“Grumpy Girl,” he returned so quietly, I wasn’t sure if I heard him right.
I was still processing this unexpected turn of events when he slid into the seat beside the older woman.
The same row as me and Babs.
He in one aisle seat, I on the other.
“Seriously?” I wasn’t asking him, I was asking the universe.
The man’s companion leaned forward, brushing back a strand of platinum hair that had fallen forward. “Do you two know each other?” Though she had probably been aiming for polite curiosity, more than a hint of suspicion came through loud and clear, her forehead wrinkling with concern.
Without meaning to, my brows shot up. If that tone was jealousy, then my gigolo theory was gaining plausibility.
“We flew in on the same plane,” he answered for both of us.
The woman’s eyes widened, but then her lips curved into a pleasant smile. “Are you from Boston, then?”
I was not. But neither did I want to admit that I was from Newport.
Nope. No need to share. Seriously, just two weeks ago, my face had been plastered all over social media.
“Around there,” I answered vaguely.
“What a fun coincidence.” The incredibly enthusiastic Babs leaned around me to join the conversation. “I flew in from Portland.” She was smiling, eager for all of us to be friends. “I’m Babs, lovely to meet you,” she said, then she turned to me. “And this is…oh!” She laughed. “I didn’t give you a chance to introduce yourself, did I?”
And then she waited.
“I’m…Luna.” I waited anxiously for recognition to light up their eyes, or for the inevitable opinion on Leo and my breakup. And then exhaled a breath of relief when neither came.
Babs just nodded, waiting for the May/December couple across the aisle to offer theirs.
“Christine Grady,” the woman said, breaking into a more welcoming smile. “And this is my son, Doctor Noah Grady.”
My son.
Of course! With that little tidbit, I noticed that Christine Grady’s eyes, although colder looking, were similar to her son’s.
“Just Noah.” He rubbed his fist over his chin. He didn’t look over when he spoke.
“Are you married, ‘Just Noah?’” Babs asked, and even though I’d barely met the woman, I was embarrassed on behalf of both of us.
Not that it kept my stare from trying to catch a glimpse of his left hand.
Before he could answer, the PA system crackled to life, and Tay's too-cheerful voice filled the bus.
“Good morning, everyone!” she said, pausing to adjust the microphone as feedback screeched back at her. “Welcome aboard! I hope you all got a good night's rest because we have an exciting day ahead.”
The bus hummed quietly as the engine idled, and Tay, who was standing at the front, gestured behind her toward the driver's seat. “Before we get rolling, I'd like to introduce you to the man who's going to be getting us to our destinations in a timely manner—our driver, Mr. Joey Bloomington!”
The young man seated behind the wheel turned slightly, brushing a boyish lock of red hair out of his face, and gave a quick wave.
“You guys can call me Joe!” he said, and my stomach gave a small, uneasy twist as I recognized him. This was the same “kid” who had loaded our luggage into the compartments beneath the bus earlier.
He barely looked old enough to drive, let alone navigate this giant tube over the Rocky Mountains.
Tay hesitated for a fraction of a second before adding, “Joey's been with WonderWorld Tours for—” She sent the kid a prompting look.
“Three years,” he supplied. “But this is my first?—”
