“You mean the mini-mansion you put me in? Yeah, I guess it’s okay. I mean, I don’t know if you were trying to impress me, but if you were, mission a hundred percent accomplished.”

He smiled. “Let me go get changed, too. I’ll be right back.” I watched him walk into the open doorway of his room and had a moment where I saw him take off his shirt, revealing the muscles flexing in his broad back before he walked out of view.

I let out a sigh of disappointment and wandered over to the window. His suite appeared to be the same as mine, but given that I didn’t have a bathtub that would let me flash all of Vegas, it seemed as if he’d made sure Allan and Shelby had a nicer room than we had. Given that they only had one night for their honeymoon, it was so thoughtful of him to give them the best.

Everything he did was thoughtful.

Maybe Shelby was wrong. Noah might not have been falling for me, but it felt like I had fallen for him. No matter how hard I fought it or how much I wanted to keep the kissing thing separate from our friendship, it hadn’t worked. I cared about him so much. I’d never been in love with a man before, so I didn’t know if this was what it felt like, but it had to be close.

Should I tell him? But what would I say? I didn’t even know.

I drew in a shaky breath. Before I’d figured anything out, he was back in a black T-shirt and fuzzy-looking plaid pajama pants and his bare feet. He went into the kitchen and came back out carrying a cake. “Ta-da!” he said as he set it down on the dining room table.

The cake was blue and white, and was I mistaken or was that a Star of David on it? I came closer. It said MAZEL TOV.

“Is it my bat mitzvah?”

“No. After a wedding you’re supposed to have a reception. Which has a cake.”

“A wedding cake.”

“Kyle called a local bakery and they only had one that resembled a wedding cake, and we sent that over to Allan and Shelby’s suite, along with a bottle of champagne. You and I get this one.”

“You are the cutest,” I told him, again so touched that he was being nice to my friend.

“I might be,” he agreed. He took out his phone and turned on some slow music. “We have cake, and now we’re supposed to dance. That’s the other thing that happens at receptions.” He started walking around the table toward me.

“Um, no. I wasn’t kidding about the not dancing thing.”

“You weren’t kidding about the no kissing thing, either, and yet here we are.”