Page 79

With anyone else, Maisie would never have been convinced. But just like on the bridge, the trust she held for Finn beckoned her forward, and she placed her hand in his.

Sparks exploded around them like fireworks on the Fourth of July, and the crowd grew louder. His fingers gripped hers tightly as he turned around and led her through the pub, weaving through the individuals who smiled at them both in delight.

This had to be against the rules, but she was in no state to decide, feeling like she was in a trance, holding Finn’s hand, walking up to a stage where she was about to sing with a Northern Irish heartthrob.

Her head was spinning, but not in a dizzy way. In a delirious, dream-like manner that made her feel like she was flying.

When they reached the stage, Finn led her up the small steps that elevated them just slightly above the rest of the pub. She glanced at the bandmates, who exchanged looks before greeting her with waves and nods of their own.

Finn held her hand still as he pulled her toward the mic, his fingers warm, protective—even possessive.

He reached down to a case nearby, pulling out the same binder of music she’d read on the bus and extending it toward her. With her free hand, she accepted it as Finn shifted the mic closer to his lips.

“In’t she class?” he said into the mic.

The crowd cheered, a few people whistling, and Maisie’s face, though burning before, was a veritable furnace that could’ve heated Bob and all of his passengers, beside.

“She’ll not forgive me for this,” he said next, glancing down at her with a daring smile.

She shook her head. “Nope, I won’t.”

He laughed, glancing back at his mates with a nod to signal for them to begin. He released Maisie’s hand for only a moment to adjust the mic to sit between them, then he draped his arm around Maisie’s shoulder and pulled her in, holding her closely against him.

“So the mic can pick up us both,” he explained, whispering in her ear. But when he pulled back, the look in his eyes told her that was as much of an excuse as it sounded.

Her breathing halted completely. If she’d had any hope of singing before this, it was now completely gone.

The tin whistle, played by an auburn-haired, burly man, began first, and Maisie and Finn turned slightly to watch him as the music rang out smooth and stirring, just like the track on the bus. Eventually, the guitar chimed in, then the violin and the soft beating of the drums.

Maisie directed her attention to the music sheet in her hands, a single page front and back with the lyrics clear as day for her to sing. She kept her focus solely on the words, knowing if she looked up at the audience watching them, she may very well pass out.

She’d thought walking across a bridge was scary, but this was a whole other beast entirely. And yet, when the song began, and Finn’s arm tightened around her, the fear she felt was soon swallowed up in his tight hold of her.

Her first note was a bit pitchy, though she quickly corrected herself as Finn’s voice rang out beside her, rich and raw. She’d loved listening to him through the bus’s intercom, but here, standing right beside him, she thought she might explode from the attraction she felt for him.

As the song progressed, Finn swayed back and forth, and she followed his lead, her voice picking up as her confidence increased. For a brief moment, she took courage, glancing out at the audience to find a few of them singing along as well.

During the chorus, Finn changed keys, singing the part in harmony with her, and though Maisie’s singing wasn’t flawless, each squeeze from Finn’s hand, each stroke from his thumb against her shoulder, caused a pleasant humming to thrive in her stomach, and she was encouraged to keep going,

When the song finally drew to a close, the pub erupted in cheers, and Maisie drew a deep breath.

For the first time, Finn released his hold of her, stepping off to the side and holding out two arms fully outstretched toward Maisie, as if he were presenting the crowd with a marvelous creation.

“Maisie King!” he shouted.

More whistles occurred, and Maisie awkwardly waved at the crowd after a little bobbed bow, then she turned to Finn with a look of pleading.

Understanding his assignment, he took her hand again and led her off the stage. At the bottom, she thought he’d give her a departing wave goodbye, but he paused, leaning in close to her and whispering in her ear, “Stick ’round, will you?”

His breath on her ear made her nod instantly, and the smile across his features as he pulled back made her realize again that she would do anything this man asked her to.

His eyes lingered on her a moment before he returned to the stage, and Maisie watched him with a smile that couldn’t be wiped away.

Planning to wait for Finn at the bar, Maisie turned around, making it halfway through the crowd before a group of people—three men and a woman with brown hair past her shoulders—circled around her.

Maisie’s feet planted to the floor.

“Hi,” the woman began, her voice slightly raised to be heard above the music.