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Lake grabbed a baked artichoke and parmesan crostini and moaned into a crunchy bite. “You’re the best, Knightly.”
“I do try, Emerett.”
Lake swallowed at his first name. It wasn’t something anyone else used, just Knight, and only on occasion. But when he did . . . it always jolted him.
“What about this Harry, then?”
Lake finished his mouthful. “Right. Well, he’s staying with that cousin he danced with.”
“Martin.”
“Since Harry has decided to stay in town, he’s worried about wearing out his welcome sleeping on Martin’s couch.”
“You think I should offer him one of my rooms?”
“He is your nephew-in-law.”
Knight eyed him closely, gaze rolling over Lake like a shiver. “Why do you want him here, Lake?”
Lake looked everywhere but at Knight. “Just looking out for Taylor’s new family.”
Knight barked out a laugh. “This is about that romantic meddling.”
“These crostini are epic.”
Garfield rounded the wooden recipe stand with a heavy purr, and Knight caught her before she fished for some crostini of her own. He tucked her against his chest and patted her with a wry smile at Lake. “I suppose if you’re here, it’ll be good to have constant distraction.”
Crumbs tumbled out of his mouth. “I’m not that bad.”
“Who said anything about bad?”
Knight’s hair and eyes were like wet wood in spring. He exuded freshness. All those brisk morning walks he took. The outdoor air clung to him.
Usually, it was exceptionally easy to breathe around him. Not so much now.
Garfield jumped from Knight’s arms, landing on the tiled floor with a kathump.
Their gazes unlatched, and Lake frowned. Knight always had a coolly powerful presence, but with Taylor between them, Lake had been buffered from his full magnificent force. It was . . . was . . .
Something to get used to. “So, Harry can stay?”
“Harry can stay.”
“Excellent.” Lake clasped Knight’s shoulder and squeezed, fingertips grazing his warm neck. “He’s arriving at six.”
A resigned chuckle vibrated through his palm. “Whatever schemes you have in mind, remember: choosing is better than being chosen for.”
For the first time, a curious shyness heated Lake’s neck as he greeted Knight’s colleagues and neighbors. He had never attended one of these barbecues without Taylor, and Knight’s gaze on him from the honeysuckle-choked gazebo where he manned the grill didn’t ease his shyness.
Lake straightened his shoulders and plucked his heat-soaked T-shirt from his chest. He was no feeble man, and Knight had fun friends. Easy to chat with.
Knight flipped a burger, but his focus never wavered from Lake.
A funny little shiver skipped through Lake’s body, pooling in the soles of his feet. Each step in his flip flops riddled him with electricity, and he quashed a horrifyingly squeaky laugh. Knight was far too curious about Lake’s matchmaking plans with Harry and Phillip. That’s all.
Well keep watching, Knight. He’d have them falling for one another before the last hamburger was grilled.
Now, where was Harry? Philip would be arriving any moment.
Ah, there on the bench in the shade, smearing copious amounts of sunscreen over his face. Close to the gazebo and Knight’s prying gaze. Another silly shiver.
Nothing for it but to forge ahead, prove his magic meddling abilities.
Lake threaded through guests and slung himself on the worn slats next to Harry, on the side that offered the best view of Knight. He liked reading the man’s expressions, being aware of what he might be thinking.
He dragged his gaze back to Harry. “Any more sunscreen, and you’ll mask all your cute freckles.”
Harry chortled. “You’re the second person to call my freckles cute.”
“Who was the first?”
Harry blushed—impossible to see through the sunscreen, but his neck looked close to catching fire. “Martin, when he drove us back to his place after Taylor’s wedding.”
Harry had been staying in Knight’s guestroom for a week. His grandma came up in conversation a lot, and so did Martin, which said a lot about his character.
Cute, and he cared about family. A sweet, ceaselessly happy guy who liked everyone. A good guy.
Perfect for Philip.
“Your cousin’s right. They’re one of your standout features, and you should totally flaunt them.”
“I’m not really the flaunting kind. And if I don’t wear SPF 50, I crisp in minutes.”
Lake hummed in sympathy, and then grinned. Across the yard, Philip emerged from the patio door. God, he must be dying in a long-sleeved button-down and jeans. They looked good on him, though. Pity about the turquoise alligator shoes.
Still, Harry was the type to overlook odd details, notably the gallons of polish Philip must have used.
“Philip, over here!”
Philip’s gaze tracked him and his step quickened.
Nervous excitement churned in Lake’s gut, and he glanced over at Knight, who shook his head with wry amusement.
Lake stirred restlessly on the bench, then returned his attention to Harry.
“ . . . Martin’s a big reader—me, not so much. But I love movies, and I left a list of classics for him to watch, starting with Mansfield Park. Gosh, I hope he likes it. Not everyone likes it, what with the cousins marrying . . .” He bit his lip. “It’s a pity he couldn’t come today. I hope he’s not too sick. Maybe I should text him.”
