Claiming the Enemy: Dustin (Porter Brothers Trilogy 3)

“Whatcha doing, Uncle Dustin?”

Dustin looked away from the television to his niece. He had left the women sitting at the table after dinner, volunteering to do the dishes. He was now sprawled on the couch comfortably when Ema came over to him, leaving Logan, who’d been playing with her.

“Watching TV. You don’t want to play with Logan?”

“He won’t share his crayons.”

“She always breaks them. I told her she could play with the ones in the box.” Logan pushed the plastic box toward the end of the coffee table where he was sitting and drawing on a sketchpad that Holly bought him.

“Don’t want those. Those aren’t pretty.”

“Logan, give her a couple of yours from your box. I’ll buy you some more.” Dustin rubbed his forehead, feeling the beginning of a headache.

“I don’t want to color.” Ema climbed onto the couch to sit on his waist. “I love you, Uncle Dustin.” Seriously, she reached out to pat his cheek.

“I love you, too.”

Nodding, she stuck her thumb into her mouth, then placed her head on his shoulder. Dustin stroked her back as she nuzzled against him.

“You’re getting too big to suck your thumb.”

Thick lashes lifted to reveal somber eyes, but she didn’t remove her thumb from her mouth.

“Thank God your dad belongs to The Last Riders. It’s going to take all of them and me, Tate, and Greer to keep the boys away from you.”

Dustin heard Rachel’s laughter from the table. “They better be worried about me. I’m the best shot in Treepoint.”

Dustin saw Logan look toward him.

“Don’t let her fool you. I am.” Dustin made a face at him as if Rachel were crazy.

“You wish.” Greer snorted from the armchair. “None of you can hold a candle to me.”

“Don’t believe them, Ema. Uncle Tate is the best,” Tate said, coming in from the kitchen and eating a quart of ice cream from the carton. Tate took a seat on the other recliner. “I thought you were asleep, Greer.”

“I was until I heard Rach flapping her lips,” he grumbled, pushing his feet down until the recliner straightened. “She couldn’t outshoot me if I were drunk on Pa’s best moonshine. You still eating, Tate? You’re going to get bigger than Knox if you keep eating ice cream by the carton.”

“I can’t help it.” Tate shrugged, burrowing his spoon back into the ice cream.

“You sure you’re not the one who’s pregnant? Sutton hasn’t put on five pounds, and you look like you’ve gained ten.”

“She’s gained eight. I’ve gained seven.”

“You need a new scale. You’ve gained ten, or I’ll kiss your …” Greer shot a look toward the table where Holly was sitting. “Butt,” he said, getting up. “I need to go check on the fields.” Dustin watched Greer get slowly to his feet.

“I’ll do it before going to bed. You’re looking tired, old man.”

“I could still whip you and Tate with my hands tied behind my back.” Stretching, Greer walked to the couch. “Want to go with me to give Rosie her bath?” he asked, reaching for his niece.

Ema shrugged away from Greer’s touch. “No, I want Uncle Dustin. I love him.”

Greer cocked his head downward at him. “Since when did you become her favorite uncle?”

Dustin smiled up at him in amusement. “I have no idea.”

“It must be all the stories I’ve been telling her about when we were growing up.”

Dustin heard Rachel move closer to the couch. Then she leaned over the back, meeting his eyes as he continued to rub Ema’s back.

“I think she knows.” Rachel brushed a gentle hand over her daughter’s tangled, curly hair.

“Knows what?”

When his sister looked at him, he knew without her saying a word.

“You’re pregnant?”

Rachel nodded happily. “We found out this morning.”

“Congratulations!” Sutton and Holly squealed, jumping up from the table.

“Congratulations, sis.” Dustin didn’t get up, not wanting to disturb Ema and letting Greer and Tate take their turns. “You’re going to be a big sister, Ema.”

“Nope, I’m the baby.”

“You don’t want a little brother or sister?”

“Is it going to cry like Rosie?”

“Yes.”

“No. Mama, take it back.”

“I can’t do that, baby girl. Don’t you want to have a brother or sister to play with like I did with Dustin?”

“No. I don’t want it.” Ema nuzzled into his side harder.

“It’s eight months away. By the time she or he gets here, you’ll be as excited as your Dad and I are.”

“No, I won’t.”

“You’re due two months after me?” Sutton cut into the battle of wills between mother and daughter.

“Yes. I didn’t even know. I went to the doctor because he called to remind me that it was time for my yearly exam. When he told me I was pregnant, I made him rerun the test because I couldn’t believe it.”

“How are you feeling? Any morning sickness?” Greer asked, moving his hand toward Rachel’s belly.

She took a step away from him. “I feel like a million dollars. I’ve always been quicker to recuperate than you—” Rachel cut off what she was about to say at Greer’s quelling look.