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

            Vlad let out a long breath and rubbed the pads of his thumbs up and down the tense strains of her neck.

            “I just stared at it, like I couldn’t understand the word. I almost called him to ask if he was serious. But then I just snapped into action. I went through all the steps. Dug out his hard drive. Burned his journals. Grabbed my bag and went to the motel.” She picked at her cuticles. “I waited and waited and waited. But he never showed up. I waited for him in that hotel room for three days, too scared to even go to the vending machine. I nearly starved.”

            Vlad’s fingers stalled again. “Christ, Elena. Why didn’t you ever tell me that?”

            The same reason she hid all her notes in the bottom drawer of her dresser upstairs. Why she kept it a secret that she was trying to finish her father’s story. And why she knew she had to leave him when every part of her longed to stay right there in the warm cradle of his body. To protect him.

            With a forced yawn, she sat forward. “I need to clean the kitchen.”

            His hands cupped her shoulders and tugged her back again. His voice was as gruff as his hands were gentle. “Your father never should have put you in that position. It was selfish. You deserved better, Lenochka.”

            “Better than what?”

            “Better than him.”

            “But I had you.”

            Vlad’s breathing grew heavy with the weight of his pause.

            Hers rushed out in a single gush when his lips lowered to the top of her head. “You still do,” he murmured.

            Elena rose to her feet and slowly turned in the opening of his legs. He gazed up at her, his eyes smoldering with the same something from when she’d hugged him earlier that week. It lit a fire low in her belly that burned long into another sleepless night.





CHAPTER THIRTEEN





Elena set her alarm for extra early the next morning so she could tackle the rest of the cooking for the party. She showered and dressed quickly. When she walked out of her room, she discovered the door to Vlad’s bedroom open. A quick peek inside revealed an empty bed.

            She found him in the kitchen, back to her as he filled a mug with one hand, the other holding on to a single crutch. The other was propped against the island. Neighbor Cat was happily scarfing down her treat by the pantry.

            Elena cleared her throat to announce herself. Vlad looked over his shoulder. “Hey,” he said, a tired lilt to his voice and a shy smile on his lips.

            “Good morning.”

            “I made you some tea.” He nodded with his chin toward another mug on the island.

            “Thank you.” She slid the mug closer to her. “You should have waited for me, though.”

            “Why?” He turned around, putting the bulk of his weight on his crutch. She winced in anticipation as he lowered his broken leg all the way to the floor.

            She let out a breath. “That’s why.”

            “I’m supposed to start putting weight on it, remember?”

            Yeah. But that didn’t make her any less worried. He leaned back against the counter and raised his mug to his lips. Over the rim, he met her gaze and smiled with his eyes alone. Her heart jumpy-jumped clear into her throat. Mornings were an intimate routine they had yet to settle into, and this was why. Because it was moments like this, like last night, that would be hardest for her to give up and forget. Even with ten feet of distance between them, it felt suddenly too close, the kitchen too small. His hands dwarfed the mug, and as he raised it to his lips again, the short sleeves of his T-shirt protested against the bulge of his bicep. If she pressed her nose into the space where his pulse pounded in his neck, she knew he would smell like warm skin and sleepy man.

            “How can I help today?” he asked, interrupting her ogling.

            She shook her head. “Just relax and take care of your leg.”

            “I can’t relax if I know you’re working yourself to the bone in the kitchen.”

            “I’ll try to rein myself in for your benefit.”

            “Thank you.” He smiled over his mug again.