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

            Alexis looked around again. Her voice became a conspiratorial whisper. “Ask him about the Cheese Man.”



* * *



            * * *

                         Vlad was grumpy.

            The book club meeting left him eager to write but also annoyed for reasons he couldn’t pinpoint. And even that made him grumpy. Colton drove him home and helped him inside. They both stopped short in the entryway. Something smelled amazing.

            Tangy and rich, Vlad knew immediately what it was. Stewed cabbage. Another favorite. With one inhale, he was home. He smelled cold fingers wrapped around a bowl of hot soup. Aching muscles and a clean T-shirt. Howling wind and a crackling fire. His mother’s hug and his father’s laughter. Elena sitting at a table helping him with his math homework after practice.

            “Whatever she’s making, I’m eating some,” Colton said, taking off down the hallway.

            Vlad bristled. He didn’t want Colton to stay. He wanted a moment alone with his wife before heading upstairs to write. And that thought made him grumpier. He couldn’t think about Elena like that, as his wife. But when he entered the kitchen, he stopped short again at the scene that greeted him. Elena stood at the island with her hair coiled on top of her head, which was bent to study a piece of paper, a pen poised in her hand. Sometimes, her fresh-faced beauty caught him so off guard that he forgot to breathe. Like now.

            A sudden memory hit him hard.

            “Elena, are you staying for dinner?”

            His mother stirred the sautéing bacon and onions. Elena looked up from the counter, where she’d been finishing an essay for her literature class. “No, thank you. My dad promised he’d be home tonight.”

            Vlad met his mama’s eyes over Elena’s head. Her father’s promises were as reliable as a Soviet-era nuclear reactor.

            Mama kept her tone even. “Why don’t you take some home, just in case?”

            Elena returned the empty bowl the next day. Her father had broken his promise. Again.

            Vlad cleared his throat. Elena looked up. Her eyes flashed with a welcoming warmth for a moment before withdrawing into cool distance again. It seemed forced, as if she’d reminded herself to do it.

            “Hey,” she said. “I made stewed cabbage.”

            “I know. It smells incredible.”

            “It should be done by now. Are you hungry?”

            “Starving.”

            “Yo,” Colton whistled. “You guys are doing the Russian thing again.”

            Elena switched to English as she looked at Colton. “Are you hungry?”

            “Hell yes.”

            “How come you never eat at home?” Vlad grumbled, crutching to a seat at the island.

            “Because I don’t have an Elena.”

            Neither did Vlad. Not for long, at least. And suddenly grumpy became downright cross.

            “Will you fix a plate for Vlad?” Elena asked Colton. “I’m trying to finish this grocery list for the party.”

            “Didn’t you buy out the entire store last time?” Colton joked from the stove. He raised the plate to his face. “Goddamn, this smells good.”

            He carried it to Vlad and set it down. “You need a bib, little butt?”

            Vlad muttered a Russian curse word. Elena looked up sharply. “Vlad, be nice.”

            After Colton filled his own plate and sat down, Elena capped her pen and faced them with her hands on her hips.

            “Vlad.”

            He looked up from his plate. “What?”

            “I really, really need some tvorog.”

            “Um, okay. Maybe we can find a store.”

            “Vlad.”