Love Is Always Write Volume 4

opened the two bottles of wine he'd kept hidden in the linen closet for cooking and prayed they'd have a glass and calm down. He was having a hard enough time accepting the fact that Phillip was gone. He didn't need someone else's dismay and disappointment to cope with. Later on, maybe.
    Stefan ran off to change clothes, fast, hauling Emily with him. He didn't like leaving those two out there as the last-minute setup. They spoke in low voices, but he caught the words "Phillip" and, a minute later, "Should I tell him?"
    Back out in the tense company of brother and sister, and their stares, he crooned to Emily. When that didn't work, he imagined what it would be like to strip the clothes off her uncle. Greg's gray suit wasn't fancy but it reeked of money—and the perfect way that jacket fit his shoulders. He had on cufflinks and Stefan imagined slipping them out and peeling the shirt off that muscular body.
    Nothing like having fantasies under awkward social circumstances to make a person feel more in control. Trouble was, as Stefan watched the dangerous Greg sideways, the appeal of the guy disrupted vital brain circuits. He missed Mellady's question.
    "Pardon?" Stefan asked.
    "I'm not sure that I told you about Greg?"
    "Yes, you did. Overprotective older brother."
    Greg snorted. "Yeah, she told you about me. Not overprotective enough, I guess."
    That sounded ominous. Stefan jumped when the doorbell rang again.
    Unfortunately it was a few of Phillip's work buddies. He must have forgotten to let them know he was going to skip out of Stefan's and Emily's lives.
    "He's gone to which islands?" asked Dennis, who'd always smirked whenever he saw Phillip and Stefan together.
    "The Caribbean. Somewhere." Stefan felt stupid. Cluelessness and the lack of sleep due to Emily's late-night waking spells had left him shorter tempered than usual.
    Dennis began to laugh. "Left you in the lurch, huh? An abandoned woman."
    Stefan had to stop himself from tackling the dumb son-of-a-bitch and pummeling him. A baby on his front helped restrain him. So did a quick glance at Uncle Greg, who watched with a flat expression in his green eyes.
    Greg looked dangerous, and Stefan recalled he was some kind of contractor. Mellady didn't say exactly what that meant, but he traveled around the world doing a consulting gig. Oil rig construction? No, some other kind of energy expert consulting with governments and the private sector about conservation. Or something. Not a mercenary contractor, despite those broad shoulders and short hair-cut.
    Rather than pummeling the asshole, Dennis, Stefan went with a sad attempt at humor—and babbling. "If I was a woman, I'd have the right equipment to feed her. But I'm going to have to go find her some formula. I'll be right back. Help yourselves. Mellady, could you answer the door? And I have to get the drinks all around. Not just for the guest of honor."
    He'd bring out the pitchers of exotic fruit concoctions. No alcohol, of course. And he'd do his best not to empty it on Dennis's head.
    Emily began rooting again. And when was the last time she'd had a diaper change? In the kitchen, Stefan hauled her out of the pack and felt the soggy heaviness.
    Greg stood behind him. He moved silently. "I can take her if you want."
    "No!" Stefan didn't mean to sound so alarmed.
    Greg's smile made him look younger even with the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. "I promise not to steal her."
    The guy had to be a mind-reader. "No big deal. She needs a change, and I'll just do that, then get the bottle."
    "I can handle ugly diapers. I don't love them, but I'm not scared of them." Uncle Greg was practically friendly now, though Stefan didn't feel reassured. But then the larger man reached over and a second later, Emily was out of Stefan's arms, and draped over Greg's shoulder.
    "You have to support her head." Stefan watched the cavalier way he handled the baby and had to hold back a stronger protest.
    "She's what, three months? She's fine. Where's her room?"
    "Down the hall. I'll get her bottle ready."
    Greg left, holding the baby like a sack of grain. He wouldn't just walk out of the house with her. If he did, well…Stefan knew where Mellady lived.
    If Greg didn't get back into that kitchen in five minutes, Stefan would go after him.
    Stefan slapped down the bread and sawed off pieces, smeared them with the goat-cheese-and-chick-pea topping, and threw the sheet of them into the oven to brown. A good bit of aggressive prep