In the stall, Shane was equally dirty, and he was whistling cheerfully as he administered inoculations to the annoyed baby. “There you go, pal. That didn’t hurt much.”
Disgusted, Devin stared at him. It had been a hard, messy job, and it wasn’t over. The stall would have to be cleaned out and fresh hay spread, and the calf would need watching for the next couple of hours.
And there was Shane, kneeling in the muck, happy as a fool.
He’d been letting his hair grow lately, Devin noted, and he’d pulled a tail of it through the opening in the back of his grimy cap. His green eyes, shades paler than Devin’s, were dreamy, and his mouth was curved next to his dimple. He was sinfully good-looking, even for a MacKade. And he was the baby of the family, even younger than Devin, which meant that his older brothers had been honor-bound to kick his butt well and often.
As he continued to whistle, Devin gave serious thought to doing so now. “What the hell are you so happy about?”
“Nice healthy calf, from the look of him.” Despite the calf’s strong objections, Shane was holding him still and examining his eyes and ears. “Mama’s doing fine now. What’s not to be happy about?”
“She damn near broke my arm.”
“She couldn’t help it,” Shane said reasonably. “Besides, I told you I’d take that end. You insisted.”
“Yeah, right. This place is a mess.”
“Birthing’s not neat.” Shane stood and rubbed his filthy hands on his equally filthy jeans. He stepped out of the stall and leaned against the open door. “Besides, I thought this might sweat the mood out of you.” His grin was cocky, confident—all the more reason for Devin to want to punch it in. “Women trouble, right?”
“I don’t have women trouble.”
“That’s ’cause you don’t have any women—which, I might add, is an embarrassment to all of us. Why don’t you take one of mine? I’ve got plenty.”
Devin answered the suggestion with the crude and expected response before he stepped over to the sink to wash his hands.
“No, really. You know who I think would be good for you? Frannie Spader. She’s got all this red hair that just sort of tumbles all over the place, and the cutest smile. And when you get past the hair and the smile, she’s got a body that can make a man whimper. I don’t think you’ve done nearly enough whimpering lately.”
“I’ll pick my own women. I don’t need your damn castoffs.”
“Just being brotherly.” He slapped Devin on the back before reaching for the soap. “Of course, if you weren’t so damn brotherly yourself, you could probably be making time with little Cassie—”
It was a tribute to Devin’s speed, and Shane’s innocence, that the blow caught Shane solidly on the jaw and sent him flying. He landed hard, shook his head. Before he could ask Devin what the devil had gotten into him, he was assaulted by a hundred and seventy-five pounds of furious, frustrated male.
They were well matched, knew each other’s moves and rhythms. The barn echoed with grunts, the smack of flesh against bone, curses, as they rolled over the dusty concrete floor.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.”
The female voice, and the disdain in it, didn’t register on either of the combatants. Shane dropped his guard just long enough to be rewarded with a split lip, and answered it by bloodying Devin’s nose.
“But, darling, it looks like they’ve just gotten started.”
“I mean it, Rafe.” With a heavy sigh, Regan MacKade shifted the gurgling baby on her hip. “Break it up.”
“Women,” he muttered. But he would break it up his way, which was to dive into the fray, and get in a few licks of his own. Knowing he couldn’t enjoy himself for long, he managed to shove Shane aside and sit on Devin.
“Stay out of this.” Swiping at blood, Shane hauled himself to his knees. “It’s between him and me.”
“Maybe I will.” Rafe was having quite a bit of trouble holding Devin down. To prove he meant to, he covered Devin’s grimy face with the flat of his hand and gave it enough of a shove to have his head rapping against the concrete. “And maybe I want to play,” he added. “What’s it about?”
“Ask him.” Already cooling off, Shane flexed his sore hand. “I was just talking to him, and he punched me.”
“Well, I want to punch you half the time you’re talking to me,” Rafe said reasonably, and looked down to see that Devin’s eyes were clearing. He hadn’t meant to rap his brother’s head quite that hard. “What were you talking to him about?”
“Stuff. Women.”
Devin’s vision was coming back, and so was his temper. He started to heave Rafe aside when Regan’s firm, no-nonsense voice stopped him.
“That’s just enough of this ridiculous behavior, Devin. You should be ashamed of yourself.”