With care, precision and enjoyment, he began to repoint the stone.
"I figured the boss would be sitting at a desk, running figures."
Rafe glanced back and lifted a brow. Jared stood in the center of the room, his gleaming black shoes resting on a spattered drop cloth. For some reason, his black Wayfarer shades didn't look out of place with his gray pin-striped three-piece suit.
"That stuff's for lawyers and bookkeepers."
Jared took off the sunglasses and tucked them into the pocket of his suit coat. "And think what the world would be without them."
"Simpler." Rafe stuck his trowel in the mortar and gave his brother a once-over. "On your way to a funeral?"
"I had business in town, thought I'd drop by and see how things are going." He glanced around the room, then back toward the hall when something crashed, someone cursed. "So, how's it going?"
"Steady." Rafe sighed when Jared took out a slim cigar. "Blow some of that over here, will you? I quit ten really long days ago."
"Reforming yourself?" Obligingly, Jared walked over, crouched. He smoked lazily as he and Rafe frowned meaningfully at the stone. "Not too shabby."
Rafe knocked a fist against the rose-grained marble. "An Adam, pal."
Jared grunted, clamped the cigar between his teeth. "Need a hand around here?"
Blandly Rafe looked down. "You're wearing your lawyer shoes."
"I meant over the weekend."
"I can always use another back." Pleased with the offer, Rafe picked up the trowel again. "How's yours?"
"As good as yours."
"Still working out?" He gave Jared's biceps a testing punch. "I still say gyms are for sissies."
Jaied blew out a stream of smoke. "Want to go a round, bro?"
"Sure, when you're not dressed so pretty." To torture himself, Rafe sucked in secondhand smoke. "I appreciate you handling the settlement on this place for me."
"You haven't got my bill, yet." Grinning, Jared straightened. "I thought you were crazy when you called and told me to go after it. Then I did a walkthrough." He turned, still grinning. "And I knew you were crazy. You practically stole the place, but I figure it's got to cost you two times the purchase price to make it livable."
"Three times," Rafe said mildly, "to make it the way I want it."
"How do you want it?"
"The way it was." Rafe scraped the edge of his trowel over stone, leveling his mortar.
"That's always a tough one," Jared murmured. "You don't seem to be having a problem with labor. I wondered if you would, considering the place's rep."
"Money talks. Lost a plumber's assistant this morning, though." Wicked amusement sparkled in his eyes. "They were checking pipes in one of the second-floor johns. This guy claims someone clamped a hand on his shoulder. He was still running when he made it to the road. Don't guess he'll be back."
"Any other problems?"
"Nothing I need a lawyer for. Did you hear the one about the lawyer and the rattlesnake?"
"I've heard them all," Jared said dryly. "I keep a file."
With a chuckle, Rafe wiped his hands on Ms jeans. "You did good, Jare. Mom would've liked seeing you duded up like that." For a moment, he said nothing. There was only the scrape of trowel on stone. "It's weird, staying at the farm. Mostly just me and Shane. Devin spends half his nights on a cot in the sheriff's office. You're in that fancy little town house in the city. When I hear Shane get up in the morning, it's still dark. The idiot's whistling, like going out to milk in January's just a boatload of laughs."
"He's always loved it. He's kept that place alive."
"I know."