Isn't It Bromantic (Bromance Book Club #4) - Lyssa Kay Adams Page 0,38
portion and returned to her spot on the couch. After tucking her legs beneath her, she dug in. The flavors exploded on her tongue. Spicy and sweet and sour. She could have made this for herself in Chicago, but the memories it conjured were too powerful. Like now. “This was the first thing your mom taught me to make.”
He looked over quickly. “It was?”
“Whenever she made it, I would eat so much that she finally offered to show me how to make it for myself.” She smiled into her bowl. “I started cooking it for my dad almost once a week after that. I think he got sick of it, but he didn’t want to hurt my feelings, so he ate it.”
Vlad tensed next to her. “He should’ve been making it for you.”
“I would’ve starved. He could barely fry an egg.”
“He should have learned like a normal father.”
She stirred her soup. “My father was never going to be that.”
“He could have if he’d tried.”
The stern gruffness of Vlad’s tone plucked a familiar chord of resentment, and the disharmony that hummed between them was an old song. Vlad had never hid his anger at her father for how often he was gone when she was a child, because Vlad had never understood the importance of her father’s job. Which was one of the reasons she didn’t want Vlad to know she was trying to finish her father’s story. He would never, could never, comprehend why it was so important to her.
The scrape of spoons against bowls was the only sound in the suddenly and uncomfortably quiet room.
“Let’s watch TV,” she suggested.
Vlad picked up the remote from where it rested between them and hit the power button. It was tuned to a local sports channel, which was showing a preview of that night’s game of the Nashville Legends, the team that Gavin, Yan, and Del played for.
“Do you ever go to their games?” Elena asked, grateful for the chance to change the subject to something safer.
“Once my season ends, yes,” Vlad answered. “I went to a few games last summer with the rest of the guys.”
“Do they ever come to yours?”
“Of course. We are very supportive of one another.”
He probably hadn’t meant it as a dig against her, because Vlad never said anything intentionally harsh, but it stung all the same. As if reading Elena’s mind, the sportscasters suddenly changed direction and began to talk about Vlad’s team.
“For the first time in franchise history, the Nashville Vipers have won the Western Conference finals and earned a spot in the Stanley Cup championship. The Vipers defeated the Vancouver Canucks last night four to three in game seven of the conference series.”
Elena reached for the remote.
“It’s okay,” Vlad said, covering her hand with his. The unexpected touch strummed an entirely different tune inside her, and she discreetly slid her hand from beneath his before she gave herself away. Vlad didn’t seem to notice. His eyes were locked on the TV.
“The Vipers will face the New York Rangers in game one of the Stanley Cup at seven o’clock Saturday night in New York. It’s a bittersweet victory for the Vipers and their fans without their top defenseman, Vlad Konnikov.”
Elena looked over at Vlad. He sat eerily still but for the up-and-down bobble of his Adam’s apple beneath the scruff of whiskers darkening his neck.
“Team sources tell us he is now recovering at home from surgery to repair his broken tibia—”
The chime of the doorbell sent Elena nearly out of her seat. Soup sloshed onto her hand. With a quiet curse, she set the bowl on the table next to her side of the couch and stood. “I’ll get it.”
She braced herself in case it was the Loners again, but when she glanced out the windows on either side of the front door, just one person stood on the other side.
A very beautiful woman.
Elena opened the door slowly, and the woman smiled brightly. Elena forgot for a moment that she was expected to smile back. She was Russian. Smiling at strangers was an American trait that still did not come naturally to her. “Can I help you?” she asked belatedly.
The woman’s smile faltered. “Oh, I’m sorry. Are you Elena?”
“Yes.”
“It’s so great to meet you finally,” the woman said. “I’m Michelle. I’m a neighbor of Vlad’s. The Loners told me you were back.”
Oh, God. This sophisticated woman was the mysterious Michelle? She wore a stylish outfit of white jeans and a sleeveless black blouse, and her hair