Kiss the Bride (31 page)

Then why do you want to leave?

The words chased through Ethan's mind as Mac pivoted toward the van. Ethan caught hold of her hand, overwhelmed that she'd recruited an army of volunteers to battle the overgrown lawn. The boys had already opened the back doors on the van and were arming themselves with rakes.

“Thanks, Mackenzie. I wasn't expecting this.” Or the current of electricity that rocketed up his arm when her fingers tangled with his.

“They should be thanking you.” She slipped her hand free, but the color rising in her cheeks made Ethan wonder if she'd felt it too. “After a shaving cream fight in the locker room, trust me, they'd rather be here than on the field right now.”

“I remember pulling stunts like that at the beginning of the season.”

“Like drawing faces on the blocking sled that looked a lot like the cafeteria ladies?”

“A coincidence.” Ethan grinned. “But how did you know that was me? I thought I covered my tracks pretty well.”

“I was doing my homework in Coach's office when you snuck in and put the Sharpie back in his desk drawer.”

“Really?”

“Really.” Something flickered in Mac's eyes before she looked away. “You better tell the guys what you want done.”

Watching her walk toward the van, Ethan knew exactly what he'd done.

He'd fumbled the ball.

But . . . Ethan smiled . . . the clock was still running.

A few hours later he dumped the last load of weeds from the
wheelbarrow, a little amazed at how much they'd accomplished in an afternoon.

Mac had split up the team and assigned sections of the yard to each group. Together, the boys cleared most of the debris from the yard and raked the shoreline while Mac cleaned out the boathouse, scrubbing windows and removing the musty life jackets and boxes of fishing equipment that lined the walls.

Ethan had been sent to conquer the weed-choked flower beds on the opposite side of the yard.

A coincidence? He didn't think so.

It wasn't until the sun dropped behind the tops of the trees that Ethan realized it was getting close to suppertime.

Mac must have noticed, too, because she strode to the center of the yard and blew into the whistle hanging from a cord around her neck.

Not only had Mac borrowed Coach's team, she'd borrowed his whistle.

“Fifteen-minute warning, guys!” Mac pitched her voice above the radio.

Ethan peeled off his work gloves and tucked them into the back pocket of his jeans as he walked over to join her.

“Hydrate.” Mac handed him a bottle of water.

Ethan took a swig, letting the cool liquid wash away the dust that coated his throat. “I had no idea a simple wedding could be so exhausting.”

“Jesse Kent, my friend Annie's fiancé, said the same thing a few weeks ago when they were making wedding favors.”

“You didn't mention wedding favors.” Who came up with all this stuff, anyway?

“A small gift for the guests . . . and chocolate is always acceptable.”

Finally. Something that actually sounded simple. “Speaking of favors, is there something I can do for the team to thank them for helping me out?”

Mac tipped her head. “Now that you mention it, maybe there is.”

“I can make a donation to the equipment fund or the booster club—”

“That isn't quite what I had in mind,” Mac interrupted.

As if on cue, the players gathered around them.

“Guys, who would like Ethan Channing, the pride of the Red Leaf Lions, to throw a few passes for you?”

The deafening whoop that followed Mac's question told Ethan the vote was unanimous.

“Passes, huh.” He held out his hands and pretended to consider the notion as Trevor tossed him the ball. “What do you say we have a little friendly scrimmage instead?”

The whoop turned into a roar.

“I'll be the official team photographer.” Mac patted her camera case.

“You should play too.” Ethan flipped the ball into the air and caught it again. Smiled at her. “This
was
your idea.”

“I . . . no.” Mac backed up. “Absolutely not.”

“Come on, Miss D.” Trevor grinned. “We need you to even up the teams.”

Guys.
They always stuck together.

“Great.” Ethan took her silence for agreement. “First touchdown wins.”

He divided the group into two teams, appointing himself and Mac as captains. The look of anticipation on the boys' faces, combined with the sunlight and pine-scented air, stripped away Mac's misgivings. She'd made a fool of herself in front of Ethan before and survived.

Ethan barked out a few rules—Mac suspected it was for her benefit more than the other players—and they met at an invisible line in the center of the yard.

The first few minutes, Mac tried to be an asset to her team by staying out of everyone's way.

“You're doin' great, Miss D.” The running back cuffed
her on the shoulder as they formed a huddle to plan their next strategy.

“I'm terrible and you know it.” Mac swiped at the blades of grass stuck to her jeans.

“That's why no one will be expecting me to pass the ball to you,” Trevor whispered.

A flea flicker. Coach's secret weapon.

“No!” Mac squeaked.

“All you have to do is catch the ball.” Six teenage boys looked way more confident in her ability than Mac was.

She rolled her eyes. “If that's
all
I have to do . . .”

Sarcasm was obviously wasted on teenagers—or else they simply ignored it—because her entire team was grinning as they jogged back to the line.

Mac's eyes met Ethan's and he winked at her. The guy hadn't even broken a sweat while she felt damp and sticky and . . . green.

The play started and Mac broke to the right, following Trevor's lead. The football hurtled through the air and Mac was tempted to duck and let it sail over her head, but she
was
the coach's daughter. It wasn't only her reputation on the line.

To a girl who'd always stood safely on the sidelines, she found a whole new perspective of the game when a group of teenage giants thundered toward her.

Fortunately, Mac had a head start. The rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins didn't hurt, either.

Halfway to the touchdown line, Mac made the mistake of glancing over her shoulder.

Ethan was right behind her.

“Oh no, you don't!” The football began to slip through Mac's hands and she tightened her hold. Glared at Ethan. “I'm not letting go.”

“Have it your way.” A strong arm snaked around her waist and a low laugh vibrated in Mac's ear as he lifted her off her feet.

“Put. Me. Down.” Mac thumped her fist against Ethan's back as he slung her over his shoulder and loped toward the touchdown line.

No one from either team bothered to intervene. Even upside down, Mac could see the boys doubled over with laughter, cheering Ethan on.

Ethan scored the touchdown and set her back on her feet again—but he didn't let go. His arms tightened around her, and it didn't even cross Mac's mind to try and free herself this time. Ethan's gaze dropped to her lips and lingered there for a moment, and Mac felt the world tilt sideways.

Or maybe it was the blood rushing from her head.

That would explain why she was seeing things too. Like the woman standing in the shade of a birch tree.

“Ethan?”

Not a hallucination. Lilah Channing. In a rose-colored linen sheath dress and matching heels, Ethan's mother looked as stylish as Mac remembered. And her tight smile, the one that had always reminded Mac of the snap of a coin purse, hadn't changed, either.

“Mom.” Ethan released Mac as Lilah glided toward them. “I didn't expect to see you until next week.”

“I know.” Ethan's mother regarded her son's clothing, rumpled and grimy from battling weeds all afternoon, and
presented her cheek for him to kiss. “But your sister is getting married a week from tomorrow. There's so much to do before a wedding. I thought you could use some help.”

“I have plenty of help.” Ethan nodded at the football team, who'd taken one look at the visitor and slunk away in search of water.

Mac wished she could join them.

“So I see. And might I remind you that you're a doctor now,” Lilah scolded him. “You're supposed to be setting broken bones, not breaking some of your own.”

“It was just a little scrimmage after we finished the yard work. No broken bones. No bruises.”

“You're finished?” Lilah glanced at the boathouse Mac had spent the last three hours cleaning and shuddered. “I could have used my influence and booked the grand ballroom at Porter Lakeside. Why on earth did your sister insist on getting married here, of all places?”

“Because it's beautiful,” Mac heard herself say.

Lilah turned to look at her.

“You remember Mackenzie Davis, don't you, Mom?”

“Of course.” Lilah's gaze swept over Mac and lingered for a moment on the grass-stained knees of her jeans.

“Mrs. Channing.” Mac resisted the urge to curtsy. “It's nice to see you again.”

Lilah inclined her head. “I suppose your father is still working at the high school.”

“Yes, he is.” Mac's spine straightened a little. Only Lilah Channing could make teaching sound like a punishment instead of a rewarding career.

“Actually, Coach let me borrow his football team for the
afternoon,” Ethan interjected smoothly. “Mackenzie has been a big help.”

“I'm sure. You were always quite the little tomboy, weren't you?” Lilah's tinkling laugh sent a chipmunk scampering for cover. “But I'm here now. I've hosted dozens of parties over the years, and I have a wedding consultant on speed dial.”

Mac might not have been in Hollis's circle of friends, but she understood the meaning behind Lilah's bright smile.

Mac was clearly outside her element. An
outsider.

Which meant it was time for her to leave.

“Is this seat taken?”

Ethan, who'd been skimming through the list of upcoming events in the church bulletin, glanced up at the whispered comment.

“Hollis.” He rose and his sister threw her arms around his neck. The elderly couple seated across the aisle smiled indulgently at the exuberant greeting, and when Hollis finally released him, it was Connor's turn. His future brother-in-law shook Ethan's hand and added an affectionate cuff on the shoulder.

“What are you two doing here? You weren't supposed to be here until Wednesday.”

“Connor's appointments went better than we expected, so we decided to come up a few days early.”

Ethan's lips twisted. “There's been a lot of that going around.”

“What do you mean?”

“Mom's here.”

“I was afraid that would happen,” Hollis groaned. “Mom thinks I'm going to be carrying a bouquet of dandelions and serving hot dogs cooked over an open fire at the reception. I shouldn't have left you to deal with everything, Ethan. You've probably had your hands full.”

An image of Mac's expression when Ethan swept her off her feet flashed in his mind. He remembered her howl of mock outrage when he'd tossed her over his shoulder. And the way she'd felt in his arms . . .

“He's smiling.” Hollis looked at her fiancé. “Why is he smiling?”

“You keep telling me that fresh air is good for people.”

It was more than fresh air. It was Mackenzie. Ethan hadn't had that much fun in months. Years, even. Sure, he squeezed in time at the gym when he wasn't at the clinic, but his workout was disciplined. Designed to yield the maximum amount of benefit in the shortest amount of time.

Somehow Mac had known just what he'd needed. A football and a stretch of green grass.

And then his mother had shown up.

Five minutes later, Mac had herded the players into the van and driven away, taking some of the sunlight with her.