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

            When he entered the kitchen, the guys all stood and greeted him with hugs and how are ya? and you look like shit. Which was not true. He looked the opposite of shit.

            The Loners repeated the greetings with much nicer sentiments. Even Claud lost her scowl.

            Andrea and Linda rose from their seats and practically ran to him. They each hugged him, and Elena met his eyes over Linda’s shoulder. He smiled tiredly at her, and Elena was momentarily distracted by the warm familiarity of it.

            “Breakfast is done,” she said, heading back toward the stove. “Do you want some tea?”

            “I’m good for now. Don’t rush around.” He crutched to a seat at the island. Mack and Noah got him settled and moved another stool closer so he could elevate his leg. Elena quickstepped to the freezer and removed one of the baggies of ice she’d filled last night. She grabbed a towel and returned to his side as he ripped open the Velcro straps.

            “How is it this morning?” She leaned over him to study the incision. It was still reddish with green and purple bruising forming around it. She looked up. “Is it supposed to do that?”

            “Bruising is normal.” He reached for the ice and smiled when she handed it over.

            “You’re sure? Maybe we should take a picture of it and send it to Madison.”

            “If it gets worse by tonight, we can do that,” he said calmly.

            “Maybe we should have iced it again last night.”

            “It’s fine, Elena. Don’t worry.”

            The silence in the kitchen suddenly became obvious. Elena looked up to find everyone watching with bemused expressions. Everyone but Claud, who looked murderous.

            “What?” Elena asked.

            “Nothing,” Colton said quickly. Too quickly. He met Malcolm’s eyes, and they both looked away. Those damn silent conversations were becoming really annoying.

            “You were speaking Russian,” Noah finally said.

            “Oh yes. We tend to do that.” They slipped in and out of it so naturally with each other that she hardly noticed. “Sorry. We will try to stick to English when you are around.”

            “I think it’s cute,” Andrea said.

            Claud muttered something under her breath, and Elena’s eye started to twitch. She turned to Vlad and switched back to Russian. “Did you hear that? By midnight, I’m going to break out in pulsing boils.”

            Vlad pressed his fist to his mouth to smother a laugh.

            Elena pointed to the platter of pancakes. “Who is hungry?”

            Colton rubbed his hands together. “Hot damn, I am.”

            “Everyone fix a plate,” she said. “I hope there is enough. I can make another batch if we need it. We also have the quiche that Andrea brought—”

            The feel of Vlad’s hand on her back brought an abrupt end to her nervous speech. She looked down at him, and his warm gaze melted her insides. “It’s enough, Lenochka. Get your food and eat.”

            She nodded because it was the safest thing she could think of in response, the only thing that wouldn’t reveal that the feel of his fingers on her spine had left her breathless. She quickly fixed his plate and set it in front of him with a fork.

            “This looks delicious,” he murmured in Russian. “You didn’t have to do this.”

            “I wasn’t sure if they’d still be good with the gluten-free flour.”

            “They look perfect.”

            “Sour cream or syrup?”

            He lifted a single eyebrow. Right. She knew the answer to that. She handed him the sour cream and waited for him to plop a large dollop on top of his pancakes. The room grew quiet again, and she looked up to find everyone eyeing them with disgust.

            “Did he just put sour cream on his pancakes?” Colton asked, fork paused halfway to his mouth.

            “Russians put sour cream on everything,” Vlad said, adding a handful of blueberries on top. “This is how we eat syrniki.”