He studied her face with a seriousness she wasn’t used to from him. “Are you sure? Maybe you just want to be alone. I understand if you do.”
“The last thing I want is to be alone right now.” Her voice broke and she realized that made her sound needy. She’d trained herself years ago not to appear needy. Needy women sent men running to the hills. But this wasn’t any man. This was Noah. Her friend. That’s what friends were for, right?
Sadness filled his eyes, and he pulled her into a hug. “Oh, Lib.”
She was acutely aware that the few people in the lobby and the desk clerk were staring at them like they were a daytime soap. But she just rested her head on his chest for several seconds, amazed by the peace she felt in his arms. Everything seemed so much less hopeless when she was with Noah.
He kissed her forehead, then set her loose. “One room it is.”
Noah approached the front desk and rested his forearm on the counter, ignoring the shocked look on the clerk’s face. “We need a room with two beds.”
If possible, the clerk’s eyes grew even wider. “Uh . . .” He shook his head and tried to regain his composure. “Two beds? For your wedding night?”
“She’s a kicker,” Noah said with a straight face. “She kneed me in the groin only a month ago and now I’m less one testicle.” He leaned his forearm on the counter and glanced around. Ignoring the openly staring couple in the lobby, he lowered his voice to a stage whisper. “I’ll have you know, that was a difficult one to explain to the insurance company.”
The man’s gaze shifted to Libby before swinging back to Noah. He swallowed. “Umm . . . we don’t have any rooms with two beds, sir. Only a room with a king-size bed. Maybe you should go somewhere else.”
Noah stared down at her with an uncertain look in his eyes, but she nodded her approval.
Turning back to the employee, Noah shrugged and said with an air of resignation, “We did marry for better or worse. In sickness and in testicular injuries. I only hope she doesn’t jostle the prosthesis. How quickly can first responders get here?” The clerk still appeared alarmed, but Noah shook his head. “Never mind. We’ll take it.”
The clerk refused to make eye contact as he quickly checked them in and handed Noah the room keys. “You’re on the second floor, sir”—then he tacked on—“and congratulations.” Although he seemed somewhat uncertain that congratulations were indeed in order.
Noah placed his hand on the small of her back and shepherded her toward the elevator. When the elevator doors opened, he kept his hand on her back even after they were inside. She could feel the heat of his touch through her dress. Determined not to let him know how he was affecting her, she fought to keep her breathing slow and even.
Think of something, Libby thought. Think of something to keep your mind off throwing yourself at him. “I made you lose your testicle?”
“What other reason could I give him for not wanting to sleep with my beautiful bride?” His voice was tight, but his hand remained on her back.
That certainly didn’t take her mind off her hormones. Think of something else. “You forgot your bag,” she said.
“I’ll get it once you’re settled in the room.”
She looked up at him in surprise, but he kept his gaze on the elevator doors. Then the doors opened and he was ushering her out of the elevator and leading her down the hall to their room. She couldn’t help noticing how he’d taken charge tonight—she hadn’t seen him this focused once in the five months they’d known each other.
He pushed the door open and waited for her to walk through.
The first thing Libby noticed was the giant king-size bed, which didn’t seem so giant when she thought about sleeping in it with Noah. As she’d reminded him downstairs, he’d stayed overnight at her place multiple times, yet the closest they’d ever come to sleeping together was snoozing on opposite sides of her sofa. She wasn’t sure she could spend the night in that bed with him without acting on this . . . this whatever was happening to her tonight.
If Noah was affected by the sight of the bed, he didn’t let on. “I’ll be back. Are you okay here?”
His attentiveness made her smile. “I don’t need a babysitter. Go already.”
He paused in the doorway and glanced back her, the warmth in his eyes catching her off guard. “I just want to make sure you’re okay. Part of the best friend gig, right?”
“Yeah. Right.”
He pulled the door shut, and she sat on the edge of the bed and heaved a loud sigh. She may have napped earlier, but she was weary. She laid back on the bed and covered her eyes with her arm.
What was she supposed to do now?
She’d believed in the curse hook, line, and sinker. What reason would she have had for doubt? Megan and Blair’s weddings had both gone according to the curse plan. But hers . . .
If the curse was wrong, it threw everything else in her life into question.
The only way she’d gotten through her childhood was by believing in magic and fate. That she was like Cinderella and some man would finally love her. But if magic didn’t exist and fate was coincidence, how was she supposed to find her happily ever after? What if she never found someone to love her, really love her? Her father had left when she was a baby. Her mother cared for her in her own way, but she was always too busy finding her next lay to spend much time with her. Maybe she was just unlovable.
“Lib?”
She moved her arm, surprised to see Noah was already back. “That was fast.”
“It’s colder than a witch’s tit out there. I didn’t waste any time.” He sat on the bed, looking down at her. “You okay?”
Sighing, she sat up.
“I’m fine.”
He grinned. “Liar.”
“I am.”
“Only a true narcissist could be fine after what you’ve been through. And I’ve always had you pegged as only half a narcissist. Don’t tell me I’ve had it all wrong.”
She laughed, and then before she realized what was happening, she started crying.
Noah pulled her to his chest, rubbing slow circles on her back. When she finally settled down, he said, “Let’s get you out of that dress.”
“I don’t have anything to wear.”
“I was about to suggest you wear nothing,” he teased, “but given the situation, how about you wear one of my T-shirts? Okay?”
She nodded, hating that she’d broken down like that. She’d brought this on herself, which meant she didn’t deserve to cry. She sucked in a deep breath, then stood. “I need help getting my dress off.”
His smile was a touch self-deprecating. “Lucky for you, getting women out of their clothes is my specialty.”
“Save the tales of your exploits for another time.” She knew he’d undressed plenty of women, but for some reason the thought irritated her. She turned and presented her back to him. He tugged on the laces at the rise of her ass.
“Good God. Is this a wedding dress or a chastity belt?” he groaned as he fought to work the laces loose.
“Megan might have been overly aggressive in pulling them tight.”
“I guess she didn’t want Mitch to have easy access.” His hands stilled as he groaned. “God, Lib. I’m sorry.”