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CHAPTER ONE

Day One

Belfast, Northern Ireland

Stragglers—there was always at least one on every tour. To most bus drivers, they were a minor inconvenience. To Finn O’Meara, they were an unavoidable annoyance.

He simply didn’t understand why people just couldn’t get to the bus on time. Was it really that difficult?

“Sorry for the delay, folks,” he said into his intercom, his voice transferring down the bus in a tinny echo. “I’m sure our final passenger will arrive any minute now.”

Sure. That wasn’t the right word for it. Perhaps ‘hope’ would be better.

No one responded to his weak promise. A few passengers spoke quietly to their seatmates, while others peered silently out the slightly tinted windows. One woman looked at her watch, then sighed loudly before muttering something to her husband.

Finn grimaced. This did not bode well for the trip.

He lowered his intercom and peered down at his phone, the text conversation he’d had with his boss, Joshua, still staring back at him on the screen.

Joshua

One person cancelled for the day. Daphne Parker. Maisie King should be there soon, though.

I know how you hate waiting. But please don’t leave any passengers behind this time.

Finn

I’m not making any promises.

A smile tugged at his lips. He’d never really left behind a passenger. Although he’d been tempted once or twice. And last year, he may or may not have driven away from Giant’s Causeway without his full tour on board, but that was neither here nor there. He would say, however, that nearly leaving that wee couple from Luxembourg in the visitor’s center had done the job. They hadn’t been late to his bus again, so…

Joshua didn’t need to worry about that happening again, though. Finn needed to receive decent feedback from his passengers this time around, and abandoning them at various tourist sites around Northern Ireland would hardly warrant those coveted five-star reviews.

He looked down as another text popped below the rest.

Joshua

You’ll be sorry if you leave this one behind. She’s from the States. Doesn’t look too shabby either, or so I hear.

Honestly, Finn was more drawn to the fact that the woman was from the States than if she was attractive or not. He loved Americans. They were the most fun on trips. Enthusiastic and energetic. Always up for a good time and a laugh.

But they were notorious for being late. At least, that was his experience over the last eight years as a tour guide, three for the company he drove for now, Northern Irish Roving Bus Tours.

He looked out the front window, then down the steps to where his bus’s doors were still wide open. Wide open and completely empty.

Where was that woman?

He rested his arms against the steering wheel and peered out in front of him, treating his eyes to the view of Belfast City Hall in all its Portland stone grandeur.

The tour always started there. It was easy to spot—what with its large structure and green-copper roofing—and certainly easy to get to, situated at the heart of the city. A city that he loved. But a city that he wanted to leave all the same.

Because he was a tour guide. A tour guide who just wanted to do his job but couldn’t because of a supposedly attractive, absolutely late American.

He straightened from his slouched position and scanned the city streets from the mirrors for any sign of her, but once again, he saw no one fitting the description of someone running late.

The later she was, the more restless the other passengers would become. The more restless they became, the more likely they’d be to start off the tour on the wrong foot, throwing off his groove and making him work harder for those five-star reviews. He needed those reviews to get the bonus up for grabs at the end of their fiscal year.

Because this time, the bonus wasn’t just for him.