Emerett Has Never Been in Love (Love Austen 1)

“You did see the bookmark in Moby Dick this morning, right? That should tell you everything.”

“Interesting choice of bookmark. Large and shaped remarkably like a tabloid magazine.”

Lake grinned. “Blame Cameron. He made me buy it. I have to get my Ask Adam fix before they quit the column.”

“Riveting reading,” Knight said drily.

“Don’t dis it until you try it.”

“All right then, I will.”

“Really?”

“Sure.”

“You’ll get addicted, I promise.”

Knight pointed out the windshield. “Taking the bridge will get us home faster.”

Lake reluctantly changed lanes. “I hate you.”

A delighted laugh. “Would it be easier if you had something to look forward to after?”

“I don’t know,” Lake grumbled.

“What if we went to dinner? Something special.”

“Something special might need to include high-quality napkins for sobbing into.”

“If they don’t, I’ll let you use my shirt.”

“The one you’re wearing?”

“No restaurant would let me in like this. I’ll shower and change while you break the news to Harry.”

Lake glanced down at his jeans and T-shirt. “Will I be okay like this?”

“You could wear a sack and still get service.”

That tugged a grin out of Lake. “You know what?”

“What?”

“You’re right. Looking forward to dinner will make this easier.”

His confession to Harry swamped him with burning hot shame, and the dejection that crested Harry’s face . . . Lake would never forgive himself.

They were in Harry’s room, sitting against a wall of pillows. The window was cracked open, but it didn’t disguise the lingering scent of aftershave that didn’t belong to Harry. Other evidence of Martin’s visit peppered the room. A half-empty soup bowl on the bedside table, a stack of books on the desk, and a vibrant bouquet on the window seat.

“Philip didn’t like me at all?”

“I’m so sorry,” Lake said, unsure if he should pat Harry on the back. Lake had loved that intimacy from Knight, but with Harry it didn’t feel comfortable. Their friendship wasn’t at that level.

He patted a soft there-there on his shoulder, arm well extended. “This is all my fault.”

Harry shook his head. “It’s not. It’s fine. I’m used to it. Philip was out of my league anyway.” Harry’s smile wobbled.

Lake wanted him to yell and curse him for meddling in the first place. “You’re so much better.”

“You’re too nice, Lake.” Harry sighed. “This day has all-around sucked. Martin was robotically good to me. He came and heated the soup, but he never looked in my eyes. He seemed sad, even as he was tenderly taking care of me. He refused to watch the movie from my bed, pulled up a chair instead.”

“Maybe it was more comfortable that way?” Lake tried, cringing.

“He’s upset that I pushed him away, and I feel . . . ugh. And now this Philip thing . . .” Harry lifted his chin. “Is there ice cream in the freezer?”

“We’re out of ice cream but, I mean, um, how do you feel about going out for dinner? Someplace special?”

“Wow, Knight. When you said special, you really meant it.”

The view overlooked an archway of fairy-lit cherry-trees, and chandeliers hung gloriously over the three sets of knives and forks either side of his starter platter.

Good thing Lake had insisted on changing into a button-up after eyeballing the nicely dressed Knight emerging from his room.

Even Harry had changed—albeit into his strawberry-print shirt.

“They have some of the best food in the city,” Knight murmured. “I only scored a table because I know the owner. I’ve invested heavily in the restaurant.”

Lake sat next to Knight, opposite Harry. Scoping the room, Harry leaned in. “This place is full of couples. We’re the only threesome in here.”

Knight stared at his beautifully designed beef carpaccio sprigged with parsley that Lake had been eying. “Yes, well. I’m all kinds of entertained by you joining us.”

Lake squeezed Knight’s knee under the table, eliciting a surprise thigh flex. Knight was so kind to Harry. Always boosted his morale. And when Lake had quietly worried Harry couldn’t afford this place, Knight had said he’d always intended to cover dinner.

Knight meant well. But the worried way Harry glanced around . . . were there too many reminders of not having a relationship?

“Is being here making you sad?” Lake asked. “The napkins are high thread-count linen if you need to cry, and if you run out, Knight’s shirt looks very crisp.”

Harry shook his head, giggling. “I’m fine. Just touched that you’d take me out to make me feel better.”

Lake hoped it worked, but he’d find other ways over the next week to keep Harry’s mind off Philip.

“This fish and lemon sculpture thing looks . . . delicate,” Lake said, prodding the base of his appetizer.

Knight scooped a delicious looking morsel of beef onto his fork, and Lake followed its path towards Knight’s mouth. The fork stopped moving.

“Would you like to try, Lake?”

Lake leaned close and parted his lips. Knight didn’t hesitate, and the cool slide of the fork on his bottom lip quickly gave way to an explosion of flavor on his tongue. The beef melted in his mouth, and he moaned like he’d never get enough.