Five Brothers and a Baby

by Peggy Moreland

  "Oh, for crying out loud," Ace groused. "Quit your flirting, Rory, and get over here and get this kid."

  Shooting her a wink, Rory gave her hand a parting squeeze, then moved in front of Ace. His eyes widened in surprise, when he got his first look at his brother. "Whoa. What truck ran over you?"

  Ace averted his gaze, obviously embarrassed to admit how he'd received the injuries. "Dang horse pitched me off."

  "I told him he should see a doctor," Maggie said, "but he refused."

  Rory shook his head. "That's no surprise. Ace has a powerful fear of doctors."

  "I do not!" Ace cried.

  "I stand corrected," Rory said, bowing. "It's their needles that scare you." Chuckling, he glanced over at Maggie. "One time, when we were kids, I stepped on a rusty nail and Ace had to take me to the doctor to get a tetanus shot. Even insisted upon holding my hand while they gave me the injection. One look at that needle, and he passed smooth out. Took two nurses to revive him."

  "Shoulda let you die from blood poisoning or lockjaw," Ace grumbled, then snapped, "If you don't take this kid, I'm dumping her on the floor."

  Maggie quickly stepped between the two men, fearing Ace would make good his threat.

  "Here, I'll take her." She lifted the baby to her shoulder, then offered Ace a hand. "Need some help?"

  He slapped her hand away. "It's my ribs that're hurt, not my legs."

  But when he tried to stand, his butt only cleared the chair about three inches before he was sinking back down, his face pale, his hand clasped at his side.

  Rory moved closer. "Here, Ace. I'll help you."

  Ace shot him a murderous look. "I don't need your help. What I need is whiskey. See if there's any in the liquor cabinet in the den."

  Rory turned away, biting back a smile. "Sure thing, Ace. Won't take me but a minute."

  "If you're in pain," Maggie said worriedly, "I'll get you some aspirin."

  "I don't want aspirin. I want whiskey."

  "But, Ace—"

  "And make it straight," he shouted to Rory.

  Rory returned with a bottle and a glass. He splashed two fingers of whiskey into the tumbler, then offered it to Ace. Ace looked pointedly at the glass, then up at Rory. With a shrug, Rory filled it to the top and passed it to Ace.

  Ace downed half the drink in one greedy gulp, shuddered, then sank back in the chair with a sigh. "I feel better already."

  Rory set the whiskey bottle on the table. "Another shot like that, and you won't feel anything at all."

  Maggie pushed the bottle out of Ace's reach. "What you need is food, not whiskey."

  "Food?" Rory echoed, his eyes lighting up. "Is there any of Mrs. Frazier's fried chicken left?"

  "If there isn't," Maggie told him, "there's plenty more to choose from. If you'll hold the baby, I'll see what I can find."

  Rory took a step back, rubbing his hands down the side of his legs. "I don't think so. I've never held a kid before."

  Maggie rolled her eyes. "What is it with you Tanner men? She won't bite."

  "No, but she might break."

  "Oh, for heaven's sake," Maggie fussed, then dragged out a chair and pointed a stiff finger at it. "Sit," she ordered.

  Rory sat.

  "You'll have to support her head," she warned him. "She's not strong enough yet to hold it up on her own."

  He blew out an uneasy breath, wiped his palms down his thighs, then held out his arms. "Okay. Hand her over."

  She transferred the baby into his arms, tucking the blanket carefully around her. "There," she said, smiling as she straightened. "That's not so hard, is it?"

  Rory looked down at the baby, who was staring up at him in wide-eyed wonder, and grinned. "She's a cute little thing, isn't she?"

  "Precious," Ace muttered under his breath, then said louder, "Is anybody going to pour me another drink or am I going to have to get up and get it myself?"

  When Rory and Maggie ignored him, Ace set his jaw and dug in his heels, scooching his chair closer to the table. Slamming the empty glass down on its top, he grabbed the bottle and turned it up, gulping whiskey as fast as he could swallow. The liquid burned a path down his throat and hit his empty stomach with a nauseating splash.

  Sure that Maggie would have stopped him by now—or at the very least have voiced her disapproval—he lowered the bottle and stole a glance her way. She stood at Rory's side, her arm draped along the back of his chair, her face almost cheek-to-cheek with his, smiling and offering encouragement, as Rory fed the baby the bottle.

  For some stupid reason, seeing the two together like that made Ace madder than hell.

  "I thought you were going to fix us something to eat?" he snapped.

  Maggie leaned to place her hand over Rory's to adjust the angle of the bottle. "I am," she said, as she straightened. "I just wanted to make sure Rory was comfortable with feeding Laura first." She smiled at Rory and gave him a pat on the back. "You're doing great," she said, before turning away.

  Ace watched her cross to the refrigerator, a scowl building on his face.

  "I don't know what he's doing that's so great," he grumbled. "Any fool can feed a baby."

  Maggie pulled open the refrigerator door, then looked over the top of it at Ace. "You ought to know," she said, smiling sweetly. "You managed to do it."

  * * *

  Ace awakened slowly, sure that a woodpecker had set up shop on his forehead and was jackhammering a hole between his eyes. Moaning, he rolled to his back, then sucked in a breath through his teeth, as pain stabbed through his side. Remembering his fall from the horse, he closed his eyes and gulped, willing the nausea back.

  When he was fairly certain he could do so without throwing up, he opened his eyes and looked around. Since his last memory was of sitting at the kitchen table, guzzling whiskey straight from the bottle, he was surprised to find himself in his bed and in his room. How had he gotten there? he wondered. Maggie? Rory?

  Neither, he decided, scowling. If left up to the two of them, he could've died in that chair and they wouldn't have noticed. They'd been too busy flirting with each other to care what happened to him. Rory he could almost understand, since his brother was a natural born flirt. But Maggie? Hadn't she professed to Ace, only that morning, that she wasn't interested in a relationship with a man, sexual or otherwise?

  Hard to believe, after that hot little tango she'd danced with Ace in the kitchen, prior to Rory's arrival. His scowl deepened. Harder still, considering the way she'd latched onto Rory like he was the last living male on earth, preparing him a plate of food and all but hand feeding it to him, while he gave the baby the bottle.

  And what had Maggie done for Ace, who was too busted up to stand alone, much less get himself something to eat? Nothing but shoot him dirty looks every time he lifted the bottle for another drink.

  You wouldn't be jealous now would you, Tanner?

  The question came out of nowhere and had Ace stiffening. Hell, no, he wasn't jealous, he told himself, forcing the tension from his shoulders. He didn't give a tinker's damn if Maggie had the hots for his brother. Why should he care who she fooled around with, as long as she stayed away from him and kept the kid out of his hair?

  The bedroom door opened a crack, and he whipped his head around just as Maggie's face appeared in the opening. She looked a little bit too pink-cheeked and cheerful to suit Ace.

  "What do you want?" he snapped.

  Her smile dipping into a frown, she pushed the door open and stepped inside. "Well, I see that a good night's sleep hasn't improved your disposition any."

  Remembering that he was wearing nothing but his boxer shorts, he yanked the sheet across his lower body. "Nothing wrong with my disposition."

  Arching a brow, she crossed to the bed. "So you're always this cranky?"

  Before he could think of a suitable comeback, she distracted him by leaning to fluff the pillows behind his head. With her body draped across his, he got a whiff of some come-hither perfume and a peek of cleavage
that kicked his senses into overload and his hormones into high gear. Down, boy, he told himself, remembering his vow of celibacy where she was concerned.

  Straightening, she gave him a stern look. "You owe Rory a big thank-you."

  He snorted a disgusted breath. "For what? Feeding the baby her damn bottle?"

  "No. For taking you to the emergency room."

  He gaped at her. "He didn't take me anywhere."

  She smiled smugly. "Oh, but he did. That's just one of the consequences of consuming too much alcohol. It robs a person of whole blocks of time."

  Groaning, Ace squeezed a hand at his temples, unable to believe he'd been so drunk he didn't remember a trip to the emergency room.

  "By the way," she added. "You'll be glad to know that your ribs aren't broken, just bruised."

  "Which is what I said all along," he snapped. Ignoring him, she went on. "And while you're thanking Rory, you might want to throw in an apology."

  "An apology?" he cried. "For what?"

  "You called him a few choice names, while he was helping you to bed."

  Though he was relieved to learn that it was Rory and not Maggie who had stripped him of his clothes, Ace wasn't about to offer his brother an apology. He folded his arms stubbornly across his chest. "Probably deserved it."

  "What he deserves is an apology."

  He eyed her suspiciously, wondering why she was so hell-bent on defending Rory and wondering, too, if it was his brother who had put that pretty shade of pink in her cheeks and left her looking as satisfied as a cat with a belly full of cream. "What time did he leave, anyway?"

  She shrugged. "I don't know. Ten or eleven, I'd guess."

  "How long before that did he put me to bed?"

  "He left right after." She gave him an odd look. "Why?"

  Jutting his chin, he looked away. "No reason." With a shrug, she leaned to press the back of her fingers against his forehead.

  He ducked away. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

  "Checking to see if you have a temperature."

  "What I have is a headache."

  She stooped to pick his clothes up from the floor. "And well earned. You drank enough whiskey to kill a normal person."

  He would've argued, but since he felt a little like death, he decided against it. "Get me some aspirin."

  She dumped his clothes on the foot of his bed to fist her hands on her hips. "Oh, so you want aspirin now? When I offered them to you last night, all you wanted was whiskey."

  His stomach churned sickly at the reminder of the bottle he'd polished off. Or was it two? "Aspirin," he repeated.

  With a huff of breath, she dropped her hands from her hips and marched to the adjoining bath. She returned minutes later with a bottle and a glass of water. She shook a couple of tablets onto his palm, then passed him the water to wash them down with.

  "Your agent called," she told him while he drank. "He wants you to call him. He said it was an emergency."

  Ace backhanded the water from his upper lip. "Everything's an emergency to Max."

  She took the glass from him and set it on the bedside table. "He said something about your book being short and your publisher needing more photographs before they can send it on to the printer."

  Ace sat bolt upright at the news, then sank weakly back against the pillows, holding a hand against his bandaged ribs. "What next?" he moaned miserably.

  "Do you want me to call him and tell him that you had an accident and can't take care of any business right now?"

  "No, I don't want you to tell him any such thing!" He frowned a moment, thinking. "There's a portfolio in the back seat of my truck." He held his hands out, measuring. "About this size and black. Bring it to me."

  She lifted a brow. "You might try asking a little nicer."

  He set his jaw, knowing she had him between a rock and a hard place, since he wasn't at all sure he could make it to his truck under his own steam. "Please," he ground out between clenched teeth.

  She smiled. "All right. But I'll need to check on the baby first. Do you want anything else?"

  A break from bad news, Ace thought irritably, but shook his head. "Just the portfolio."

  * * *

  Later that morning, Ace sat propped up in his bed, studying the prints spread in front of him, trying to decide if he could use any for the book. Busted up like he was, making another trip to Wyoming to take additional shots was out of the question.

  "Ace?"

  He looked up to find Maggie standing in the doorway, the baby in her arms. "What?"

  "I'm going to town to buy some supplies for Laura. How do you want me to pay for them?"

  He turned his attention back to the photos. "Charge whatever you need. The Bar-T has accounts at every store in town."

  "Do you want me to bring you something to eat before I leave? You haven't eaten anything this morning."

  Ace's stomach growled at the reminder. "I suppose I could choke down something."

  She stepped into the room and crossed to the bed. "I found a lemon pound cake in the refrigerator and there's fresh coffee brewed. How does that sound?"

  Without looking up, he waved her away. "Whatever."

  He heard a rustling sound and glanced over to find Maggie had moved some of his photos aside and was laying the baby on the bed beside him. "You're not leaving that kid here!" he cried.

  "It's just for a minute," she promised, as she hurried for the door. "I can't carry her and a tray, too."

  "Wait! I—" Before he could tell Maggie he'd changed his mind about being hungry, she was gone. Scowling down at the baby, he snatched a photo from beneath her foot. "Don't touch a thing," he warned.

  She blinked up at him, as if fascinated by the sound of his voice. Curling his lip in disgust, he turned his attention back to his work, determined to ignore the kid.

  But a few seconds later, he found his gaze straying back to her.

  She is kind of cute, he thought, remembering Rory's comment the night before. But, damn, she was tiny. He touched the tip of his finger against a palm no bigger than a quarter and nearly jumped out of his skin, when she closed her fingers around his. His heart thumping wildly, he tried to pull his finger from her grasp, but she held on tight.

  "That's quite a grip you've got there, kid," he said uneasily. Though he wasn't certain, he would swear the little gurgling sound she made was a laugh. He narrowed an eye at her. "So you think this is funny, do you?" He shook his finger, trying to break her grip. His eyes widened in amazement, when he couldn't shake loose. "What are you? Wonder Kid?"

  In answer, she lifted her legs and planted her bare feet against his forearm. He stared at them, astonished at how small they were, how soft.

  "If you plan on doing any walking on those things," he told her, "you'd better do some growing."

  "She'll grow."

  Ace glanced up to find Maggie entering the room, a tray in her hands. Embarrassed that she'd caught him talking to the kid, he jerked his hand back and was relieved the kid chose that moment to release her hold on him.

  "She'd better," he grumbled.

  Maggie shifted items on the bedside table, making room for the tray. "I wasn't sure what you'd want in your coffee, so I brought both cream and sugar."

  Ace reached for the cup and drew it to his lips, all but salivating at the coffee's rich aroma. "Black's fine," he said, before gulping down a swallow. Closing his eyes, he sank back against the pillows with a sigh. "Is there any way you can rig this up to my arm and feed it to me intravenously?"

  In spite of her irritation with him, Maggie had to resist a smile at the desperation in his voice. "I don't think so."

  While he sipped his coffee, she glanced at the photos spread over the bed. Her curiosity aroused by the black and white shots, she picked one of the photos up to examine it more closely. Captured on the print was a moose, with only its head and antlers visible, peeking around the corner of a weathered barn.

  "This is good," she said, impressed
by Ace's skill with a camera. "Is this one of the pictures you've chosen to send to your agent?"

  He set aside his coffee and took the photo from her. "Maybe," he said, studying it critically. "I haven't decided yet."

  Maggie sat down on the side of the bed, absently stroking her fingers up and down the baby's arm, as she looked over the other photos. "What's your book about?" she asked curiously.

  "Wyoming." He laid the photo aside and picked up another. "Specifically, the wildlife and domesticized animals found there." He angled the photo he held for her to see. "What do you think of this one?"

  The photo was of a little boy and his dog, both dripping wet from a swim in the lake behind them. Charmed by the expressions on the faces of the two, she said the first thought that came to mind. "Best friends."

  Ace's eyes sharpened at her response. "Exactly," he said, then tossed the picture aside to pick up another. "And this one?"

  Her smile melted as she stared at the picture of an emaciated dog, its ribs protruding grotesquely, digging through a garbage can. In the near distance, a man was pulling a gun from the backseat of his truck. Gulping, she looked up at Ace. "He didn't shoot the dog, did he?"

  Ace was too interested in her responses to take time to respond. Dropping the photo, he picked up another to hold before her face. "What about this one?"

  Maggie shoved his hand aside. "Please tell me that you didn't let him shoot the dog."

  "The dog's fine," he said in frustration, then pushed the photo back in front of her eyes. "What do you see?"

  Giving him a doubtful look, Maggie shifted her gaze to the picture and a tender smile curved her lips. "A mother's love."

  "That's all?"

  She looked up at him, her forehead creasing in puzzlement. "Yes. What was I supposed to see?"

  Ace turned the picture around to frown at it. He'd slipped up on the doe in a secluded glen at daybreak, catching the deer lying on a bed of crushed grass, her fawn asleep at her side. He'd snapped the picture just as the doe had turned her head to lick the fawn's face. To him the picture represented peace, tranquility. Nature at its best.

  But Maggie had seen only a mother's love.

  With a shrug, he set the picture aside. "You put the kid to sleep with all that petting."