“Spence is showing Mikhail the barbecue pit he built,” Natasha told her and set a heaping platter of pancakes on the table. “They’ll stand and study and make men noises. You were comfortable in the night?”

Sydney thought of Mikhail and struggled not to blush. “Yes, thank you. Oh, please,” she started to protest when Yuri piled pancakes on her plate.

“For energy,” he said, and winked.

Before she could think how to respond, a small curly-haired bullet shot through the back door. Yuri caught him on the fly and hauled the wriggling bundle into his arms.

“This is my grandson, Brandon. He is monster. And I eat monsters for breakfast. Chomp, chomp.”

The boy of about three was wiry and tough, squirming and squealing on Yuri’s lap. “Papa, come watch me ride my bike. Come watch me!”

“You have a guest,” Nadia said mildly, “and no manners.”

Resting his head against Yuri’s chest, Brandon gave Sydney a long, owlish stare. “You can come watch me, too,” he invited. “You have pretty hair. Like Lucy.”

“That’s a very high compliment,” Natasha told her. “Lucy is a cat. Miss Hayward can watch you later. She hasn’t finished her breakfast.”

“You watch, Mama.”

Unable to resist, Natasha rubbed a hand over her son’s curls. “Soon. Go tell your daddy he has to go to the store for me.”

“Papa has to come.”

Knowing the game, Yuri huffed and puffed and stuck Brandon on his shoulders. The boy gave a shout of laughter and gripped tight to Yuri’s hair as his grandfather rose to his feet.

“Daddy, look! Look how tall I am,” Brandon was shouting as they slammed out of the screen door.

“Does the kid ever stop yelling?” Alex wanted to know.

“You didn’t stop yelling until you were twelve,” Nadia told him, and added a flick with her dishcloth.

Feeling a little sorry for him, Sydney rose to pour more coffee into his mug herself. He snatched her hand and brought it to his lips for a smacking kiss. “You’re a queen among women, Sydney. Run away with me.”

“Do I have to kill you?” Mikhail asked as he strolled into the kitchen.

Alex only grinned. “We can arm wrestle for her.”

“God, men are such pigs,” Rachel observed as she walked in from the opposite direction.

“Why?” The question came from a pretty, golden-haired girl who popped through the doorway, behind Mikhail.

“Because, Freddie, they think they can solve everything with muscles and sweat instead of their tiny little brains.”

Ignoring his sister, Mikhail pushed plates aside, sat down and braced an elbow on the table. Alex grinned at the muttered Ukrainian challenge. Palms slapped together.

“What are they doing?” Freddie wanted to know.

“Being silly.” Natasha sighed and swung an arm around Freddie’s shoulder. “Sydney, this is my oldest, Freddie. Freddie, this is Miss Hayward, Mikhail’s friend.”