Emerett Has Never Been in Love (Love Austen 1)

Lake winced.

Knight’s expression softened. “I know in your heart you really think you’ll follow through with your plans.”

“I follow through with my plans.”

“How did you like Moby Dick?”

“The title was intriguing.”

“And the rest?”

“It’s not my fault you like boring books!” Lake cast him an indignant scowl. “Fine, I didn’t read any of your favorite reads, and maybe a few other projects never saw the light of day, but that doesn’t mean I’ll get impatient and abandon Harry.”

“I don’t want to see anyone hurt.”

“Do you always think the worst of me?”

An astounded laugh barked out of Knight. “No. I really don’t.”

Lake didn’t need more confirmation than that, but . . . He halted in the middle of the sidewalk. “Tell me something good then.”

Knight set the carrier down and stepped close to Lake. Fingers cupped his jaw and a thumb tapped against the edge of Lake’s mouth. “This charming smile you’re giving me while fishing for compliments.” Fondness beamed in Knight’s eyes, then he dropped his hand and cleared his throat. “Look, Harry is the kind of guy who’d follow you off a cliff. So just watch where you’re walking, okay?”

Lake waved a dismissive hand, still feeling the heat of Knight’s thumb on his lips. “Go back to complimenting me. Nice smile. Anything else?”

Knight shook his head in disbelief. “You know you’re attractive.”

“Attractive? From someone who actually read all those books, I expect better diction than attractive.”

Knight laughed. “Fine. Beautiful.”

“Still think you can do better.”

Knight held his gaze. “The most beautiful man I’ve met.” He picked up Garfield’s carrier and walked like he hadn’t started punching butterflies into Lake’s chest. “I love how rarely you let your looks get to your head. You consider them a mild inconvenience, even.”

He was being honest, that’s all. Knight wasn’t the kind of man to resist empirical truths, and Lake had pushed him to state the obvious. Not that he thought himself the most beautiful man, but he knew he looked good—many had said so before.

But no-one else’s words had knocked him so off-center.

“Many wonderful adjectives describe you, Lake, but don’t derail this conversation. Will you be careful with Harry?”

Lake took three long rain-scented gulps. “I’ll be careful if you promise to keep your thoughts to yourself.”

“As long as I see you being careful, I will keep my thoughts to myself.”

Lake laughed. “You’re ridiculously frustrating to talk to. Maybe that’s why you’re single.”

“Ditto.”

Rain spilled from the sky. Lake pulled out the umbrella he kept in his bag, and opened it above them. They huddled close, Garfield crammed between them, and their gazes caught. Knight’s sparkled with good humor, and it yanked a grin from Lake. He shook his head. “What will become of us?”

Lake invited Philip to dinner during their volunteer shift. He’d meant for him to come over later that night, but after they’d finished their shift, Philip followed him to his car and buckled himself in.

On the drive home, Philip fished after who else would be there, and Lake bit down on a grin. One would have to be clueless not to see how into Harry Philip was.

Lake helloed the house as they entered, and found Harry pacing the lounge with the phone to his ear and Knight making a crashing sound in the kitchen.

Knight darted his gaze away from them and crouched to a watering can gushing liquid over the floorboards.

Had he been taken aback by Philip? Lake should’ve given him a heads up, but he also hadn’t expected Philip to hop into his car right away.

Harry waved brightly, and Philip whispered in Lake’s ear.

“Harry really lights up around you. I get it. You’re generous and kind, and . . .” Philip swallowed thickly.

“He’s an easy guy to hang with.” Lake shrugged.

Philip rocked back on his heels and nodded vigorously. “Totally. Is he wearing your clothes?” Harry rocked a tight pair of jeans and a slim-fitting T-shirt that made his blue eyes pop. “It’s a very”—Philip looked back at Lake—“hot look.”

Lake donned a self-congratulatory grin. “Yeah.”

Philip’s brow quirked and he smiled, then shifted, like he wanted to share another secret. Lake dipped his head forward, ready for Philip to admit that he was into Harry but nervous to ask him out.

Harry ended his phone call with a groan. “What’s wrong?” Lake asked.

“My agent says I need better head shots for my portfolio. Actually, one head shot and one freestyle picture.”

Lake might have ditched most of the projects he started, but each had taught him a skill. This was a problem Lake could solve. And on the heels of his conversation with Knight, it was a problem he wanted to solve.

As if he sensed Lake’s smug look, Knight glanced over from where he was watering his flowering houseplants and aloe vera. Their eyes met with that strangely addictive, illicit zing.

Would he ever get used to the force of Knight’s looks?