Page 56 of Positively, Penelope

He stared for a long moment. “You’re impenetrable.”

Another laugh bubbled from her. “I’m sure you mean that much kindlier than the way it sounds.”

He pushed the umbrella into her hand and took control of the bicycle, his head shaking. If he could have thought of a response, he would have spoken it, but at the moment, he could barely get words into a sentence. Who was this woman?

“Let’s place the bike in the boot and then I’ll drive you home.”

“I love it when you call the trunk of the car the boot.” She sidled up next to him, holding the umbrella more over him than herself. “And I don’t mind the rain.”

“Well, I do, and this way you can spend the next ten minutes in the dry of the car.”

He worked the bike into the boot, with a little of it still protruding a bit, and when he looked back over at Penelope, who still held the umbrella over him, her smile took a softer turn. “Thank you, Matt.”

His gaze paused in hers a moment. “Of course.”

He wrapped his hand around the umbrella handle, his fingers brushing hers for a second, and the dance came back to mind, so he tugged the umbrella free from her grasp and gestured with his chin for her to get in the car. She’d almost made it to the passenger door when she spun around to face him, her navy hat crooked on her ginger head. “Do you mind if I call you Matthias?”

And, as if struck by lightning, he finally realized why a word like supercalifragilisticexpialidocious could come in handy. In fact, Penelope should wear a disclaimer as a caution for the people she met. Warning: This word may be helpful when in a friendship with me.Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.

His bottom lip loosed, but he collected himself. “Get in the car, Penelope.”

Her smile dropped but she obeyed. He rounded to the driver side to join her in the car.

He put the car back in Drive and started forward.

“Don’t you like the name Matthias? It’s a very heroic sort of name, I think.”

His eyes winced closed even as his lips curled into a smile. “Heroic?”

“There’s something about it.” She tilted her chin up. “Matthias Gray.” She swept a broad gesture with her hand as if making a regal entrance. “Yes, like a knight or something. Sir Matthias. Ooh.” Her shoulders trembled. “Oh yes, very nice. It’s certainly the type of name for someone who would rescue a lady in the rain.”

Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. Yes, that word came in very handy.

“Names have power, you know?” she continued, nonplussed. “Matt is a fine name, of course, but Matthias has a certain something special about it.”

He cleared a laugh from his throat. How on earth did the woman live with so much... whatever it was, all the time? “My mother used to call me Matthias. Grandmother also.” He focused ahead, the admission stirring up a strange tenderness. Grief, he supposed, but something else. A sweet memory. Like an endearment almost.

“Then if two of the most important women in your life called you Matthias, you have to like the name a little.” She patted her knees and relaxed back in the seat, her damp hair curling around her face.

The quiet sobered the moment.

“I hate the wordcancer.”

He glanced toward her, attempting to follow her logic but without success.

“It’s such a painful word. I know your mom didn’t die of cancer, but your grandmother did. So much loss for your tender heart.” She placed her palm on his arm, her touch as comforting as the tone of her voice. “I think it might be sweet for someone to call you Matthias again. And the name suits you.”

A strange mix of humor and tenderness swelled through him, fighting for a victor. Clearly, her type of crazy was rubbing off on him.

He refused to glance in her direction.

“My best friend in high school—she fought cancer for as long as she could.” Her voice trembled a little but then steadied. “Inoperableis an ugly word too.”

He turned then, and she looked up at him, her eyes glossing in the pale light, but a small smile still played across her expression. “I got a secret tattoo in her honor. A butterfly on my shoulder.” Her finger rubbed at the spot between her neck and edge of her shoulder. “Dad would have killed me if he’d found out, but for some reason—” She sighed. “I know I have memories, but, well, memories didn’tseem permanent enough for someone who’d been such a big part of my life.”

The road blurred. Heaven help him, the blasted woman had him nearly in tears.

“Is your dad still alive?”

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