Love on a Deadline (6 page)

“Down by the water.” Ethan pointed to a natural curve in the shoreline.

Mac raised her camera. “What time?”

“Six o'clock.”

“An evening wedding.” She nodded her approval. “The natural lighting will be good that time of day.”

Ethan hadn't thought about the lighting at all. He hadn't thought about music or decorations or flowers, either.

Mac snapped a picture. “Do they have a theme?”

“It's a wedding. Isn't that the theme?”

He took Mac's ragged exhale as a no.

“Hollis said all she needs is a groom, a pastor, and a wedding dress.”

“I hate to tell you this, Ethan, but your sister lied to you. My friend Annie is having a simple wedding but she's been planning for months to make it special. The two don't cancel each other out.”

“I'm open to suggestions.” Really open.

“Start by working with what you have.” Mac's gaze swept over the property. “Brides pay tons of money for hydrangeas and you've got a whole row of them growing against the foundation of the house. Don't rip the wild grapevine down, have the photographer use it as a backdrop. Put floating lanterns in the lake. Strings of lights in the trees.”

“You said you didn't know much about weddings. Where did you come up with all these ideas?”

“I don't know.” Mac shrugged, but a wave of color washed over the delicate curve of her jaw and filled the spaces between her freckles. “What about the menu for the reception?”

“Hollis said—”

“Let me guess.” Another sigh. “Keep it simple.”

“Right.”

“How many guests?”

“Mmm. Twenty?” Judging from Mac's expression, Ethan should have made it sound like a statement rather than a question.

He was beginning to understand why Mac had reacted the way she had when he'd said he was in charge of the details. Planning a wedding wasn't exactly part of his skill set.

“Red Leaf doesn't have anyone who caters, but you could talk to Sharon at the Korner Kettle. Her daughter made
hors d'oeuvres for the historical society's fashion show last week and they were amazing.”

“Jennifer still lives in town?” She'd been the salutatorian of Ethan's graduating class, voted Most Likely to Make the Cover of
Fortune
Magazine.

“She married Mike Abbott and they run his dad's lumberyard together.” Mac shook her head. “You'd be surprised how many people stayed in Red Leaf . . . or ended up coming back.”

He shot her a sideways glance. “Like us.”

“Like you,” Mac corrected. “I came back to take care of Coach after his heart attack, but he really doesn't need me anymore. I've already stayed about six months longer than I planned.”

“Where do you want to go?” Ethan didn't know why, but the thought of Mac leaving Red Leaf cast a shadow over the conversation.

“A few weeks ago, the editor at the
Heritage
called and told me they have an opening for a reporter. The deadline is the first of September, and he encouraged me to apply for it.”

“Isn't that where you did your internship?”

“It's where I ran errands and proofread everyone else's articles,” Mac said ruefully. “My internship will help but the competition is pretty fierce. In order to get the job, I have to submit a sample of my work.”

“You've been writing for the
Register
since you came home. It shouldn't be a problem.”

“I've been covering meetings and community events. I need something that will grab their attention.” Mac angled
the camera toward the sky and snapped a photo of the eagle Ethan had seen the day before.

“Aren't you supposed to be taking photographs of the wedding venue?” he teased.

“That handsome guy is on the guest list.” Mac tucked the camera into her bag. “Did Hollis happen to mention a cake?”

“I'll add it to the list. Right after buying twinkly little lights but before the guy in the penguin suit.”

Ethan's breath tangled in his lungs when Mac smiled. A real smile, as unexpected and enchanting as a shooting star.

It was the same one Ethan had seen on Mac's face in the video clip when he'd made the winning touchdown ten years ago.

The team had always looked at Mac like a kid sister, and that was what she'd been to Ethan. A kid. He'd never really looked at her at all.

He'd been an idiot.

It might have taken a decade, but never let it be said that Ethan Channing didn't learn from his mistakes.

Mac had forgotten how loud a van-load of teenage boys could
be. Or how fragrant. She cracked the driver's side window of the van. The combination of testosterone and AXE cologne was a little overpowering.

Mac had stopped by the high school on her lunch break to drop a sandwich off for Coach—turkey on whole wheat—and found the entire team squirming on the bench.

School wasn't in session yet, but her dad was a stickler about the team getting into shape before the season started. Judging from the guilty looks on the boys' faces, they'd done something that hadn't been in the playbook.

“What do you think the consequences should be for having a shaving cream fight in the locker room, Mackenzie?” her dad had barked. “Crunches? Push-ups?”

It suddenly occurred to Mac that all that restless energy could be put to good use outside the field as well. “I have a better idea.”

She'd given Coach the sandwich and taken the keys to his van.

“Are we really going to meet Ethan Channing?” One of the boys leaned over Mac's shoulder. “My dad still talks about the play-off between the Lumberjacks and the Lions.”

Was she the only person in Red Leaf who wanted to forget that game?

“I'm sure he'll be there.” Mac felt another pinch of guilt for taking off and leaving him alone with his wedding checklist.

Not that Ethan had given her much of a choice.

So why did her brain tend to sift out the bad memories until all that remained was the look on Ethan's face when he'd said those four little words?

I need you, Mac.

Because she was a glutton for punishment.

There was no sign of Ethan when she pulled up to the house, but country music blasted from an old radio perched on a pyramid of paint cans.

Ethan emerged from the garage as Mac turned off the ignition. He stopped short when he saw the boys spilling out of the van, and his gaze cut to her, a question in his eyes. “What's going on?”

“You're looking at the starting lineup for the Red Leaf Lions.”

“I usually perform physicals in an office,” Ethan murmured.

“They aren't here to get a physical. What they need is a few hours of intense conditioning.”

Ethan still looked so adorably confused that Mac couldn't
help but shake her head. “I think you've forgotten what it's like to live in a small town, Dr. Channing.”

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.”