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 cast-offs.'
'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.'
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-eyed 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.
He'd make it up to her somehow, eventually. He knew how to bide his time, didn't he? He'd been waiting for
