Page 57 of Positively, Penelope

He drew in a breath, grateful for a diversion from the current topic. “He remarried a year ago and moved to Ansling to be with my stepmother and her children. They’re younger and needed more stability, and Dad had never been as connected to the theater as Mum.”

More silence. “I can understand why laughing would be difficult for you, though. Your mom, grandma, and then your wife all within such a short time. It’s a miracle you’ve retained your smile.”

The rain pattered in the silence. Whether from its calming rhythm or Penelope’s gentle care, he continued the conversation. “Who told you about Deirdre?”

“Gwynn,” she answered. “Grandpa Gray too.”

More silence. What was there to say?

“I can’t imagine what selfish desire could lead a woman to leave something as sweet as you and Iris. I just can’t.”

The bewilderment in her voice softened his discomfort a little. “I don’t believe ‘sweet’ has ever been a word used to describe me.”

Her face turned in his direction and he raised a brow, watching as her ready smile spread at the awareness of his teasing. “True, I was probably talking more about Iris with the ‘sweet’ part. But I must defend the heroic name of Matthias now, and add that you are a very good man.”

“Good?”

“Of course you’re good. And kind, smart, creative, funny in your own way when you actually let funny happen.” She waved toward the back of the car. “Youdidjust pick me up from riding my bicycle home in the rain, so that shows a definite heroic streak. And you taught me to ride the bike, which certainly speaks to your perseverance and patience. Luke gave up lessons after only two days.”

And then he laughed. Not a huge belly laugh, but something louder and less used than a chuckle. Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. For certain.

“Well, in the future, please find me when it’s raining and you’re leaving the theater.” He turned toward the drive leading up to the cottage, then the house. “I might enjoy a chance to be heroic now and again.” He shot her a look. “But only in the rain.”

She stared at him a moment. Then her expression softened in such a way, his broken heart pulsed in response. Lamplight flickered across her face and hair, bringing out the deeper reds among those lighter hues.

Attraction? He steadied himself, forcing his senses to dull.

“I’ll keep my expectations duly aligned then, Matthias.”

Her use of his full name slammed directly into his thoughts with the force of fairy dust on a laughing child.

He pulled the car to a stop in front of the cottage and handed her the umbrella. “I’ll collect the bike.”

She met him around the back, umbrella open, but of course, she held it over him instead of herself as he walked the bike to the cottage porch.

“Do you know Mr.Westing?”

His stomach dropped at her question. “Emblem Studios’ owner?”

“Yes, him.” They stepped up on the porch and she handed him back his umbrella, her brows creased. “He gives me the creeps. Especially that mustache. Definite villain vibes.” She shivered. “He had the audacity to join me at my table I was saving for the Carringtons and then proceeded to offer me a job.”

“Offer you a job?” Something much better than anything he could offer.

“Yes.” Her frown deepened. “A ridiculous offer. Double my salary. Top-floor office space. Even a staff of my own for marketing and promotion.”

“And . . .” He leaned closer, studying her face, and the realization dawned like another blow to his assumptions. “You turned it down?”

Her gaze flew to his. “Of course I turned it down. I made a commitment to The Darling House, and I keep my commitments. Plus, I think what we’re doing is a worthwhile endeavor much deeper than money; it’s for the heart of the community and the love of real theater.” She shot him a wink. “Besides, who wants to work for a man who tries to intimidate people with the size of his mustache?”

Whether from relief or her ridiculous comment, another laugh burst out. This time, much more than a chuckle.

“Well, well, look at that, Mr.Gray.” She touched his arm again, a trait she’d shown since their first meeting. Touchiness. It was her way of connecting. Of showing her care. “We found your laugh.”

He looked up at her, shaking his head and blinking like a man who’d stepped into the light after a long time in the dark. “I suppose we did.”

“It’s a good sound. Soft and warm.” She stepped back toward the cottage door. “Your brother’s is so loud and easy. I suppose he hasn’t had the same kind of heartaches as you.” She pulled her key from her purse. “I think that’s what makes hearing your laugh all the sweeter.”

His brother. Alec. Weren’t they going to dinner on Friday? He pushed a hand through his hair and stifled a growl. What was he thinking? He didn’t even know, but whatever it was that made him want to keep close to her and breathe in her joy and bring out her smile... well, there was no way he could continue any part of that... fairy tale. Every possible ending involved hurt, not just for him but for Iris. And he wouldn’t risk anything to wound his darling girl. She’d been hurt enough in her young life.

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