Summary:

Shane basks in Ilya's decision to come to the cottage for all of thirty seconds before panic sets in... Excerpt: Yuna blinked at him. "You can't just go. You’re still recovering Shane. You’re in a sling for goodness sake.” “No, I know. I…” he cleared his throat. “I know. It’s just…” he trailed off, unable to come up with a single valid reason for the nonsense he was currently spouting. Well, nothing other than all the things he couldn’t say. Rozanov was coming! To Shane’s cottage. Everything on the precipice of changing when he didn’t have any vodka in the cabinet. In the freezer? The refrigerator? Where the hell was the vodka supposed to go? His dad sometimes drank vodka…why didn’t Shane ever pay attention to where it went? He should know this shit! His man was Russian!