Eight thirty. More than enough time to make some popcorn—no butter, no salt—and watch a movie with Coach, but not enough time to sneak onto Ethan’s property and take the photographs her boss had requested.
Grant had been waiting at Mac’s desk when she walked into work that morning, armed with a double shot of espresso and a dozen pastries she’d picked up from the Sweet Bakery. The espresso to counteract a sleepless night—Mac blamed Ethan for that—and the pastries for Grant’s bad mood when he found out she hadn’t completed her assignment.
“Where are they?” The editor hadn’t so much as glanced at the white cardboard box balanced in Mac’s hands.
“I, um, haven’t taken them yet.”
“It’s our front-page story, Mac! I need those pictures by tomorrow morning.”
“You’ll have them.” Unlike some people, Mac kept her word.
“Great!” Grant grabbed a blueberry Danish. “You come through on this and maybe I will let you interview the senator.”
“Really?”
“Maybe,” Grant corrected. “I’m planning to go fishing tonight so you can handle the plant mulch maker, right?”
“Matchmaker.” Mac had forgotten all about the garden club meeting.
She blamed that on Ethan too.
A pale yellow moon peeked out from behind a cloud as Mac parked the car in the driveway. A light glowed in the living room window, a good sign that her dad had taken her advice to relax after the first day of practice.
“I’m home—”
A muffled cry drowned out the creak of the front door and Mac’s satchel hit the floor with a thud.
“Dad?” She sprinted down the hall, a silent prayer—Please, God, let him be all right—tumbling from her heart as she skidded around the corner into the living room.
“Hi, sweetheart.”
It took Mac a moment to process the scene that greeted her.
Coach, sitting—upright—on one end of the sofa, a bowl of popcorn separating him from Snap, their black Lab.
And sprawled in Mac’s favorite chair, wearing jeans that molded to the muscular contours of his legs and a faded Red Leaf Lions sweatshirt, was Ethan Channing.
“Is everything all right?” Coach tore his gaze away from the television long enough to frown at her. “You look a little flushed.”
“I thought . . . never mind,” Mac gasped. “I’m fine.” Now that she knew her dad wasn’t having another heart attack.
“You remember Ethan.”
Because it was phrased as a statement and not a question, all that was required was a nod. Which was a good thing, because at the moment a nod was the only thing Mac was capable of.
“Your dad mentioned you were covering a meeting tonight.” Ethan’s easy smile made Mac’s heart skip another scheduled beat. “We didn’t expect to see you until ten.”
Funny. Mac hadn’t expected to see him at all. “Coach didn’t mention we were going to have company.”
“Ethan isn’t company,” Coach interjected. “He stopped by to say hello, and we decided to watch some of the old games. Relive the glory days.”
High school hadn’t exactly been the glory days for Mac, but it was impossible to miss the light shining in Coach’s eyes.
Her dad never played favorites when it came to his players, but Mac could tell he had a soft spot for Ethan. After practice they would hang out in Coach’s office and talk about plays and strategies or watch footage from the previous game. Mac didn’t mind. It had given her an opportunity to watch Ethan.
“You’re welcome to join us.” Ethan’s smile had grown wider, and with a jolt of horror, Mac realized she was guilty of doing it again.
“It’s almost nine.” She cast a pointed look at the clock on the fireplace mantel. “I’m sure Coach is tired after the first day of practice.”
“Coach is fine,” her dad grumbled. “And I don’t need two kids ganging up on me, making sure I get enough sleep and eat all my vegetables.”
“You’re helping me out.” Ethan didn’t appear the least bit insulted that Coach had just referred to him as a kid. “I’m a rookie doctor—I need the practice. No pun intended.”
Mac refused to smile, knowing it would only encourage him. “I thought that news was strictly off the record.”
“I made an exception for your dad.” Ethan stretched out his legs, looking way too comfortable for Mac’s peace of mind. “He’s going to be my first official patient. Isn’t that right, Coach?”
Coach’s gaze slid back to the television. “I’ll try to work it around the practice schedule.”
A statement, Mac thought wryly, that pretty much summed up her entire childhood.