That did sound good. I slipped off my shoes and padded over to get one. It was probably a good idea to hydrate after the drinking I’d done last night.
When I’d downed half the bottle, I returned to where my stuff was. I wanted to get into the pool, but I wished the guys weren’t looking my way. Did they even know how lucky they were to feel so comfortable in their own skin? I was wearing shorts and a t-shirt over my bathing suit but I still felt self-conscious.
I took another swig of water and then took a deep breath. Without looking over at the men, I unfastened my shorts and pushed them down. The oversized t-shirt, I kept on.
I felt eyes on me as I walked over to the pool. I sat down on the edge, dangling my feet in the water. It was a little cold, but it felt refreshing, especially as the sun heated my upper body.
Jessie waded over to me. “Nice toes.”
I grinned, looking at the soft pink paint. Gina and I had gotten a pedicure before coming to the island. Hopefully, it would last until the day before the wedding which included spa treatments.
“It’s so pretty here,” I said, my gaze on the water beyond the beach. An ocean view wasn’t something people from Tennessee got to experience often.
Jessie put his hands on the edge of the pool and lifted himself up, positioning himself next to me.
“Are you used to views like this since you live in California?”
“I’m more used to the view inside my office,” he said. “I like this one, better.”
Kincade swam over, using a clumsy stroke that was part dog paddle. “I like the view, too.”
Since he was facing me, I ignored him—or tried to. I could feel my face flushing. My friend Emma always told me I needed to learn to take compliments, but it was hard. Any focus on my body made me feel self-conscious. Once, after a few drinks, I’d confided to Emma that that was one of the reasons I let my curly hair grow so long. Masses of curls caught attention but in a way that didn’t make me feel uncomfortable. Emma, who had straight hair, didn’t see anything wrong with my unruly waves. My parents and Gina were constantly telling me to get a haircut, however.
“What’s on the agenda for today?” Kincade asked as he hovered near us, attempting to float on his back. Every time he got his legs up so that he was almost horizontal, his head would start to go under and he’d hastily put his feet back down.
“Gina and I’ve got the cake-tasting, plus we’re meeting with the wedding coordinator to go over some details. Lunch is on our own, but I think everyone’s getting together for dinner.”
“I think he meant recreational plans, not wedding stuff,” Brock said.
I tilted my head to the side, giving him a stern look. “Aren’t you supposed to be the best man?”
“Depends on what your definition of best is,” Kincade said, and Brock shot him a look.
“Do you need us for any of those things, Maddie? If so, I volunteer for the cake-testing.” Jessie looked earnest, but I could see the amusement in his eyes.
“Such a selfless guy,” I said, but I smiled and patted his knee. “Brock, we really could use you when we talk with the wedding coordinator. Since the ceremony takes place outside, we all need to be familiar with the setup. It’s harder to walk down the aisle when there isn’t an actual aisle.”
“This whole place is an isle,” Kincade quipped, but I didn’t take my gaze off Brock.
“Doug will be there,” I said. “You’re supposed to support him.”
Brock frowned. “I thought that being best man was mostly a ceremonial thing. Like I’d be his second if someone challenged him to a duel this week.”
That made me laugh in spite of myself. I could just see Brock standing behind Doug in some kind of historical uniform, ready to defend his buddy to the death. It seemed to me that Doug’s fictious enemies might think twice if they saw that a big, hulking man like Brock had his back. “So what do you want to do today instead?”
“Beach volleyball,” he said.
“This afternoon,” Jessie added. “Doug’s already on board.”
“You should come and watch,” Kincade said. “Bring your sister, too. She can see us wipe the floor—er, wipe the sand—with her man.”
I stared at him. “The three of you against Doug?”
“Of course not,” Brock growled. “I told you, I’m his second. We’re not the ones who’ll end up on the ground.”
“Sounds like fun.” My cheeks heated, and not from just the sun. My mom’s sister, who couldn’t be here because she was recovering from surgery, had been a huge fan of the shirtless volleyball scene in Top Gun. She’d shown it to me a year or two after I hit puberty. A live version—especially when I wasn’t sitting next to my aunt—sounded pretty damn good.