Isn't It Bromantic (Bromance Book Club #4) by Lyssa Kay Adams

            “Could you maybe bring in my bag?”

            “Yes,” she said, nodding with far more enthusiasm this time. “Yes, I can do that.”

            He crutch-hopped up the steps as she retrieved his duffel bag, and by the time he made it inside, she was already behind him, hovering once again.

            “Okay, so do you want to go straight upstairs or maybe sit on the couch for a little while?”

            He inched toward the staircase. “My bed is better. More room to elevate my leg.”

            “Right. Of course. That was stupid.”

            He hopped up the first step, and she followed closely behind. He was breathing hard and sweating by the time he reached the top.

            “Now what?” Elena said behind him.

            “Now I ice it for a little while.”

            “I will get some after we get you settled in bed.”

            Just hearing the word bed out of her mouth made him want to groan. Except for the hospital room, which really didn’t count, they hadn’t been in a bedroom together for any significant time in years. And even then, they’d shared the space for mere moments. And not for what husbands and wives usually shared a bedroom for. This was going to be torture.

            The minute he sat on the mattress, Elena moved in between his splayed legs to take his crutches. “I’ll lean them here,” she said, oblivious to the effect she was having on him by just standing. “That way you can reach them.”

            “Thanks,” he grunted.

            He reached behind him for a pillow to put under his leg. Elena raced forward. “Let me do it.”

            She bent over him, and he must have made another one of those tortured noises, because she leaped back suddenly. “Oh my God, did I hurt you?”

            “Nope. Just trying to get comfortable.” His voice scraped like rusty skates on pond ice.

            “Lean back so we can move your leg,” she said.

            He obeyed, mostly to get as far away from her skin as possible, because his hands were developing a mind of their own. He lifted his leg then as she plumped the pillow for him to rest it on. “Is that good?” She looked over at him.

            He gulped. “Thank you.”

            “Okay. I’ll go get the ice.”

            She raced from the room, and Vlad clunked his head against the headboard. He wasn’t going to survive this. Five minutes at home with her, and his mind was already occupied with thoughts of things that would definitely not help him heal.

            In his leg or his heart.

            She returned a moment later, panting as if she’d bounded up the stairs two at a time. She carried a plastic bag full of ice cubes and a thin kitchen towel. “Do we just put the ice on the brace, or on the skin?”

            “On the skin,” he said, sitting up. “I can open the brace—”

            She waved his hands away. “I can do it. I need to learn how.”

            “Icing my leg probably won’t be one of the things I need help with.” He tried to inject some levity to his tone but failed. It came out stressed.

            She straightened and apologized. Again. “You’re right. I’m being annoying, aren’t I?”

            “No.” Vlad took the ice and set it beside his hip. “Elena, listen.”

            She gulped and crossed her arms across her chest in that same protective pose that she’d adopted yesterday at the hospital, as if she were afraid of what he was about to say. He couldn’t blame her. He’d been an asshole yesterday.

            “You don’t have to do every little thing for me.”

            “Okay. Right. I’m sorry.”

            “And you don’t have to apologize all the time.”

            “Right.” She laughed with a nervous little puff of air.