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She pulled in her lips, thinking of a response. “Please?” she tried first, holding her hands together in a sort of prayer.
He folded his arms and again shook his head firmly.
Maisie was fully aware this was making them even later, but they were both clearly enjoying this exchange too much to care.
Next, she raised a warning brow, then pointed her finger up and down directly above the QR code he’d mentioned the day before, suggesting that she would leave him a bad review if he didn’t let her on board.
Finn narrowed his eyes, pulling his lips to one side before ultimately opening the doors.
“Thank you,” she said chipperly from the bottom step.
“You think you’re clever, don’t you?” he asked.
“I am clever.” She took a few steps up the bus, dropping her confident smile to reveal a hesitant grimace. “Just as much as I’m sorry. I swear, this will never happen again.”
“Now when have I heard that before?” he asked, rubbing the stubble across his jaw. “Ach, that’s right. Just yesterday, after you were already late twice.”
“Yeah, but it was everyone else’s fault,” she said with overt innocence.
He pulled up the intercom. While still looking at her, he spoke to the rest of the bus. “Alright ladies and gents, allow me to apologize for the delay, but I’m chuffed to announce that Miss King here is goin’ to make up for it by providin’ us with some in-bus entertainment.”
Maisie probably should have been dreading what he was going to make her do, but she couldn’t help the lovely thrumming of her heart as he continued focusing on her.
“Now, I’ve got a wee book here filled with music,” he continued. “Miss King here’ll choose a song to sing—in the intercom—as we head to our next stop.”
Maisie shook her head. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
His widening grin proved just that as he handed her a small binder filled with sheet music of a handful of Irish songs.
Maisie looked through the sheets, making a mental note to thank her mother for forcing her to take singing lessons as a child when Maisie hadn’t wanted to. She wasn’t a great singer by any stretch of the imagination, but she could read music and hold a note well enough—two facts that were the only things keeping her from crumpling with embarrassment right now.
After choosing a song about Rathlin Island—“This one seems timely”—she took the seat behind Finn at his bidding.
“This’ll be beezer, I’m sure,” Finn said into the intercom. “Now sit back and enjoy as we head to the Dark Hedges on the voice of Maisie King.”
He handed the intercom back to Maisie. “Press this button to talk,” he explained, pointing to the one at the side. “And be sure to hold it back far enough or you’ll blast us back to Belfast.”
She reached for the intercom, her fingers brushing against his and shooting warm bolts of energy up her arm. He gave her a look, then faced forward, reaching over the corded intercom and putting on the music before driving forward.
Maisie pulled the cord toward her and drew deep breaths as the slow tune played out on an Irish flute, mandolin, and fiddle. Gathering her courage, she prayed she wouldn’t butcher the song because only Heaven and her childhood voice lessons could help her now.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Finn’s humor at the situation dissipated, melting away at the warmth of Maisie’s voice.
Most stragglers chose an upbeat song, missed half the lyrics, sang unrecognizable notes, and screeched louder and more off-tune than Bob’s brakes. Finn had fully expected Maisie to do the same, and he’d been ready to laugh along with her before he’d rescue her after a line or two—like he did with everyone he made sing on his bus.
But when Maisie’s voice rang out clear, soft, and unassuming, he gave an astounded shake of his head and clamped his mouth shut. This was just characteristic of Maisie, wasn’t it? Confident, willing to do anything, able to show up in every single way, whether it was walking in the rain, joining a bus tour alone, bike riding, or singing in front of a group of strangers on a bus.
She was just remarkable. At times, her singing was too slow for the music, and her notes rang out slightly pitchy every now and again, but Maisie corrected it each time, her performance enhanced because of the imperfections.
As he drove them to their next destination, the green fields opening up before them and the sea behind them, the skies still hanging low with heavy clouds, something else occurred inside of him that he hadn’t expected.
His smile was wiped away, and a solemn emotion overcame him, cradling him in comfort and peace.
He’d sung this song nearly every weekend with his mates in Belfast—the lyrics filled with grief of leaving one’s home behind—but never had it affected him in this way before. He felt the music take him away from his current strife, reminding him that there was more to life than work and stress, reminding him of how good his life really was.
Every now and again, he glanced at her in the rearview mirror, her eyes glued to the sheet music, hair falling over her shoulders in thick, blonde waves, and his breath was snatched away.
