Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
The Hidden Village of Galboly had been another striking site filled with ruins of old stone houses, spectacular views of the sea, and more vibrant green grass than Maisie had ever seen in her life.
Finn had made the stop even more enjoyable as he walked around with the tour group, sharing history about the location and telling tales of the old dairy farmers robbing nearby travelers from the road below the village.
Maisie didn’t get much of a chance to speak with him one-on-one, but she still enjoyed the ambiance of the area—and, of course, receiving attention from him. His dark eyes always lingered a bit longer on her than on anyone else, and that knowledge made her stand a little taller whenever she was around him.
After the visit to the ruins, the group filed back onto the bus, ready to head to their final destination, Ballycastle, where they would be stationed for the rest of the week. Even though Maisie’s day had been way better than anything she had imagined, she had to admit how ready she was to get to the hotel, stretch back on the bed, and catch up with Daphne.
She only hoped the view from the room would include the sea. She couldn’t get enough of these low, cloaking clouds and churning waves just visible between the white, terraced houses of Ballycastle.
Even now, she hungrily ate the view, as if someone would take the visual plate from her if she dared a single glance away.
Of course, there was one thing that could draw her attention from the stunning sight, and that was the familiar click of the intercom overhead.
Attempting to veil her eagerness, she glanced at the front of the bus just as Finn began speaking, a smile already on her lips.
“Alright, ladies and gents,” he began, using the phrase she was beginning to realize was his go-to intro, “as you can see, our first day together has flown by and is comin’ to a close. Just a reminder, we will be off to Rathlin Island for our next adventure tomorrow. We’ll be boardin’ the Kintra II at Ballycastle Harbour at half eight, so plan accordingly.”
He rounded a bend in the road, his arms pumping around the steering wheel as they passed by an old, brown-stoned church, the bus clipping past parked cars with only inches to spare between them.
“As we wrap up, I’d like to say thanks for makin’ it a great first day. Some groups are as dry as me gran’s soda bread, but I can already tell bein’ with you is gonna be beezer.”
Beezer. That meant “great,” right? She knew it was very likely that he was speaking to the whole of the bus, but when his eyes flicked to hers for a moment, she couldn’t help but hope he was referring mostly to her.
“Now,” he continued, “I’ve two things to mention before you’re away. First, I reckon it’s time to introduce you to me best mate, and that’s this big orange bus we’re drivin’ ‘round in.”
Maisie shifted to the side to better see him. Or was it to have him better see her? She was beginning to crave his eye contact like she craved sea-salt caramel on her ice cream.
Unfortunately, his eyes remained on the road. She supposed that was for the best, though. They were close to those cars.
“Most folks think this bus is just a bus,” Finn said, “but they’d be wrong. He—aye, he —is more than a mere bus, see. He’s pure class, his engine never gives out, and he smells a sight better than public transit.”
A few people chuckled, including Maisie. He had a point. She and Daphne had been on some stinky buses across Europe.
“He’s not like them cars with naff electric motors, you know?” he continued. “With them, you don’t get that lovely whiff of petrol and fumes. All that black smoke pourin’ out the pipes. It’s dead refreshin’, so it is.”
More laughter sounded. Maisie sat a little taller in her seat.
“But all this had me thinkin’, see. Since I adore me bus so much, why in the name of friendship hadn’t I given him a name yet? Me mates all do with their cars. One’s got a Mini Cooper named Minnie . Another’s got a Tesla called Tess . Both solid names, I tell you. Proper creative, like.” He paused, taking another wide corner. “So I thought I should nab an idea from their books and pick a good name for me bus. A cracker one. Straightforward, no faffin’ ’round with names like Lorenzo or Maximilian. Ach, no. I call him…Big Orange Bus. But for short, he likes to go by Bob.”
No one reacted for a minute. Even Maisie paused, trying to figure out where he’d pulled Bob from, until finally, the words connected, and she laughed before others caught on with chuckles of their own.
Through the cracks between the seats’ headrests, Maisie could see the Waterstones a few seats ahead of her. It only took a quick glance to see that they appeared to be the only ones on the bus not enjoying Finn’s monologue. Mrs. Waterstone stared out the window with expressionless features, and her husband’s head was lowered as he no doubt still stared at his phone.
Maisie wasn’t surprised at their lack of response. Mrs. Waterstone was still probably upset about Trifle.
Still, everyone else seemed to be enjoying the ride. She glanced around, looking at the happy faces of each family and couple before settling on the young man and woman from Austria seated on the long bench at the back of the bus, their small child in the car seat between them.
Maisie eyed them for a moment. The little girl looked just older than a year, one of her chubby cheeks squished against her shoulder as her head lolled to the side in a deep sleep. The father pulled up her blanket, secured it under her chin, then reached across the car seat to hold his wife’s hand.
At the image of their sweet family, Maisie’s heart twisted, and she tore her gaze away, unwilling to allow her mind to stray from the present. She’d been to that mental place before—the place that existed only in her dreams—but visiting there only ever brought misery.
Instead, she faced forward as Finn spoke again.
“Now,” he said, “as we end our day and head out of Bob, you’ll find a QR code on the doors. If you scan that at any point on the tour, you’ll be sent to a website where you can leave a review for meself—and for Bob, if you fancy.”
Maisie glanced at the doors, seeing a small sign attached to the side of it.
“At the end of every fiscal year,” Finn explained, “Northern Irish Roving Bus Tours gives a wee bonus to the drivers with the best ratings from their passengers. So, if at any point during our tour you’d like to share your own feedback with Nirbt about your time aboard Bob, feel free to do so.” He pulled down a side road, and the sea came into view again, though Maisie’s eyes remained on him. “I won’t persuade you either way, but I’d be grateful for any review you can leave…and so would me family. With seven mouths to feed at home, receivin’ that bonus means they won’t go hungry.”
Shock struck through Maisie’s core. Seven? Finn had seven kids? Or was that a wife and six kids? Either way, her mind sprinted to find a conclusion on how he could have so many children—and on how he could be flat-out flirting with Maisie while he had a family at home.
Then she paused, staring at his eyes in the mirror with a narrowed gaze. Everything Finn had said that day had been in teasing or to get some sort of a reaction from someone. Was he doing the same thing now?
“I’m sure I don’t need to tell you mas and das this,” he continued, “but food’s gone up mad these last few years. I can barely keep one babe alive as it is, but seven? It’s near impossible. As a single Fish Da, I’m spendin’ at least five quid on ’em every month. It’s thievery, I tell you, the price of fish food goin’ up. Absolute thievery.”
There it was. Maisie grinned, shaking her head in delight. He had seven fish. Not seven children.
Thank goodness .
Not that he needed to be single, of course. She was just relieved she hadn’t been flirting with an unavailable man.
“Truthfully,” he continued, “I could get away with purchasin’ cheaper food if they weren’t the pickiest wee fish you ever knew. They’d eat caviar, if they didn’t know where it came from, like.”
Maisie shook her head, still relieved at the revelation.
“Anyway, I am lookin’ to get more, so if you fancy makin’ a real difference in the adoption rate of angel fish and guppies, scan that QR code when you get the chance, and I promise you, I’ll be a great da to ’em, no matter the price.”
Laughter trickled through the group, and Finn finally lowered the intercom. To Maisie’s delight, his eyes finally found hers again, and the shining mirth in his dark gaze was all it took to send her heart happily skipping along.
She would definitely be leaving a review for him, but it certainly wasn’t because of his fish.