Emerett Has Never Been in Love (Love Austen 1)

Knight tucked a finger under Lake’s chin and urged Lake to look at him. “I didn’t want to bring you trouble.”

“Well now I have the urge to look for more of it.”

“With me?”

Lake shut his eyes. “Oh my God, it’s so wrong and Taylor will freak. But I cannot stop imagining kissing you. I don’t even know why, because you frustrate me. On a daily basis. And I know you’re in love with Paul, and that anything with my best friend’s dad is wrong, but I’m thinking about it. Hell, I’ve been more than thinking about it.”

His eyes shot open. “Oh God, toss me out of your bed right now.”

He started to push himself out, but Knight firmly palmed his waist, splayed fingers warm against him. “Stay right where you are.”

“It’s stupid lust. I promise to control myself.”

“Are you sure it’s only lust?”

Lake froze, frightened at any other possibility, and violently shook his head. Knight didn’t need this nonsense from him, no matter how stoically he was taking it. “You’re more than Taylor’s dad to me, you’re my friend, and I don’t want stupid physical urges to change that. Can we please pretend this conversation never happened?”

“No.”

“No? Why not? You can’t exactly be enjoying it.”

“Not all parts of it.” Knight let out a deep breath. He looked crushingly sad and frustrated, but a wealth of patience quickly cloaked that. “I don’t think you know what you want.”

“In general? Or in regards to my love life?”

“Sometimes, I want to dive into your head and help you figure everything out, but you need to make your own discoveries.”

“I trust you. Whatever your insights are, they’re probably right. You may as well tell me.”

“I can’t and won’t force them.”

“Fine, and I apologize for any future ogling. I’ll try to stop.”

Knight pressed a light, tingling kiss at the corner of Lake’s lips. “Ogle away, Emerett. I’m extremely flattered.”

He turned off his lamp, sinking the room into darkness.

“Knightly?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you for today.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Willing to make time for others. That’s one of those seventeen—nope, that’s one of your countless virtues.”

Knight’s pinkie slid against his. “Any time, Lake.”

“Your bed is so comfortable.” How did he ask if he could stay? “Like, super comfy.”

“Sleep here. I took it for granted you would.”

“You did?”

“Shhh. Good night.”

Lake smiled. “Good night.”

Lake: West won’t make it to the barbecue Sunday.

Taylor: He said he wouldn’t miss it.

* * *

Lake: Sorry.

* * *

Taylor: Oh. Well. . . . Gotta catch a taxi, almost home. See you tm.

Lake dipped a spoon into the chicken-and-cashew curry simmering on the stove and hummed in appreciation as he tasted the spicy flavors. “This is the kind of food that makes me feel better after a shitty week of boring work. Today was hell. I’m glad I made it in time.”

Knight batted his spoon away from a second dip.

“This is for Taylor and Amy.” Lake sneaked around his other side and tried again. “Oy, what are you doing?”

“I swapped the spoon, at least. C’mon.”

“If you’re hungry, make yourself a piece of bread, like I did.”

Lake gazed at the open jar of tarry-looking chocolate spread and half-eaten slice of bread. “This curry is so good, though.” Lake jerked a finger toward Taylor’s kitchen window. “Hey, they’re here.”

Knight didn’t take the bait.

“You’ve already eaten half their dinner, I’d prefer if you didn’t eat the other half.”

“You’re embellishing.”

“No double-dipping. Why can’t you respect my kitchen?”

“Because it’s not your kitchen.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do respect your kitchen. It’s your perfectly delicious cooking that’s the real evil here.”

“I’ll cook for you and Harry at home. Just hold out an hour, and if you’ve stocked the fridge, water the plants.”

Lake more or less did what he was told, and returned to Knight pulling out a fresh loaf of bread from the oven.

Some very nice buns on display. . .

He suppressed electric shivers by absorbing all the Taylorness of this house. The last time Lake had been here—watering potted plants not included—he and Taylor had hung out together in silence on the sofa. At some point he’d rolled off and made himself a sandwich, tossing Taylor a mini muffin. Then, when Lake was on the toilet, they’d had a great back and forth on their phones.

Tomorrow, his best friend was back.

This was good.

This was great.

Lake swallowed a nervous lump in his throat and wiped his clammy palms over his thighs.

Why did he feel so anxious about seeing Taylor? Was he worried their dynamics had changed now he was married? Or was he afraid his illicit thoughts about Taylor’s dad might be obvious, and awkward, and—

That one.

Lake hopped onto the counter next to the stove. “Are you looking forward to Taylor being back?”

One firm hand landed flat against his outer thigh. “You’ll burn yourself.” Knight nudged him aside. “I’ve missed my boy.”

“Yeah, I mean.” Lake nodded profusely. “Me too. Obviously.”