Free The Gambler by Denise Grover Swank Page B

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.”
    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