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

            “I hated your last song. It was vulgar.”

            “I do aim to please, ma’am.”

            “Ma!” Linda said, rushing forward. “Be nice.”

            “Don’t mind her,” Elena said to Colton. “She’s just mad that someone turned her hair into snakes.”

            Malcolm and Mack exchanged grins.

            “Coffee?” Elena asked to no one in particular.

            “Thank you,” Linda said. “We can get it ourselves.”

            “Well, I am Andrea Sampson,” Andrea said, setting the quiche on the counter. She held out her hand to Colton. “And I’m a huge fan of yours.”

            Colton picked up her hand and brushed his lips across her knuckles. “It’s a pleasure, darlin’.”

            “Don’t encourage her,” Claud scoffed. “She got hit on last night at Silver Sneakers. Now she thinks she’s Brigitte fucking Bardot.”

            “Who is Brigitte Bardot?” Noah asked.

            Claud hissed through her teeth as she accepted a cup of coffee from Linda. Then she plunked down on a stool at the island and muttered something about goddamned millennials.

            Elena returned to the pancake dough and began to roll it into individual cakes. “What is Silver Sneakers?”

            “Aerobics for people whose joints crack in the morning,” Linda said.

            “Hey, I took that class by accident once,” Colton said. “It kicked my ass.”

            “How did you take it by accident?” Malcolm asked.

            “I had the times wrong. I thought I was going into Six-Pack Abs. I was super confused when all these old ladies walked in. I was too embarrassed to walk out.”

            “Old ladies?” Claud scoffed.

            “It’s a compliment,” Colton said. “They ran circles around me. I’ve had a thing for older women ever since then, to be honest.” He winked again at Andrea, who preened and smiled.

            Elena carried the dough cakes to the stove and heated a skillet with oil. Claud snorted. “What’re you making?”

            “Syrniki,” Elena said. “Russian cheese pancakes. Do you know what pancakes are?”

            Claud muttered under her breath, and Elena could’ve sworn something crawled up the back of her neck.

            Elena set each cake in the skillet and put on the cover. They needed about five to seven minutes on each side to get puffy. As they cooked, she walked to the fridge and pulled out sour cream and blueberries for toppings. Probably only she and Vlad would use those. In the pantry, she found powdered sugar and syrup for everyone else.

            “So, Elena,” Noah said in a tone that conveyed some kind of preplanned speech. “The guys and I were talking, and we’d like to help out as much as possible. Maybe put together a meal schedule or help out with his rehab appointments—”

            Claud snorted. “Why are you talking to her about it? She’s leaving again in a few days.”

            Elena lifted the cover of the skillet and flipped the pancakes. “I’m not, actually. I’m staying for as long as he needs me.”

            Claud sputtered like a rusty tractor. “You can’t stay.”

            “Why not?” Elena replaced the lid. About five more minutes, and they’d be done.

            “Because . . . because. You can’t. He needs to move on with his life, and he can’t do that with you here.”

            Elena turned quickly so no one could see the reaction on her face.

            “Ma!” Linda snapped.

            “Well, now, that was downright harsh,” Colton said in a deceptively dulcet tone.

            Elena busied herself with gathering plates from the cupboard. She heard Mack rise from the floor.

            “Seems to me it should be up to Vlad to decide whether he wants Elena here or not,” Mack said, “and he’s agreed to it.”