“I’m fine.” He shrugged to show it was no big deal.
“’Tis but a scratch,” the other one said. The words sounded familiar, like he was quoting from something, but I couldn’t think what it was. The injured one grinned, though.
I let go of the hem of his shorts, but when I tried to smooth it back into place, I realized there was a tear. “And your shorts got ripped!”
“It’s not a problem,” he said with a smile.
Jeesh, was he this nice to all women who tried to run him down and ruin his clothes? “I can fix them for you.”
That took him by surprise. “You can? How?”
For some reason, his reaction flustered me. “I sew.”
Now the one with the dark blond hair looked surprised, too. “What are you, a seamstress or something? I thought all of those died out after the Middle Ages.”
“I like to sew.” I sounded defensive even to my own ears, but I knew it wasn’t a hobby most people in their twenties engaged in. “I made my sister’s dress.”
Understanding lit up the eyes of the man whose shorts I’d torn. “Oh, you’re the maid of honor. Maggie, right?”
“Maddie,” I corrected. I got that a lot.
The tall man snorted. “You didn’t figure that out from her ride? It’s just like mine.”
My jaw dropped. That meant he was the best man. The man I’d walk down the aisle next to at the wedding. He looked like a freaking dark angel or something. What on earth was I going to look like standing next to him in the horribly frumpy bridesmaid’s dress I had to wear? Gina had provided a list of lovely dress choices, but the other two bridesmaids, Hanna and Savanna, had insisted on a peach-colored monstrosity.
They’d sent us pictures once the dresses had arrived. With their little size zero frames, they looked like southern belles with a severely outdated sense of fashion. For me, the dress hugged me in all the wrong places and seemed to add twenty pounds.
It was beginning to sound like a nightmare. I’d have on the worst thing I could possibly be wearing while standing next to the most gorgeous man I’d ever laid eyes on. Maybe it would’ve been better if I’d crashed.
And that meant that the other two men were Doug’s other groomsmen. I could see why Gina said they’d make my eyes bug out. All three were handsome in different ways.
The best man held out his hand. “Brock Hawthorne.” His grip was firm, and his hand was warm. And large. Everything about him was large. He made me feel small, and that wasn’t a sensation I was used to.
The man with the scratched knee held out his hand next. “Jessie Malone.” His smile was as kind and warm as his eyes. He reminded me a bit of Doug. Handsome but with such a nice, normal persona, you didn’t get overwhelmed by his looks.
That wasn’t the case with the third man. He was the one with the dark blond hair and green eyes that gleamed. “Kincade Cabot, at your service.” Instead of shaking my hand, he raised it to his lips and kissed the back of it, making me blush. Did people really do that outside of movies? Apparently Kincade did.
Since they’d all given me their full names, I did the same. “Nice to meet you all. I’m Madison Rowe.”
“Madison?” Kincade repeated, an eyebrow raised. “Like the square garden?”
Genuinely confused, I just stared at him before Jessie clued me in. “He’s referring to Madison Square Garden where the Knicks play. It was a joke.”
“Not a very good one,” Brock said.
Whether it was or not, it had gone right over my head.
“Where were you headed when you decided to run Jessie over?” Kincade inquired, changing the subject. Not that it was a very comfortable subject change, in my opinion.
“Don’t tease her about that,” Brock said sharply. He had a raspy, growly voice that made my pulse increase.
I smiled at him gratefully. “Guess I got a bit carried away. It was fun to drive.”
His expression softened. A little. He still looked a bit fierce compared to his companions, but maybe he always looked that way. “I know. I tried mine out, too.”
That’s right. As the best man, he had one, too. “Wanna race?”
One dark eyebrow raised high enough that I could see it above his aviator glasses. “It’s probably best that you stick to the speed limit for now.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Though that didn’t sound like much fun. “I was looking for my cabin, but I couldn’t remember where it was.”
“Do you know the number?” Jessie asked instantly.
Until that moment, I hadn’t even remembered that it had a number, but now I recalled seeing a numeral over the door. “Seven.”
“Ah,” Jessie said, his gaze going unfocused for a moment like he was visualizing something. “Go back along this path, and when you can see the pools, hang a sharp left and go down the path. Your cabin will be on your right.” He pointed through the trees in the approximate direction.