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An eager nod.
Knight was right. No surprise there.
“Exchange the crime you’re wearing for some running gear. We’re leaving in five.”
“Oh, I don’t actually run. That is, I’ve never really tried.” Harry gulped, nodding with forced enthusiasm. “No time like the present?”
When they’d both changed, Lake ushered Harry toward the front door.
The bell chimed while they were tightening their laces, ringing in Lake’s sensitive ears.
He opened the door to a man poised to press the buzzer again. Rounded face gently framed by a cowlick and wavy blond locks, and shy but attentive eyes.
A breathy gasp came from behind Lake, and Harry lurched to his side.
So this must be Martin.
Forget hellos. Martin’s gaze strayed to Harry and settled there. Delight shone in his eyes, and Martin found his voice. “Hey, Harry.”
Harry stepped onto the threshold and embraced him. “What are you doing here?”
Martin pulled back with a glance at Lake and patted the laptop bag slung over his shoulder. “Knightly invited me. He’s giving me a tutorial in setting up stock funds.”
“How are you feeling?” Harry’s gaze roamed fastidiously over Martin’s face for signs of lingering illness.
“Feeling? Oh, I didn’t make the barbecue. I had a . . . migraine.”
Martin’s cheek twitched. Lying.
Lake frowned. This was not good. Last year, he’d dated a liar, and their relationship had quickly spiraled out of control. Taylor, away with Amy, had ended up calling his dad in the middle of the night to collect Lake from the police station after he’d been framed for burglary.
Lake wasn’t easily frightened, but that cool fall night he’d cried in Knight’s arms. On brisk evenings since, he recalled Knight’s firm strokes along his back and his carefully-worded concern in Lake’s ear like a ticklish ghost.
“. . . did you watch Mansfield Park?” Harry asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet, sounding as excited about Austen as Cameron was.
“No,” Martin said, grimacing. “Not yet.”
Harry stopped bouncing. “Maybe another time.”
Lake hated that Harry was bummed about it, but he was convinced he could do better than dating a liar and ending up in a steel holding cell.
He hooked an arm around Harry’s and urged him past Martin. “We’re off for a run. Knight’s in the kitchen.”
Harry let out a surprised ‘bye’ and watched over his shoulder as Martin entered the house.
Lake didn’t let him go until the gate latched shut behind them.
Their run was short and labored, and Lake spent most of it worried that Harry might collapse.
But A+ for effort. He admired Harry’s diligence.
When they returned home, Martin and Knight had vacated the kitchen for the back yard, and Lake and Harry went to their respective bathrooms and showered.
Freshened, Lake trundled downstairs to Harry, who’d tied his towel around his head.
Harry poured them water from the carafe, leaned against the counter, and smiled shyly. He’d been far too puffed to chat on their run, but Lake had felt his burning need to.
“So, what’d you think of Martin?”
Lake lifted his chilled glass, and shrugged. “He barely spoke.”
“Come on . . . you have eyes. He’s gorgeous, right?”
“You know what struck me? For close relatives, you don’t look anything alike.”
Harry mumbled into a sip. “He takes more after his dad, I guess.”
“Are you close with your uncle?”
Harry frowned. “You think the cousin thing is wrong, then?”
Lake hesitated. Harry was soft-hearted and liked to please, but he certainly wasn’t stupid. The truth was, Lake couldn’t quite shake how forbidden it felt.
On the other hand, he was a firm believer in love is love. “Not wrong, exactly. But you’d need to make sure you both feel the same. There will be some who won’t like it.”
Harry’s shoulders sagged and he blinked rapidly.
Lake strangled his water glass and cleared the sympathetic lump in his throat. He felt for Harry, but he was young. How would his soft heart cope exposed to harsh criticism? Family rejection? “Maybe open yourself to other possibilities? If nothing compares to what you feel for Martin . . . Just be sure first?”
Harry nodded, towel slipping. “You’re right. But Martin is special. He’s clever and good. He cares about his family, and he’s sensible about his career and finances. He’s a younger Knightly. Maybe not quite Knightly, but very good.”
Lake chuckled. “Unfair to compare him with Knight. No one’s as good as he is.”
“Why doesn’t he have a partner?” Harry said in a low voice, like he might be overheard. “He’s the whole package. Someone should snap him up.”
“When you’re that good looking and self-sufficient, you get to do the snapping. I bet no one’s good enough.” Lake’s phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it free. “It’s from Philip.” Lake grinned. “‘I liked Sunday, seeing you, meeting your friend.’”
Harry’s towel fell off his head and he raced to retrieve it. “Me?”
“You should have traded numbers.”
“Oh. Really? I should have?”
