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.”
She shook her head. “Don’t be. It is what it is.” What would he think if he found out she’d never intended to marry Mitch at all? Would he judge her like Megan had? She couldn’t take the risk.
Once he got the bottom strings free, the rest unlaced more quickly, loosening the dress enough for her to take it off.
“Do you want to take a shower?” he asked. “I’ll pull a T-shirt out of my bag and leave it on the counter while you’re in there.”
Holding the front of her dress to her chest, she turned and looked up at him. “Why are you being so nice to me?” she blurted out.
Surprise washed over his face. “I thought we’d already been over that. You’ve had a shitty day and I’m being a good friend.” When she didn’t say anything, he continued. “Look, today and tomorrow are your days—”
“You really plan to make tomorrow Libby St. Clair Day?”
He grinned. “You bet your sweet ass I do, but before you think I’m being chivalrous, consider this: Maybe I’ll have a shitty day next week, and then I’ll expect you to wait on me hand and foot. Paybacks are awesome.”
He was almost self-centered enough to make her believe his explanation. Almost. “So you’re like the ant in the ant and the grasshopper story.”
He held up his hands in protest. “If I have to be a bug, I’d rather be a scorpion.”
She shook her head and moved closer to him. “A scorpion is more like a spider than an insect, and even so, you’re not a spider.” She grinned. “More like a roly poly.”
Mock anger filled his eyes. “You’re dead to me, woman. I guess you’ll be sleeping in the buff tonight.”
She reached up and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you.”
He pulled her into a hug. “Always, Lib,” he said. “I mean it.”
And she could tell that he did, which made her feel bad for doubting him earlier at the church.
Maybe there was hope for Noah McMillan yet.
Chapter Seven
Noah set his carry-on bag on the bed. When he heard the water in the shower turn on, he stopped unzipping the suitcase and took a deep breath. Libby was in the other room—naked—and his thoughts raced into dangerous territory.
He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted a woman.
Part one of his plan had come to fruition without his involvement—the wedding had been aborted—but now what did he do? Libby had shot down his proposition a month ago. Could he really risk laying it on the line? The thought terrified him—what if she refused to give them a try?—but right now it didn’t matter. While he might be ready to give their relationship a shot, she’d only just broken up with Mitch. This was hardly the time to make his feelings known to her.
He pulled out a T-shirt and cautiously pushed the bathroom door open. Her wedding dress lay in a giant puddle of fabric on the floor. “Lib, I’m putting my shirt on the counter.”
“Thanks.”
He set it next to her towel, then picked up her dress and carried it out with him, shutting the door behind him. Holding it up in front of him, he studied the silk gown. Based on what she’d told him about her football-centric disaster of a wedding, this was probably the only part of the whole affair that had truly been her. Unsure of what to do with it, he laid it across the back of the desk chair—the skirt billowing everywhere—then pulled out another T-shirt for himself.
The bed loomed in the middle of the room, teasing him. He had no clue how they were going to handle sleeping together. For one thing, Noah usually slept in his briefs, which meant he had no pajama bottoms. He’d have to settle for wearing a T-shirt over them, but the feelings of protectiveness she’d stirred inside of him were also rousing other feelings that might not be so easy to hide if they were nearly naked and close together in bed.