Her mouth watered. The reaction had nothing to do with what might be in the boxes and everything to do with him. He looked as good dressed casually as in a suit.
Sam blew out a breath. “Oh boy. If Ashton brought donuts, you’re going to have to start dating him or convince him to volunteer more.”
“Because of donuts?”
“Three boxes’ worth? You bet.”
She shook her head. At least she knew what to get Sam for his next birthday.
“Good morning.” Ash raised the pink boxes. “Stopped by the Donut Hole. Figured we might need some sugar to jump-start us this morning.”
Sam kept his hands at his side, but he looked like he wanted to grab the boxes and get first choice. “Thanks. The kids will love them.”
“There’s plenty for everybody.” Ash handed over the donuts. “Help yourself now.”
Sam set the boxes on his car’s trunk. He practically drooled opening the first lid, then removed a maple bar. “Happy you’re onboard, dude. We haven’t had donuts since one of our volunteers moved to Seattle last year.”
Jenna understood Sam’s excitement. Youth ministers didn’t earn a big salary, and donuts weren’t considered a necessity. When she’d been working three jobs, a stick of chewing gum could make her day. “Generous of you.”
Ash’s smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. The additional lines appealed to her. Not that she should be noticing how he looked. Or find him attractive. Jenna stared at the asphalt in the parking lot.
“I got your favorite,” Ash said. “Old-fashioned chocolate.”
Jenna raised her head. “You remembered?”
“Don’t sound so surprised. Two years isn’t that long.”
“I guess not.” Still, she was . . . touched. Part of her wondered what they’d had together those two years—love, like, convenience. She’d tried to purge everything about Ash from her memory. “You like sugar donuts, right?”
“That’s right.” He sounded pleased.
Funny he liked that type, because he preferred things neat. Maybe the messiness appealed to him on a subconscious level.
Sam’s maple bar disappeared in a final bite. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m not surprised Ash remembered your favorite donut. You’re an old-fashioned girl.”
“You think?” Ash asked.
“Homemade lemonade, baking pies for mission suppers, sewing her own slipcovers, singing along to beach movies from the sixties.” Sam’s words flowed without hesitation. “I’d call that old-fashioned.”
Ash studied Sam with a hard gaze. “You know Jenna well.”
Uh, oh. Ash’s tone sounded almost jealous. But that made no sense. And Sam was her surrogate brother. “I think I’ll have a donut.”
Sam handed Jenna her favorite kind, but his posture changed. He stood taller, his shoulders square to Ash. “I do know Jenna well. She’s worked at the church for over a year and a half. I see her almost every day, including Sundays during the youth service. But I didn’t know her favorite kind of donut until now.”
“That’s because you’re too busy during fellowship time to notice what I’m eating,” she told Sam.
Ash held his donut midair. “You work here at the church?”
She nodded. “I used to be on the cleaning crew, but now I just work the espresso cart. I also fill in if the office is short staffed.”
Ash looked at her with an odd expression. “I wondered why you no longer attended Westside Christian.”
“This is closer.” Jenna could have said that she felt more comfortable here after folks at Westside took Ash’s side, but chose not to. She’d accepted his apology—saying more would solve nothing. “Pastor Dan and Trish help people who find themselves lost or in difficult positions.”
Sam raised his hand. “Like me a few years ago. I’m another stray they took in. They helped me turn my life around.”
“They’re like the animal shelter, except we have a forever home here.” A warm and fuzzy feeling enveloped Jenna. “I can’t see myself going to church anywhere else.”
“We’re happy you found us.” Sam picked up the ice chest she’d filled and loaded it into the bus.
“Sounds like a good place. Maybe I’ll attend a service here,” Ash said to her surprise. “Westside’s been a little . . .”
“Lukewarm,” Sam offered.
Ash rubbed his chin. “Yeah.”
“You need heat. Fire. Give us a try. Join us tomorrow.” Sam eyed the box of donuts again but didn’t take one. “I’m going to grab a few things from my office. The kids won’t be here for another half hour or so.”
With that, he walked into the church.
“Seems like a nice guy,” Ash said.
“The best. Understands the teens. Listens to them and hears what they’re saying.” She ate the rest of her donut. “I received your check. Thanks. Including interest was generous of you.”
“It’s fair.”
Fair wasn’t a word she would have used, but she wasn’t going to argue semantics.
Ash motioned to the church’s bus, an old school bus donated a few years ago. Trish said the kids’ paint job with multicolored shapes reminded her of The Partridge Family, an old show she watched as a kid.
“Is the youth group responsible for the adventure photos on your walls?” he asked.
“No. The church’s singles group is.”
He took a step toward her. “Singles group?”
She raised her chin. “Yes.”
“Good for you.”
He didn’t sound upset, more . . . supportive. Maybe he hadn’t been jealous of Sam.
“I forgot to bring napkins. You have some chocolate here.” His fingertip brushed the corner of her mouth, sending a burst of sensation from the point of contact. “Now it’s gone.”
He’d touched her lips before with both his fingers and his mouth, but this gesture felt more intimate. Heat singed her insides. Chills tingled on the outside. All she needed was a kiss . . .
What was she thinking?
So what if she hadn’t felt this way in two years? They weren’t a couple. Wouldn’t be one. She crossed her arms over her chest and rubbed her bare arms.
“Cold?” he asked.
“I’m fine.” Or would be as soon as she stopped thinking crazy thoughts about Ash.
He removed a sugar donut from the box. “Have you ever done a ropes course before?”
“No, but Sam said the activities build trust and camaraderie. Have you been to one?”
“No, but I’m looking forward to this. Building trust is something I need to work on.”
The anticipation in his gaze made her mouth go dry. She cleared her throat. “Sounds like something we all need.”
“You’re very trusting.”
“I used to be.”
“What happened?” he asked.
She moistened her lips. “You.”
You.
During the drive and now on the high ropes course, Jenna’s word echoed through Ash’s head. What she said bugged him. He sat with eight teens and their guide thirty feet above the ground.
The midday sun blazed down from a cloudless blue sky. He tried focusing on what the guide, an army vet named Rob, was saying about the challenging exercise they’d just finished, but Ash’s thoughts were on Jenna.
Yes, he deserved the blame for what happened, but she’d accepted his apology. He’d paid her back and was restoring her reputation with mutual friends and acquaintances. He didn’t know what else he could do to prove he was sorry. Couldn’t she meet him halfway? Or was that asking too much?
“An interesting task.” Rob, a friendly, in-shape guy, emphasized the learning process while sprinkling in character and common sense and a little scripture. Like Sam, Rob had a way that drew the teens in. “So what else did we learn?”
“To communicate,” someone mumbled from the back.
Rob nodded. “Knowing how to communicate in different circumstances is key, no matter i
f you’re on a ropes course, in a classroom, on a field, or down on your knees praying. Did you communicate?”
Heads hung low. A few shook back and forth.
The teens owning up to what they hadn’t done pleased Ash. As frustration levels rose during the last task, so had voices, until the volume got stuck at yelling. They’d completed the exercise through brute force, not teamwork. But Rob’s question was directed at the teens, so Ash remained quiet.
“Screaming at each other isn’t communicating,” another teen added.
“If we don’t work as a team, we won’t get far,” a boy with wavy red hair and wearing a Seattle Seahawks T-shirt and board shorts answered.
A girl, her wrist covered in friendship bracelets, sighed. “Too bad we didn’t figure that out sooner.”
Two kids who’d started off strong, then gave up in the middle of the task, laughed, the sound full of nerves, not humor.
“You need one leader.” The boy’s serious voice matched his facial expression. “Someone who doesn’t act like a dictator and will listen to feedback.”
“You have to follow who’s in charge even if you might not agree with them,” said a girl, the self-appointed leader no one wanted to follow.
“Excellent observations.” Rob looked at each teen, waiting until he’d made eye contact before going to the next person. “Could any of you have completed this challenge alone?”
“No,” they said in unison.
“That’s right.” A satisfied smile graced Rob’s lips. “It’s one reason you struggled more with this task than others. You had to rely on each other to succeed.”
The redheaded kid snickered. “You set us up to fail.”
“Nope.” Rob leaned back on his hands. “Following a leader who does a task differently is lesson we must learn.”
“Impossible,” one mumbled.
Another nodded. “What does it matter? We won’t be on a ropes course again for a long time. If ever.”
Other kids agreed.
“True, but you have teachers and coaches. One day you’ll have a boss, unless you start your own company or win the lottery. Trust me, they’ll tell you what they want you to do. You might get married and have a spouse who wants things done a certain way.”
Several boys groaned.
Ash bit back his smile. He remembered the marriage preparation class he and Jenna had been required to take at church. The ropes course would be good for a couple to do together before planning their big wedding day and setting up their gift registry.
Rob stood, brushed his hands against each other. “Pick a new leader for the next element and show me what you’ve learned.”
Ash took the rear to keep stragglers from falling behind.
“Come on.” Jenna’s voice carried from the lower ropes course, where she and her group worked with their guide. Lack of elevation didn’t make a task easier. She clapped, the sound carrying on the warm air. “You’ve got this.”
Her enthusiasm and cheerleader attitude didn’t surprise Ash. But her chaperoning the more difficult group did. None of her teens acted like they wanted to be here.
Two boys dressed in black, with bangs hanging over their faces and shoulders hunched like they’d escaped from a nineties MTV show, had been looking for a place to hide since stepping off the bus. One girl’s eyes gleamed as if she might burst into tears with a wrong word or glance. Another girl complained about the lack of a cellular phone signal.
Had Jenna purposely chosen the more difficult path today? Ash didn’t know, but she hadn’t been that way before.
She clapped again. Whistled. “I know you can do it.”
On the ground, the noise level rose. The guide shouted directions. Jenna offered encouraging words.
Rob stopped to watch. “I don’t believe it.”
The I’d-rather-be-anywhere-but-here teens were killing the most difficult task on the course. Succeeding where the other groups had failed. At the end, the group of misfits and addicted texters high-fived, hugged, and shouted woot woots.
Rob pointed toward Jenna’s group. “That’s teamwork in action. The most efficient groups don’t always have the strongest individuals, but everyone working together and doing their part makes up for skills they lack.”
Jenna also knew how to encourage people to move beyond themselves and their comfort levels. When they were dating, she’d encouraged Ash to offer pro bono legal services through a community group. As soon as they broke up, he’d stopped. Lack of time due to his new job and too many memories of her, even though he’d found the volunteering fulfilling. Maybe he should start again.
Rob led the group to the next element. He grabbed hold of a safety tether. “This final challenge is called On The Edge. Working together and pushing yourself is key to completing the task. Who’s ready?”
Everyone, including Ash, raised hands. As soon as they took a break, he wanted to ask Rob to do a trust-building exercise with Jenna. One that might help Ash’s cause.
He liked the changes in her. The Jenna he’d known went along with whatever he’d said. The new Jenna was stronger, more confident, and not afraid to put herself out there or say what was on her mind.
Friends helped each other. He was going to do whatever he could for her.
During a break from the ropes course, Jenna stood leaning against a tree trunk. The teens lounged on the grass and ate Popsicles. She glanced at Rob, the guide who’d worked with Ash’s group. “You want me to do what?”
“The Trust Fall. You climb up on the platform and fall backwards.” He motioned to the adults. “They’ll catch you.”
Sam would catch her. She had no doubt about him. Toby and the guides too. But Amber would be worried about breaking a fingernail. And Ash . . .
No way.
Jenna forced a lighthearted smile. That was better than a save-me-now-Jesus gasp she held back. She knew He was with her, but she didn’t feel up to this. “Let someone else have a go. I’ll catch them.”
“You were picked.” Rob’s gaze narrowed. “Tell me what’s holding you back.”
They would be here all day. “I’ve never done something like this.”
That much was true, as were her reservations about Ash and Amber.
“The kids will be doing the exercise next.” Rob lowered his voice. “Seeing you do this will help them overcome any fears or doubts they might have.”
Why me? Why now? Jenna wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.
“You haven’t backed down from any challenge.” Toby sat five feet away. Amber was at his side. The two had only been apart when they were with their respective groups.
“Come on. Where’s your sense of adventure?” Amber asked.
Could everyone hear this discussion?
Ash gave Jenna an encouraging smile. “We’re not going to drop you.”
If only she could believe him. But she didn’t. Uncertainty kept her from stepping forward. “Maybe not on purpose.”
“Eight people are required to catch you. The chaperones, then guides will fill in.”
Rob’s casual tone made this sound like no big deal. Maybe to him, but not to her. What he asked was huge.
Teens and adults stared at Jenna like she was performing center stage at worship service. That was the last place anyone would find her. But backing down would have repercussions. Teens might say no when their turn came, and she didn’t want that to happen. She was, in a word, stuck.
Her stomach sunk to her feet. Splat, how she would hit the ground if someone didn’t catch her.
Jenna recognized the benefit of the Trust Fall. Her hesitation told her she needed to do this even if she didn’t want to.
Slowing her breathing didn’t help calm her nerves. “You’ve done this before, right?”
“Many times.” Rob’s smile didn’t waver. “This is a mental challenge, not a physical one. Walk by faith.”
Jenna understood. She’d been living that way since she stumbled into Pastor Dan’s church that rainy
afternoon. She trusted her group, aka the detention crew, to catch her more than Ash and Amber. Not that either would let something happen to Jenna on purpose, but subconsciously . . .
Guilt coated her dry mouth. She shouldn’t think that.
“Do it, do it,” the teens chanted.
She looked at Sam. He winked, then grinned. Some friend he was.
“I’ll be there to catch you.” Sam’s tongue was bright orange from eating a Popsicle. “No worries.”
Easy for him to say. Her heart pounded like a timpani while her pulse resembled a snare roll.
Ash walked toward her, his steps purposeful. “You can do this.”
A lump formed in her throat. “Not sure I can.”
He stopped next to her, placed his mouth by her ear. His warm breath blew against her skin, soft like a caress. If she turned her face to the right, his mouth would be nearly touching her lips.
Bad idea.
“I won’t let you fall,” he whispered. “I promise.”
Oh, how she wanted to believe him. She’d believed him before, only to be dropped by him in the worst possible way. In public, for all to witness. She’d survived that. She didn’t know if she could survive again.
Jenna trembled, but she had to keep the youth group kids in mind. She’d worked with the teens and Sam for over a year. The program grew from the kids’ word of mouth. She couldn’t allow her fear to jeopardize Sam’s hard work.
Ash’s gaze remained on her, a connection she wasn’t sure how to define. “Climb up there.”
Praying for courage, she made her way to the four-foot-high platform and climbed the ladder. Her legs trembled with each rung. The kids applauded. On top, she gave a bow, but her insides twisted like curling ribbon on a gift.
Logically the chances of being dropped were slim. The course elements they’d finished had been more challenging, yet doing the Trust Fall was taking every ounce of strength and courage she could muster.
Ash took his place, crossed his arms with Sam’s. Toby did the same across from Amber. Pairs of guides stood on either side of the four.
Rob hopped onto the platform. “See how they’ve made a canopy to catch you.”
Picture Perfect Love (Year Of Weddings 2 Book 7; Series Order 19) (Christian Romance) Page 5
