Emerett Has Never Been in Love (Love Austen 1)

One-time it may be. But it had been special. Tender and real and wild and mind-blowing. Something Lake would cherish for a long time.

He fanned the edges of his forest-green polo shirt, sank his hands into his pockets, and entered the coffee-scented kitchen.

Wearing that soft shirt Lake loved and dark shorts, Knight was pulling vinegar from the cupboard. His bare feet had Lake sense-remembering the press and drag of his toes against Knight’s.

A little sound escaped him, and Knight turned around and smiled. “Morning. Coffee’s good to go.” Knight sidled to the stove top as he would any other morning. “Eggs? I’m poaching them.”

How could he be so normal? Seriously, not even a flicker of a blush? Had he lost all memory of their intimates connecting?

Lake filled a mug of coffee and narrowed his eyes. “How much did you drink last night?”

Knight eyed him calmly and stirred his pot of water. “A couple of beers.”

“Did you hit your head?”

A soft chuckle. “Are you feeling okay?”

Lake spoke into a sip of coffee. “Of course.”

“You’re acting strange.”

“Yes, I am. You are not.”

Harry skated into the kitchen in his socks, toppling against Lake. He righted himself and winced as if the sudden movement had jolted his brain. “Some party.”

“You can say that again,” Lake murmured, peeking at Knight, who was cracking an egg into his pot.

Lake buried a frown in a gulp of coffee and focused on Harry, who massaged his temples. Had the news about Philip gotten to him? Or had he taken to drinking for some other reason?

Harry grabbed some coffee and took a relieved sip. “So this thing happened last night.”

“Thing?” Another darting—and unfruitful—look to Knight.

Harry nodded. “Uh huh. With Martin. He wanted to talk to me about the nature of my karaoke choices. They were all goodbye songs. To make a clean cut—romantically. So I can focus on him as a cousin. And a friend. Anyway, I said I had lines to practice for my audition today and ran inside. But Martin followed me, said he didn’t want to push, but that he’d like to understand. I completely freaked out and asked him to help me practice lines—and he did, Lake. Without any complaint. Just picked up the script and started. I could barely remember my lines I was so out of sorts. Like, it was awkward, you know? After the songs? But also, he was so helpful, and I couldn’t help but feel happy he was there. God. After the first refill, I insisted on at least making it fun for him. The pitcher of margaritas probably wasn’t the smartest idea. Especially since it was only me who drank it.”

Harry’s freckled cheeks darkened with a blush. “I don’t remember too much after that. Only laughing really hard, and later, Martin rubbing my back while I threw up in the bathroom. He cleaned up and helped me into bed, and now I’m super embarrassed.”

Lake met Knight’s gaze. “A very normal feeling after sharing an intense moment together.”

Knight’s brows lifted; he scooped his egg onto buttered toast, and passed it to Lake.

Their gazes held.

“Sure,” Harry said, breaking the moment. “But how am I supposed to talk to him again?”

“I don’t know.”

“With honesty and frankness,” Knight said, and cracked another egg into his pot.

Lake nodded slowly and tried to focus on Harry, but his gaze kept straying to Knight. “I agree. If I were you, I would say how much you loved spending last night with him, that you promise those . . . weaker moments won’t happen again, and that his friendship means everything to you.”

Knight cocked his head. “I must change my answer. I’d suggest taking time to look into your feelings before confronting Martin with honesty and frankness.”

Lake frowned. As if he needed to look into his feelings—they were blazing through his cheeks the entire morning! “Fine,” Lake gritted out. “Do that. Take a week before you talk to him about it again.”

Harry nodded profusely. “Absolutely. You’re right.”

“Did you talk to Cameron last night?” Lake asked, salivating over his delicious-looking poached egg on toast.

“Barely. Why? Is he holding auditions?”

“Not yet.” Ugh. Lake had to tell him Philip met someone. Their circles were too close, and he’d rather arm Harry with the information so he wasn’t unexpectedly punched in the face with it.

Lake set his coffee down next to his toast. “Come upstairs with me.”

Harry and Knight looked at him curiously.

“What?” Lake mouthed to Knight. “Harry and I need to flip mattresses . . .”

The work-week dragged. At least, the hours in the office did. As soon as he returned home, he settled into a routine with Knight, organizing Cameron’s Ask Austen surprise party, fighting over the remote, and pretending to read in his company until Knight rolled his eyes, took the book from him, and read aloud. He sure was making headway through Moby Dick.