Emerett Has Never Been in Love (Love Austen 1)

If he would smile, Lake would know this imminent conversation would be the one he’d hoped for. But Knight had likely come home early to apologize for crossing lines with him, for confusing his feelings. He was sensible and caring, and he wanted to clarify their friendship face to face.

Lake had to say something. Break the tension crackling with nervous energy between them. “You were right, by the way.”

“Right?” Knight asked.

“About Josh and West having a thing.”

“Yes. Were you disappointed? You seemed to really get along with West.”

Lake turned to him, water pulsing to their side. “I’m not into West, Knight. Not that way. At all.”

Knight’s stiff posture eased. He reached for the hose, and their warm fingers brushed as he took it over. “I hoped . . . I’m relieved to hear it.”

That quiet, shaky exhale.

Lake’s chest fluttered.

Knight steered the hose toward the flowerbed closer to him. “Every mention of his name turned me into someone I didn’t like.”

Lake’s gaze shot to Knight’s profile. “On paper, he seemed like a good match, but . . . He is not for me.”

“I was envious.”

Lake’s words tangled in his throat. “Like I was with Josh? Am currently, with Harry?”

A darted, confused glance. “Harry?”

“Aren’t there sparks between you? You made him dinner with paired wine. You fell on him at the strawberry fields.”

“I’ve been cooking dinner for you both for weeks, and I fell by accident!”

“So, you weren’t fishing about Martin to see if Harry was available?”

“Good Lord.” Knight faced him. “I did not race home to speak to Harry. Was that what you needed to know? When I read that message I thought—”

“That’s not what that message was about.” Lake looked away, and Knight returned his focus to the drenched flowerbed.

“What do you need to know?” Softly.

Lake understood. “I’m . . . I’m not sure I need you to tell me anymore.” He felt the truth like he’d never felt anything in his life. It lifted him so high, he was soaring.

“You don’t?” Knight’s Adam’s apple jutted.

Lake touched Knight’s arm, skated his fingers over Knight’s whitened knuckles and twisted the nozzle to Off. “I don’t.”

Knight whisked around. “I have to tell you. I’ve held back so long, waiting for you to see how much I care, and your messages . . .” He looked Lake desperately in the eye.

Oh God, he’d misunderstood. Lake didn’t need to know because now it was finally clear to him how Knight felt, not because he didn’t want to know—

He tried to interject, but Knight was . . . impassioned. “I do care about you, Emerett. I care about you so goddamn much. Not just as a friend.”

Lake stepped close to Knight’s resolute stance. He pressed a palm to Knight’s chest and spread his fingers over the soft fabric of his T-shirt. His voice trembled. “No, not as a friend.” He looked up, flushing. “I think you . . . love me?”

Knight sucked in a deep breath. Swallowed. Whispered, “So very much.”

“How long?”

“A while. Before I picked you up from the police station last year. I didn’t think you felt the same. Until . . . everything since the wedding made me wonder. Made me . . . hope. The things you did and said, I . . . But even as I grew surer, I knew you were oblivious to it.”

Lake folded into Knight, resting his forehead against his shoulder, groaning. “I’ve been so blind. With everything. Harry, Philip, West.” His nose brushed Knight’s neck, and he breathed in the scent of spring. “Most of all you.”

“Reading you has been a pastime for months, but right now I need spoilers. Do you feel the same?”

Lake murmured, echoing Knight. “I’m not feeling your heartbeat for theatrics.”

Knight cupped Lake’s face. His serious eyes searched Lake’s. “I don’t expect undying commitment, but I need to know—”

Lake surged forward and kissed him. The lightest press of their lips, one beat, two, three.

Knight gasped, hands slipping to his waist, his nape, squeezing as he deepened their kiss. They held each other, both trembling, each holding the other up. “I can’t believe it.”

“Neither can I,” Lake admitted. “I was scared you saw me differently after how horrible I was to Cameron.”

Knight kissed him again, sincere, tender. “You made a mistake. You also apologized—and your distillery? What a wonderful way to help Cameron. You’re a kind, generous, loving man.”

Lake grinned. He did like all this praise . . . “Anything else?”

Knight laughed. “I love how much you live in the moment, how you inspire so many people, how you always find a way to make me laugh. You make our house a home.”

Lake’s heart tripped. “Our?”

“Yes, Emerett. Our.”

“Oh my God. I just got it.”

Knight raised a brow.

“I’m why you’re single.”

“No one else could hold a candle to you.”

Lake startled, more realizations slamming into him. “You never were into Paul.”