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“Are you going to help me with the roof?”
“No.” She nudged him. “Inside.”
Mathias glanced at Milo. “Oh, great.”
“I’ll never get finished if I try to do it all myself. I think your sister is a closet interior decorator.”
“She does have an eye for color and design.”
Wilda took the bottle from him. “I’ll fill this for you.”
She headed for the kitchen, and Mathias looked at Milo. “Strictly business, right?”
“Of course. What else would it be?”
Mathias cocked his head. “I see how you look at her.”
“I know her situation, Mathias. You don’t need to worry about me.”
“Okay, good. I’m beginning to like you, and I can see us becoming friends. But I’ll kick your ass if I need to.”
“No ass kicking necessary.”
Chapter five
“How can a woman be too pretty?”
Mathias was on the roof when Wilda arrived at the house after dropping Caleb off at school on Tuesday morning. He waved to her as she went in through the kitchen door, dressed in old jeans and a T-shirt, ready to work. When she picked up Caleb yesterday afternoon, Milo had asked her to remove the wallpaper in the parlor. After a few hours of research on the best way to do it, she was ready.
She’d been at it for a couple of hours and had half of one wall uncovered when Mathias came into the room. “Hey, look at you go.”
“It’s amazing how satisfying it is to rip this old paper off the walls.”
“What’s the plan? New paper, or paint?”
“Milo wants to paint, but he’s leaving the color up to me.” She held up a finger. “With the stipulation that it’s a manly color. He’ll be putting a pool table in here.”
“I can totally see that working.”
“Of course you can. I think Milo is going to be your new best friend.”
Mathias laughed. “You never know. How about you? Seems you guys get along quite well, considering it’s only been a week.”
“He’s a very nice man.”
“Right.”
“Mathias.”
“I just worry about you, that’s all.”
“I have no intention of… You don’t need to worry about me. Tom was my…” She sighed and let the sentence drop.
Mathias scowled. “It’s not like I want you to be alone for the rest of your life. Tom wouldn’t have wanted that either. I just—”
“Worry?”
“Tread softly, that’s all I’m saying.”
