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She and Daphne had arrived late last night in Belfast after a long flight from Sweden. With only airplane food for dinner and nothing but snacks since, Maisie was dying for some delicious, freshly baked goods.
And oh, was this bacon butty the stuff of dreams.
She took bite after bite, closing her eyes and shaking her head with each one before pulling out her small notepad from her organizer and jotting down a few notes.
This sandwich wouldn’t really fit with Daphne’s soup and bread restaurant, but Maisie would be stupid if she forgot to make this for herself when she got home—hence the entry in her journal.
A crackling sounded overhead, and the Irish music clicked off before the driver’s voice echoed down the bus. Maisie lifted her black pen from her notepad, pausing in her work to listen.
“All right, we’re officially on our way, ladies and gents,” he said, his accent so thick, Maisie had to strain to understand him. “As you can see, Belfast is flyin’ past us, but before I mention a few of the things we’re about to drive by, I did forget to mention one rule.”
He paused, his chair bouncing up and down as they drove over an empty crosswalk.
“Food is, of course, permitted on me bus. However,” he said, “should any of you bring somethin’ that smells as delicious as, let’s say, a bacon butty…”
Maisie stopped chewing, heat flooding her cheeks.
“The rule is,” he continued, “you have to bring enough to share with the group—or at least with me.” His eyes remained on the road as he went on. “Consider it a wee tax. It’s only fair, seein’ as how I’m the driver and have to suffer with such a delicious smell, all while bein’ unable to partake meself.”
Maisie looked around, a few of the people on the bus glancing back at her with amused grins, pegging her as the culprit already. As if her puffed-out, squirrel-like, reddened cheeks weren’t incriminating enough, the bacon butty in her hand was a dead giveaway.
Obviously, Finn was teasing, and no one looked offended at the smell of her breakfast. But how could she not have thought through the fact that the scent of the bacon would permeate the entire bus?
Curse this delicious food. She’d been charmed by its scent and its taste so greatly, she’d been completely oblivious to anything and everything else around her. Of course, it wasn’t the first time food had done that to her, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.
She tried to chew swiftly, anxious to swallow the condemning evidence, but Finn continued.
“So,” he began, “let’s have it. To the owner of that class bacon butty, be a decent spud and let me know who you are so I can accept me tax.”
Maisie didn’t have to wonder long if Finn really didn’t know who had the butty, as his eyes found hers in the rearview mirror in an instant, and they twinkled with knowing pleasure.
Now what was Maisie to do? Because as charming as this guy was, nothing was going to pry this divine food from her hands.
Nothing at all.
CHAPTER THREE
After another moment with Finn’s eyes on her, Maisie raised what was left of her butty in the air. “Yeah, that’s me with the bacon,” she called above the noise of the bus.
“Ah, she has revealed herself,” Finn said in the intercom, his chair still bouncing up and down. “Are you willin’ to pay your tax, then?”
Maisie swiftly shoved the final bite of the butty into her mouth and raised her empty hands. “Sorry!” she said, her words muffled with the great lump of food in her cheeks. “As luck would have it, I just finished.”
“Ah, shame, that.” Finn clicked his tongue in disappointment. “Well, no matter. I’m sure I can safely assume you’re from the States?”
She nodded, swallowing the last of her food, a smile still on her lips. “Yep!”
“Hmm,” Finn continued. “It’s just as well you finished the butty. You lot don’t have the best reputation when it comes to bein’ taxed, you know what I mean?” A few chuckles sounded. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’d rather see that bacon butty stuffed into Miss King’s mouth than dumped into Carnlough Harbor.”
“’Murica!” shouted a voice from the back.
Maisie laughed with a few others, glancing back to see the teenage boy who’d said the word proudly.
A young couple with a one-year-old baby girl smiled at the boy, too, clearly amused with his exclamation.
“We’ve got a few of you in here, then,” Finn responded. “Right, I’ll be sure to mind my tongue.”
He finished, his eyes now fixed on the road as the city buildings gave way to glimpses of the sea, and Maisie admired the gorgeous view of the ocean she was treated to. The water shone a deep blue, the sun’s light reflecting off the tips of the choppy waves as vast as the stars in the sky.
