Emerett Has Never Been in Love (Love Austen 1)

“You really don’t like him.” He grabbed a dish towel and started drying the spoons he’d used. “He seemed nice in his texts.”

Knight harrumphed.

“You haven’t seen him in years. He’d have changed since high school.”

“Possibly.”

“He seems like a smart, driven guy with a lot of personality. His texts read like he could charm the pants off anyone.”

Knight’s jaw twitched, and the drain gurgled.

No point arguing. Knight clearly wouldn’t change his mind about the poor guy. But this stubbornness and dislike didn’t feel like the Knight that Lake knew. The Knight he knew understood other perspectives. Empathized.

His friend was imperfect after all.

He slung the dish towel over his shoulder and grabbed his trusty spoon. “Not for the curry,” Lake promised. “For the chocolate spread.”

He beelined for the open jar.

Knight frowned. “That’s not . . . try it first. On some bread.”

Lake snorted and dipped his spoon in, really dunking it, scooping heaps of thick, dark chocolate. He wouldn’t lose his appetite for dinner.

Knight gave in and leaned against the sink, shaking his head.

Lake made a show of lifting the spoon to his mouth and opened wide—

A nasty explosion of taste hit his tongue.

He bolted to the sink, shoving Knight’s grinning ass aside, and spat it out. “Oh my God what kind of chocolate is that?”

“Carob. Amy’s caffeine intolerant.”

“That poor, poor woman.” He spat again. “Jesus. Where were your hand slaps when I needed them?”

A gentle smack hit his ass. Lake knew he’d feel its warmth the rest of the evening. “Come on,” Knight said. “We’ll get some dinner into you.”

“That last flight was the worst I’ve had in my life,” Taylor said. Lake, Taylor, Harry, and Cameron were lounging around Cameron’s backyard pool under large umbrellas. “Turbulence the whole way.”

“Hey, no complaining.” Lake flicked water at Taylor, who laughed and flicked some back, spraying Lake’s neck and cheek. Pleasantly cool in this heat. “You traveled Europe while the rest of us dragged ourselves to work.”

“No dragging on my side,” Cameron said, sipping iced tea. He sat on the edge of the pool in a baggy T-shirt, legs dipping. “I love Mondays.”

Taylor leaned his head against the side of the pool while the rest of him floated. “I’m looking forward to working again too.”

“Did you find it hard not working for so long?”

Taylor and Cameron chatted about their jobs while Lake wished his lemonade had something stronger in it. Enough of people loving their work.

Harry’s pinched face suggested he wasn’t keen on the conversation either. Understandably, on the heels of another failed audition. God, even in the shade it looked like he was burning.

He grabbed Harry by the arm and pulled him deeper into the shade.

Taylor watched, his brow flickering. He’d want to know why his cousin-in-law was staying at his dad’s; Lake hoped he could give him a rundown without bringing up the Philip palaver. “Is Amy coming for a dip?”

“Nope,” Taylor said. “She got even less sleep on the plane than I did. She’s napping.”

“We’ll catch up later then. At your place. While you’re giving me the gifts that you poured your heart into finding for me.”

Taylor fanned a leg over the surface and kicked Lake gently in the stomach. “It’s good to see you’re still the same.”

“You weren’t gone that long. Nothing’s changed at all.”

“Ohh,” Harry chirped, pointing towards Cameron’s side gate. “Knightly’s joining us.”

A tan towel was draped over his shoulder, exposing that glorious torso.

Lake heaved himself out of the pool, spraying water all over the burning concrete path as he darted toward the gate. Their gazes caught and Knight stopped moving. Lake shoved through the gate, flattened his damp palms over that firm, silky chest, and pushed Knight deeper down the shady side of the house.

The soles of his feet found relief on cool brick, but that was the only relief he felt.

Knight’s eyebrows lifted, waiting.

“You can’t.”

“Why not? Taylor asked me to come, and I doubt Cameron has any objections.”

“I have objections.”

“To spending an afternoon with my son?”

“No. Yes. I mean . . .” Lake growled in frustration. “It’s asking for a lot of . . . control.”

Brown eyes darkened. Was that . . . understanding?

“Control,” Knight murmured.

Lake’s fingers were still pressed against Knight, threading through his chest hair. He dropped his hands and glanced away. “You’re practically naked, and I can’t quite help. . .” That intense zipping attraction was already walking over him, leaving goose bumps behind.

He shoved a nervous hand through his hair. “Taylor will notice.”

“Ah.”

“Maybe I should leave.” Lake started to march past, and Knight braced a cool, firm hand around his shoulder.

“Your sudden disappearance will also raise questions. I’ll go.”

“Really?”

Knight’s soft gaze sparkled in Lake’s chest, and—problematically—lower. Knight whipped his towel from his shoulder and wrapped it around his waist.

From over the fence, Cameron cried out, “Are you guys coming in?”

Still bracing Lake’s shoulder, Knight raised his voice, drenched in urgency. “Goddammit. Something stung me.”