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“Philip,” Harry said, capturing his attention. “Shall we see if they’ll play Bright Side of The Road and show this crowd what swing dancing is?”
Slight repulsion creased Philip’s mouth. He stepped back from Harry awkwardly. “I-I’ve eaten too much as well.”
Harry dropped the hand he’d offered. “Oh. Maybe later then?”
“We’re leaving soon.” Philip snagged his boyfriend by the arm, gave Harry a pathetic wave, and walked away.
Harry colored, his shoulders dropping an inch. He tried to smile. Lake moved toward him—
Knight reached him first. “I don’t know the Lindy Hop, but this song should be good for a waltz, if you’d dance with me?”
Harry straightened, surprised, and nodded. Knight drew him onto the dance floor.
Lake watched, smiling, eyes watering. God. Knight.
The kindest, most beautiful . . . Emotion lumped in his throat, making it hard to breathe. Butterflies filled the rest of him.
Knight’s gaze caught on him briefly, and Lake smiled. The purest gratitude he’d ever felt.
Knight danced better than he claimed, helped by Harry who took the lead, steering Knight’s every move, eyes twinkling with humor.
They danced multiple songs, and when they were done, Josh and West both took turns dancing with Harry too.
Knight filled himself a cup of water and drank near the pool. Lake joined him; music reached them, slightly muted and more tolerable.
“Philip was thoughtless,” Knight said, reading Lake’s vexation at watching Philip leave through the side gate. “If I didn’t already dislike him, I would now.”
“How could he be so mean? To Harry?”
Knight sipped and stared across the pool. “He’s a sweet guy. I felt tremendously for him.”
“Philip should have been mean to me. I’m the one who messed everything up.”
Knight’s jaw flexed. “I’m glad he wasn’t mean to you, Lake. I don’t know what I would have done if he was.”
Lake stuffed his hands into his pockets, pulled them out again, then fingered the cotton innards back into place. His cheeks were warm. His whole body was warm.
Cameron trudged over the grass, dragging his brother over to them.
After the obligatory catching up, Brandon looked at his Ask Austen sheet. “So, who are you two?”
Knight hesitated, and Lake held out a trembling hand. “Would you dance with me, Knightly?”
His eyebrow quirked. “Where everyone can see?”
Lake nodded, words stuck. He cleared his throat. “I’ve seen you dance, you’re quite good, and I don’t care if your son sees us.”
Knight handed Cameron his cup, then stepped up to Lake. He clasped Lake’s sweaty hand and drew him close. Warmth flowed over Lake from nose to tingling toe, and he gulped.
Knight poised his lips at Lake’s ear. “I don’t care if he sees us either.”
Lake toed out of his shoes in the living room and flopped lengthwise onto the couch, happily exhausted. Too many feelings. Too many confessions to tell Knight. Their dance had played in Lake’s mind all evening, and he couldn’t stop smiling.
Knight settled into the armchair. His large hands palmed the upholstered arms and his eyes lifted slowly to Lake.
Nervousness glittered in their depths, and it was difficult to breathe. Lake shoved a hand under his chin and propped himself on his elbow. Where did he start?
He needed to know this wasn’t all in his head.
“Thank you for helping me with Cameron’s party. I loved how enthusiastic he got, winning the contest tied with Josh.”
“Cameron’s kiss sure was enthusiastic.”
His wasn’t the only one.
The air between them thickened with anticipation. “I had a good time, Knight.” The best.
“Me too.” Knight’s mouth creased, a soft, sensuous curve to his smile.
God, would these shivers ever stop? “There was only one thing missing.”
Knight raised a brow.
“A crostini station.”
His look begged Lake not to joke, not now. There was more at stake. More that needed discussing. Lake nodded, swallowing, and Knight rubbed the arms of his chair. “Lake—”
The front door banged and a wash of wind swept through the house along with a grunted call for assistance.
Knight leaped to his feet, and Lake was two steps behind him. West staggered through the hall, cradling a sopping wet Harry. Pale and sporting a growing egg on his forehead, Harry’s head lolled back as he giggled. “It’ll be fine. I’ll be fine.”
West didn’t look like he agreed.
“Lake, ice pack in the freezer.” Knight took over and carried Harry to the couch.
Lake raced.
Lake pressed the ice pack against Harry’s wound, wincing in sympathy.
“He tripped. Hit his head on the side of the pool and fell in.”
West’s pants were wet. Had he jumped in to save him? Good man.
Poor Harry.
“We should take him to the emergency doctor,” Lake said. “He might have a concussion.”
“No!” Harry exclaimed, trying to sit up. Knight steered him back down.
“He only wanted to come here,” West said.
Harry groaned in pain. “That’s right. No doctor. I’m sure it looks worse than it is.”
For twenty minutes, Knight, West, and Lake took turns trying to convince him to go. Knight insisted he would pay if it was a matter of finance. Harry refused. “Just give me a night. If there’s still pain tomorrow, I’ll go.”
