How to Make a Wedding

by Cindy Kirk

“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.<
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  “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 ro
se 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.

  “Mornin’, Ethan!”

  “Hey, Coach.” Ethan felt a stab of disappointment when he realized Mac wasn’t with her father. “You remember my sister, Hollis, don’t you? And this is Connor Blake, her fiancé. Connor, Ben Davis.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, sir.” Connor extended his hand.

  “Call me Coach.” Mac’s dad chuckled. “I don’t know how to answer to anything else.” His gaze shifted to Hollis. “Mackenzie is volunteering in the nursery, but you should stop in and say hello after the service. I know she’s looking forward to interviewing you for the Register.”