Page 117 of Positively, Penelope

“If I’ve learned anything from knowing you, it’s never to underestimate your ideas. Or... the impossible.” His head tilted to the side, studying her busy fingers. “We’re working through this, luv.” He caught her hand in his. “Things are already looking worlds better in the past five minutes, so what else is worrying you?”

“Do you want a list?”

“If that will help allay your fears”—he gave her hand a squeeze—“then give me a list.”

The list was rather large at the moment, so she attempted to clear her mind of the less important items. “Well, I’m nervous about us not being able to pull this show together in time.” She tugged her hand from his and began pacing across an uncluttered path in the small space.

“But I think we have a solid plan in the works already.”

She nodded toward him. “Right.”

“And once we get Grandfather, Gwynn, and the community theater involved, we’ll have a better idea of the timeline.”

She paused her pacing. “Doyouthink it’s possible?”

His gaze never wavered. “I do.”

Her heart gave a responsive shudder to those two words. Very romantic words.

“And I’m worried that all we’ve done to save The Darling House is ruined.”

“Now, Penelope.” He edged closer to her. “I know what the numbers look like, and even if we can’t getThe Sound of Musicout, I think we still have a fighting chance to make it into another season stronger than we were before you came.”

“That’s good to hear.” Her smile tempted a release. “And Alec? Is he going to be okay?”

“He’s agreed to meet with Grandfather tomorrow.” Matthias’s expression sobered. “I take that as a very good sign. And I’ve messaged him as well. He’s not saying a lot, but at least he’s responding.”

“But Gwynn’s not reaching out to him?”

“She’s too hurt by his actions to reach out right now, or at least reach out in a good way.”

Penelope nodded. “I get that. And Grandpa Gray?”

“He’ll be fine, luv.”

The wordluvpossessed some sort of calming ability, because she drew in a deep breath and eased her stride, tossing a grin at him. “I’m worried about wrinkles from worrying too much.”

His smile made a slow spread across his face, lighting his eyes, and she nearly stopped walking altogether to appreciate it. She continued talking before she lost her nerve. “I’m worried that I’ll leave here and never know what it’s like to have kissed you.” Her eyes shot wide, and she looked away. “Or that I’ll never see Iris perform onstage, or—”

“What did you say?”

She spun around, facing him. Sort of. Though she looked every other place in the closet except at him. “I’ll never see Iris perform onstage?”

“Before that.” He stepped closer.

Heat erupted in her cheeks, her eyes, her forehead, and even her ears. “Worry wrinkles?” The words barely reached a whisper and there was no way she was lifting her eyes to him, even if he’d once again stepped within smelling distance. And he smelled good.

“Penelope.” The way he spoke her name somehow caused an explosion inside her. Like New Year’s Eve fireworks combined with the feeling she always got when she heard the overture forThe Sound of Music.

The single word weighted with meaning. Intention. Maybe even a little hope, kind of like the need beating through her. He moved so close his shirt took up her field of vision.

“I... I think you should kiss me.” She cleared her throat. “I mean, if you want to.”

He didn’t respond, just shifted even closer. She stared quite forcibly at the collar of his shirt and then became a little distracted by his very attractive neckline.

“I... I didn’t mean to sound bossy. It’s just that I think you’re wonderful and—”

He moved then, cutting off her words. His palms smoothed against her cheeks, framing her face, and with a little nudge, he tipped her face upward.

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