Their Miracle Baby. Caroline Anderson
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the very part of her that was giving him so much trouble.
He yanked his eyes off her and concentrated on not dribbling the softly fried egg down his chest.
‘You around for a while?’ he asked Joe around a mouthful of sandwich.
‘Why?’
‘I need a shower.’
Joe arched a brow. ‘Long time since we shared a shower,’ he said dryly, and Mike felt himself colour.
‘I don’t want to share it with you, you jackass. I need someone to grab me when I fall over, and Fran’s too little. I’d squash her.’
Joe looked disbelieving, but he shrugged and nodded. ‘I can give you a hand. Be more fun with Fran, though.’
He felt himself colour again, his neck reddening, and his hands itched to strangle Joe. Not that his brother realised he was being tactless. How could he? Only they knew their marriage was in tatters.
‘Don’t tease him, Joe,’ their mother said gently, and Mike heard something else in her tone. A warning? A warning to tread softly?
So maybe their problems weren’t as private as he’d thought.
Damn.
He pushed the plate away. ‘That was lovely, Mum. Thanks. Right, Joe, are you ready? I don’t want to hold you up, I know you’ve got loads to do.’
‘Tell me about it,’ Joe said, dropping his mug into the sink and handing his brother the crutches. ‘Come on, then, Hopalong, let’s get you scrubbed. Pity we haven’t still got the sheep-dip.’
‘Ha-ha. I need a bin bag and some elastic bands,’ he said, and while Joe found those, he headed upstairs the same way he’d come down.
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