Jock Blocked: A Billionaires on the Beach

“Thanks,” I said, but I was too puzzled to stop there. “How d’you know that?”

“He has a photographic memory,” Kincade said.

“Nearly photographic,” Jessie corrected.

“And he’s a nerd who likes maps, so he always studies them before going anywhere,” Kincade added.

“Only sometimes a nerd,” Jessie said, with an easy grin at his buddy.

“Oh. Well, thanks.” I knew it was time to head to the cabin so that I could unpack and get ready for the reception, but I didn’t want to be rude. I also didn’t really want to leave the company of these handsome, entertaining men, but they’d already helped me out so much—it wasn’t fair to keep them out here all day. If they hadn’t saved me, I’d probably have ten times the number of scratches that Jessie had, plus possibly some broken bones. “I’d better get back.” A new thought occurred to me. “Do you guys need a ride?”

Brock shook his head. “Our cabin’s not far.” He pointed in the opposite direction that Jessie had said mine was in. In the momentary silence that followed, I realized I could hear the faint sound of the waves coming from that way.

“Will we see you tonight at the reception or will you be busy seamstressing?” Jessie asked.

“I’ll be there.”

“Looking forward to it,” Kincade said, with a gleam in his eyes that made me believe he actually meant it. But that had to be because it was a chance to have a nice meal and to catch up with his friends—not because of me, I was sure.

There was nothing else to say, so it was time to go. I kind of wished that they’d start back first, however. After my not-so-stellar driving display before, I was a little self-conscious about heading off while they were watching. But they made no move to leave, so I gave a little sigh and wiggled around until I was properly positioned in the driver’s seat.

The cart turned right on when I started it, and the motor didn’t sound like it had been damaged. Executing a sharp turn, I managed to avoid hitting any of the rich, gorgeous men. “Bye,” I called over my shoulder, not taking my hands off the wheel.

“See you soon, Maddie.”

I wasn’t sure which one of them said that, but whoever it was, I hoped to see him soon, too.

I hoped to see all of them again soon.

4

Maddie

“Oh, it’s you,” Savanna said when I knocked and then entered the small wooden cabin. At least I think it was Savanna. The two sisters were a few years older than my twenty-five years. They weren’t twins, but they looked very similar. They were both blue-eyed blondes, of average height with extremely small frames.

With a slight frown, Maybe-Savanna stepped back, holding the door open. “Maggie’s here,” she called.

“It’s Maddie.” I moved around her and into the small space. It wasn’t wide, but it had a sloped roof that came to a point high above my head. The room contained two twin beds, two dressers, a television, and a microwave. Two doors led off it. One seemed like it might be a closet, and the other one opened as my eyes swept over it. Hanna, if it was her, stepped out of what was obviously a small bathroom.

“It is you,” Hanna said. “We saw all that stuff piled over there and thought we were rooming with a maid.”

I followed her gaze to see my mismatched suitcases, my sewing machine, and a garment bag shoved into a corner.

“We were kind of right,” Savanna said as I hurried over to pick the garment bag up. It contained Gina’s dress and my bridesmaid’s dress. “You are a maid… a maid of honor.” She and her sister laughed at her play on words.

“Why do you have a sewing machine?” Hanna asked, making it sound like the oddest thing in the world.

“I made Gina’s dress, so I brought it in case I have to do any last-minute alterations.” I opened the small closet and hung the bag up. Later, I’d take the dresses out, but for right now, I didn’t want to do that with the others in the room.

The silence behind me felt wrong. I turned to see them both staring at me in astonishment.

“You… you made her dress?” Savanna said. I think she was the slightly taller one, though they still looked very similar to me.

“Yes.”

“Oh honey,” she said, giving me a look filled with pity.

Her sister jumped in. “You didn’t need to make her dress. Doug is rich. He could’ve hired Vera Wang to make her a one-of-a-kind creation. No woman marrying into a family like Doug’s should wear a homemade dress.”

“She wanted me to make it,” I said, my voice faltering. It was true that I’d told my sister that I wanted to make her dress before we knew that Doug was so wealthy. But once we’d found out, it hadn’t occurred to either of us to change the plan. I worked really hard on her dress. I spent long hours researching trends in wedding dresses, and I shared all my findings with Gina. We decided on every aspect of the dress together, and I was more proud of it than I’d been with anything I’d ever made.