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He raised his brows accusatorily, and a few more people laughed.
“Number four,” he said, “please remain seated while the bus is movin’. This seems fairly logical, but I can’t tell you how often people try to play musical chairs as I’m barrelin’ sixty down the motorway.” He looked to the older women at the front. “That goes for you, too, ladies.”
To his joy, they laughed again. This group was already leaps and bounds better than the last. Now if he could just get that American’s attention.
“Finally,” he continued, eying the crooked part in the top of her blonde hair, “I know for some of you, me accent can be difficult to understand. It can do your head in, to be sure. So if I’m sayin’ the word ‘wee’ too much or I say somethin’ you don’t understand like, ‘craic’, ‘dander,’ or ‘headbin’, just tell me…And I’ll do me best to help shut your bake and escort you off me bus.” He stuck his thumb over his shoulder toward the door and gave his best feigned menacing look.
The laughter was stronger that time, which thrilled him to bits. Yet, still, nothing from Maisie.
“Right,” he said, “now that’s out of the way, I’d like to officially welcome you to Northern Irish Roving Bus Tours. Or as I like to call us, Nirbt. Sit back, relax, and enjoy the scenery as we drive out of the city and through one of the grandest countries you’ll ever see in your life.”
The group cheered, clapping at his words as he moved to the driver’s seat and readied the bus for departure.
Finn secured his seatbelt with high spirits, shifting the bus into gear and pulling forward in the bus lane after ensuring he was clear. His seat rumbled in response to the loud engine, his ears filling with the sounds that had brought him great joy for the last near-decade.
He had a good feeling about this tour. It was going to be a fantastic two weeks, despite starting late. The only thing that would make his mood even better in this moment was some good, ole Irish music.
He reached forward to turn up the radio, not planning to speak again until the group got settled, but his hand froze on the volume knob when he glanced in the rearview mirror and finally caught sight of her.
The American.
Maisie King stared out the window with a pretty profile, soft pink lips, and dark eyelashes. He’d never seen anyone so perfect. Not in a fake, plastic kind of way either. In a real sort of way. Natural and stunning.
His front wheel ran directly into a curb he hadn’t been looking out for, and the bus lurched up and down in a boisterous fashion. His hand jerked forward at the same time, launching the volume knob forward, and music blasted out across the bus.
Gasps sounded behind him, yelps in unison from the older ladies at the front.
What an eejit he was. Swiftly, he turned the music down, righted the bus, and straightened out his wheels.
Once settled, he reached for the intercom.
“Apologies, folks,” he began, “I thought we were in a pub for a minute there. Startin’ a dance party, see. Don’t worry, though. Won’t happen again.”
He glanced in the mirror, ensuring everyone was well, but to his surprise, the one and only person watching him in the rearview mirror, the one and only person with a broad grin on her lips, was Maisie King.
Their eyes connected, and his heart stuttered.
Instead of looking away and paying attention to the road like a good bus driver, he took the time to smile, his eyes lingering on hers as she smiled in return.
Only then did he finally pull his gaze away to focus on the road—a road that was decidedly less attractive than the lovely American sitting six seats behind him.
Maybe Matthew could give him a pointer or two on how to keep the attention of a lovely woman from the States. His mate seemed to have done fairly well in that regard with Winnie.
Either way, this tour was going to be just fine. And Finn would definitely be messaging the lads about this American. Stragglers had always been the bane of his existence. But this one, perhaps, had been worth the wait.
CHAPTER TWO
Maisie King nudged her backpack farther beneath the seat in front of her, grateful to have both the front row and the one behind her entirely vacant.
She would miss Aunt Daphne on the tour today, but she couldn’t deny how nice it was going to be to have more space than she would with her aunt’s belongings encroaching on her own area.
They had been on some insanely full European tours together over the last few months, each bus more cramped than the last. But this was the first one where Maisie could actually breathe her own air.
Still, there was no such thing as too much space when traveling, so she continued pushing her backpack farther and farther beneath the seat until she could stretch out her legs without getting tangled in the straps.
After another swift kick, the backpack fell into place, and Maisie delivered a contented sigh that was muted only by the sounds of the Irish music playing happily throughout the bus.
With growing satisfaction, she eyed her makeshift home-away-from-home. Her blow-up pillow had been puffed up to the side of her, her small fleece blanket had been unfurled across her lap, and her pink car organizer—decorated with cute faces of round pigs—was stuffed with treats, snacks, electronics, and other comforts as it hung from the back of the headrest in front of the empty seat to the side of her.
