Kiss the Bride (7 page)

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 if 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.