Cushy eight figures. Damn. Whether it was ten million or ninety-nine million didn’t matter. I wouldn’t be able to spend that much money in a dozen lifetimes. I’d made a cool fifty K in a good year of construction, and it had been more than enough to suit my modest needs.

“So what do you think?”

I jerked my head back to Reid. “About what?”

“These for your suits.” He pushed several pieces of fabric into my hands.

“What are they?”

“Wool.”

“They don’t feel like wool.” I imagined the heavy sweaters I wore in Montana during the winter.

“They are.”

Dieter approached us and took the fabric Reid had chosen. “Wool is a very versatile fiber, Mr. Wolfe,” he said. “It can be woven into coarse yarns or very fine silky thread, and everything in between.”

“Whatever. Yeah, these are fine.” Just what I needed. A lesson in textiles. Christ.

“Let’s see the cotton poplins and oxfords for his shirts,” Reid said.

Dieter brought over another booklet of samples.

“You a fashion expert now?” I said to Reid.

“I know how to dress myself for the business I’m in. Something you should learn. Something you will learn.”

I eyed my youngest brother. Sharp dresser, that was for sure. I’d have taken him for a designer suit guru, not personally tailored. He was even slightly taller than I was, and I was no slouch at six-three. My little brother had grown up.

Reid chose my shirt fabric and then we went through soft silk for ties. Solids, paisleys, stripes… By the end my eyes were bugging out.

“Can you have a suit ready by tomorrow?” Reid asked.

“Sorry, sir. Next week at the earliest.”

Reid pulled out his wallet and peeled off a couple of Ben Franklins. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

Dieter pocketed the bills. “It will be here by seven in the morning. I appreciate your business. But I’ll have to send over a premade shirt and tie, plus some shoes.”

“Fine,” Reid said. “Thank you, Dieter.”

Dieter bowed—yes, he fucking bowed!—and left.

Reid looked at his phone. “Time for our conference call. They’re breaking ground in Vegas today. Go to the conference room. I need to make a quick call first.”

16

Lacey

I’d spent the weekend at the office. I had no shortage of work, and it was the best way to keep my mind occupied.

Even so, my thoughts strayed to Rock Wolfe more than once.

Now, back at my office once again, I faced a morning of no appointments. Nothing to keep my thoughts from grazing over to Mr. Asshole Extraordinaire.

I wasn’t falling for him. I’d known him for all of three days, had spent not more than five hours with him—though they were five pretty exciting hours. Still, I had relationships with leftovers in my refrigerator that were longer.