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“What are you doing?”
Lake draped a yellow and green smiley-face shirt over his shoulder. Where was the strawberry-print one? “You didn’t see anything, Knight. Have we ever used our fireplace?”
“Our?”
Lake looked at him over his shoulder. “Rent. I should start paying you. We’ll chat after you start the fire.”
“What’s gotten into you?”
“The same as every other day the last year. Nothing.”
Regret immediately chased Lake’s snarky reply.
Wooden floorboards groaned as Knight shifted in his peripheral vision, and the hairs on the back of Lake’s neck prickled at the sudden thickening quiet.
Lake rifled through Harry’s clothes with fervor. “Ah ha!” He pulled out the strawberry-print shirt. “He’ll thank me one day.”
“Leave it, Lake. Harry is cute enough without you changing his style.”
“You think so?”
“Yes, and those shirts are part of his personality. He suits them.”
Lake plucked the shirts off his shoulder, inspected them, and then Knight. “I want to help him make good impressions.”
“He makes them. Especially since you’ve coaxed him out of his initial bashfulness.”
“Knight!” Lake said, shocked.
“What?”
“That was a compliment. You never compliment me.”
Knight laughed, and coffee splashed over the edge of his mug. He sipped. “You’ve a short memory.”
“Being beautiful doesn’t count. That’s genetics. Nothing I’ve earned.”
A soft smile pulled at Knight’s lips and his eyes danced. He took a slow sip of his coffee. “Put those shirts down, and I’ll tell you something else you’ll like.”
Lake dropped the shirts and marched to Knight, taking his spot against the doorframe. He folded his arms and waited.
Knight indulged in another sip, a playful smirk lighting his face. “I ran into Martin the other day.”
“Where does this guy work? Harry ran into him too.”
“A block from my office. We ducked into Tranquil for a coffee.”
Lake nodded slowly. “Did you give him more advice on stock funds?”
“I gave him advice, but not on stocks.”
Lake’s stomach knotted. He wasn’t liking this at all.
He stole Knight’s coffee; Knight barely blinked.
“He told me he cares about Harry.”
“So he should,” Lake muttered into the mug. “They’re cousins.”
“They’re more than that. Come on, Lake. You know Harry is in love with Martin.”
Lake bristled. “I do not.”
“Ridiculous. You figured it out at the barbecue.”
Lake picked invisible lint from his shirt. “I mean, sure, Harry had a crush on Martin. But love? Neither of us knows that.”
“You don’t seem thrilled. I thought you were all about Harry and Philip finding romance.”
“With each other.”
Knight snorted. “That was never going to happen.”
Knight had no idea. He wasn’t in tune with Harry and Philip like Lake was. “What advice did you give lying Martin then?”
“Lying Martin?”
“He lied about being sick as an excuse not to come to our barbecue.”
Knight’s eyes shuttered. “Our?”
Lake glared over the mug, exasperated. “Martin or rent, which do you want to discuss?”
“You’re right, he lied about being sick. He admitted as much to me over coffee. He was grappling with the magnitude of his feelings for Harry and needed the space. Seeing Harry again punched everything into perspective. Harry is the man he’s in love with. He doesn’t care that they’re loosely related, and I supported him.”
“Loosely?”
“Lake . . .”
“You don’t make sense. You said you wouldn’t get involved with the forbidden yourself, so why would you encourage Martin and Harry to?”
“They like each other, that’s the difference.”
“So if your crush liked you back, you’d go for it?”
Knight hesitated, and that said everything.
“You would.” Lake shook his head incredulously. “You said it’d be better if nothing happened.”
“Maybe I’m over the concept of forbidden.” Knight pushed off the doorway, his body crowding Lake. Every inch of skin pebbled with goosebumps. “Maybe I encouraged Martin, because I wanted to encourage myself.”
“I don’t believe it,” Lake said, voice cracking. “You’re too levelheaded to do anything off-limits.”
Fingers drummed over the doorframe above his head and Knight leaned close. “It feels like you’re baiting me, Emerett Lakewood.”
His full name slid through Lake with an intimate shiver.
“Baiting! Ha! It’s not like Paul’s here for you to prove the point.”
“You’re here.” Knight curled a gentle finger under Lake’s chin and Lake met his intense gaze. “My son’s best friend.”
Shivers reigned.
Knight was determined to prove a point.
Their chests rose and fell, breaths mingling. Lake clutched the mug against his sternum.
The air thinned, yet Knight didn’t move. His gaze dropped to Lake’s lips and lingered.
His grip on the frame shifted and those beautiful brown eyes met Lake’s again with a muted groan.
Lake squeezed the handle of the mug and whispered, “Far too level-headed.”
Knight pressed a soft finger against his mouth, then traced the outline of Lake’s lips.
Knight’s mouth pinched together in a silent curse.
And then it happened.
Knight pressed against him, stomach against the coffee mug, leg nestled between his with tantalizing friction at his crotch.
One hand fell from the doorframe and cupped the crook between Lake’s neck and shoulder; the other tightened at his waist. Knight’s pinkie slipped under the hem of Lake’s polo and Lake felt it like a plug to a socket.
