One
Lane Donaldson couldn’t help but laugh as he watched the five men he called brothers acting like a bunch of damned fools.
It was funny how a baby could do that to otherwise intelligent grown men. And whether he wanted to admit it or not, he was no different. He had done his fair share of making faces and odd noises to try to get a smile out of the kid, as well.
He had invited his family and friends to the barbecue to celebrate his winning half of the Lucky Ace Ranch in a poker game last fall. But because of the birth of his nephew a few months back, the celebration had turned into a party to welcome the new baby to the family as well as to commemorate his big win.
“Y’all are going to scare the pudding out of little Hank,” Nate Rafferty complained as he made another face at the infant in his brother Sam’s arms.
Nate and Sam were as different as night and day, even though they were the only two biological siblings out of the band of foster brothers who had spent their adolescence together on the Last Chance Ranch. While Sam was happily married with a three-month-old son, Nate was too busy trying to date the entire female population of the southwest to settle down. In fact, of the four remaining confirmed bachelors, Lane included, Nate was hands down the wildest of the bunch.
“And I suppose you think you’re not scaring the kid with that sappy grin of yours, Nate?” Ryder McClain asked, laughing. “I play chicken with two thousand pounds of pissed-off beef every weekend and you’re still enough to scare the hell out of me.” A rodeo bull fighter, Ryder was without question one of the bravest men Lane had ever had the privilege of knowing—and Ryder was also the most laid-back, easygoing of his foster brothers.
“How much longer before you become a daddy, Ryder?” T. J. Malloy asked, taking a swig from the beer bottle in his hand. A highly successful saddle bronc rider, T.J. had retired at the ripe old age of twenty-eight and in the ensuing years had started raising and training champion reining horses.
“The doctor told us the other day that it could be just about any time,” Ryder answered, glancing uneasily over to where his wife, Summer, sat talking to Sam’s wife, Bria, and Bria’s sister, Mariah. “And the closer it gets, the more I feel like a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.”
“Getting a little nervous, are you?” Lane asked, grinning.
“More like a lot,” Ryder said, glancing again at his wife as if to assure himself she was still doing all right.
“I know exactly how you feel, Ryder,” Sam said, nodding. “About a month before Bria had little Hank, I mapped out the quickest route to the hospital and made several practice runs just to be sure I could get her there in time.”
“Both of you have helped cows during calving season for years,” Nate said, his tone practical. “If you’d had to, you could have delivered little Hank, Sam. And you could deliver your and Summer’s baby, Ryder.”
Every one of them gave Nate an unimpressed look, then, shaking their heads, resumed their conversation.
“What?” Nate asked, obviously confused.
“I want the best for my wife when the time comes for her to have our baby and I’m man enough to admit I’m not it,” Ryder answered, his disgusted expression stating louder than words what he thought of Nate’s logic.
“Have you given in and asked the doctor if the baby is a boy or a girl, Ryder?” Jaron Lambert asked, staring across the yard at the women.
“We really don’t care as long as the baby is healthy and Summer is okay,” Ryder answered, shaking his head. “She wants to be surprised and I want whatever she wants.”
“Well, I hope it’s a girl,” Jaron said flatly.
Lane couldn’t help but chuckle. “Mariah still not talking to you, bro?”
Jaron shook his head. “She’s still pissed off about what I said when Sam and Bria told us they were having a boy.”
Jaron and Mariah had been arguing from the time they learned that Bria and Sam were expecting. Jaron had been sure the baby would be a boy, while Mariah had insisted it would be a girl. Apparently, Mariah had taken exception to Jaron’s gloating after he’d been proven right.
“Yeah, women don’t like it very much when a man says ‘I told you so,’” Lane said, grinning.
“You think, Dr. Freud? I figured that out all by myself right after she stopped talking to me, genius.” Jaron’s sour expression and reference to Lane’s psychology degree caused Lane to laugh out loud.
“When are you going to stop beating around the bush and take that girl out for a night on the town?” Lane asked.