Have you repaired any damaged baby hearts lately?”

“A few. Competed in any chess tournaments?”

“Sadly, no. Listened to Sinatra?”

“Happily, yes.”

“Driven off the side of any roads?”

He made a sound of amusement. “Nope. Gone out to dinner with my friend Ben?”

“Not yet, but we’ve scheduled it for Wednesday.”

That information sent a slash of pain through him. After a few moments, he realized he’d been staring at her too long without saying anything. He motioned toward his house. “Would you like to come in?”

“Certainly, though I don’t want to interrupt your mowing.”

“The mowing can wait.”

They walked across overgrown grass he wished he’d had the chance to cut before she’d seen it.

Mowing his lawn was a throwback to the set of foster parents he’d lived with the longest. Jim had taught Sebastian to mow. Once he’d learned how, Sebastian had run the lawnmower over their front and back lawns every two weeks.

Jim’s motto had been “If something’s worth doing, it’s worth doing well.” By that point in Sebastian’s life, after El Salvador, Sebastian had agreed. He’d found that he liked mowing and mowing well. It relaxed him to do something outdoors with his hands. Back then, many things in his life—mostly the fact that he had no parents—had been a mess. But he’d had the ability to cut the grass perfectly.

Things could and did go wrong with his patients’ health, but to this day, he had this. He could still control his lawn.

“Ben and some of our other friends are coming by any minute,” he said. “They’re going to help me trim the hedges and plant flowers.”

“Sounds like you’ve compiled a whole landscaping team.” She paused in front of the entry to look up at the structure. “Your house is gorgeous.”

Her compliment pleased him more than anything had in weeks. “Thank you.”

“Did you hire an architect to draw up plans?”

“Yes. I was not an easy client. I’m sure she was glad to get rid of me.” He held the front door open for her.

Inside the foyer, he grabbed his T-shirt off the small table next to the door. In one fluid movement, he pulled it over his head.

“May I have a tour?” she asked, then added, “Is that a presumptuous thing to request?” before he could respond to her first question.

“I’d be glad to give you a tour.”

He wanted to take her face in his hands and make out with her. Instead, he led her to the one-story side of his house. While she was distracted, looking at the surroundings, he studied her gentle profile. Her opinion of his place meant something to him. It felt as if he was watching her open a gift he’d given her.