Still on top of him, Rafe looked down and grinned. “Yeah, Dev, you should be ashamed of yourself.”
“Get the hell off me.”
“You going to be a good boy?” With a laugh, Rafe leaned over and kissed him. He was quick, and agile, and sprang away before Devin could retaliate.
“A fine thing,” Regan said from the doorway of the barn, making Devin think twice about jumping Shane again. She stood there in tailored slacks and a crisp spring blazer, a wide-ey
ed baby on her hip, a polished leather shoe tapping. “Wrestling in the barn like a couple of bad-tempered boys. Look at the two of you—you’re filthy, bloody, and your clothes are torn.”
“He started it.” Wisely, Shane held back a laugh, and tried to look humble. “Honest, Regan, I was just defending myself.”
“I’m not interested in who started it,” Regan said regally, and deflated her brother-in-law with one snippy look. “I believe we were invited to dinner.”
“Oh, yeah.” Shane had forgotten about that. “We had a little trouble with a birthing. Breech calf. We just got finished.”
“Oh.” Instantly Regan was all concern. Tossing back a curtain of honey-brown hair, she hurried inside. “Is it all right?”
“Just dandy. Hey, Nate.”
“No, you don’t.” Even as the cooing baby held out his arms to his uncle, Regan turned aside. “You’re filthy. The two of you go clean up.”
Devin eyed Shane narrowly, then hissed out a breath. “I felt like pounding somebody. You were available. You also have a big mouth.”
Shane dabbed at the blood on his lip. “You sucker-punched me.”
“So?”
“So I owe you one.”
“That’s it boys, kiss and make up.”
When both Shane and Devin turned on Rafe, Regan gritted her teeth. “Stop right there. If nobody punches anyone else, I’ll cook dinner.”
“Good deal,” Shane decided.
“But you’re not coming in the kitchen until… What’s that noise?”
“What noise?” Devin unclenched his ready fist and listened. The whimpering sound was soft, barely audible over little Nate’s babbling. Homing in on it, he strode halfway down the barn and looked into another stall. “Looks like it’s the day for birthing. Ethel’s having her babies.”
“Ethel.” Like a frantic papa, Shane bolted down the barn, and all but fell into the stall beside his laboring pet. “Oh, honey, why didn’t you call me? Jeez, she’s already had two.”
“Fred’s probably out passing out cigars.” At the entrance to the stall, Rafe leaned over and kissed his wife, then his son. “I know just how he feels.”
Seeing the panic in Shane’s eyes, Devin shook his head. They’d witnessed or assisted in countless births with the stock over the years, but that meant nothing now. This was Ethel, and she was as close to a true love as Shane had ever known. He stepped in, crouched down beside his brother.
“She’s doing fine.” He hooked an arm over Shane’s shoulders.
“You think?”
“Sure. She’s a MacKade, isn’t she?” Devin glanced up at Regan and winked. “MacKade women are the best there is.”
After the birthing, the cleaning up, the cooking and the celebrating of Fred and Ethel’s six healthy puppies, Devin drove back to the office. He was too restless to stay at the farm. Though he had taken a long, soaking bath to soothe out the worst of the aches his scuffle with Shane had caused, he still wasn’t able to fully relax.
He slowed down as he passed the inn, saw lights shining on the second and third floors. Grimly he punched the gas again and headed into town.
She wasn’t going to forgive him easily, he thought. He wasn’t going to forgive himself. He’d acted like a maniac. He’d been rough and demanding when she deserved, and should have expected, a gentle touch.
No wonder she’d looked at him as though he’d lost his mind, her eyes round in shock, her soft, pretty mouth trembling.