Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
Finn paused, looking out at the sea, then over to the streets of Ballycastle. He could’ve sworn he’d heard a voice on the wind, but no one was there. Had he?—
“Up here!”
He swung around, distinctly hearing the voice from behind him that time.
His mind took half a second to register who the beauty was standing above him. Full, blonde waves blowing in the wind. Dimples in her cheeks as she smiled down at him.
Excitement rushed through him.
“Hello, there, Maisie,” he greeted, raising his voice to be heard above the sea. “What you doin’ out here, then?”
He wasn’t surprised he hadn’t seen her until now. He’d been too busy focusing on not slipping on the rocks and impaling himself on their pointed ends to see anything else.
“Just enjoying the view,” she responded, leaning her arms against the railing of the bridge.
He narrowed his eyes. “Just exactly how long’ve you been watchin’ me now, Miss King?”
Her lips parted, and she paused. “Oh, I wasn’t…I wasn’t meaning that I…I wasn’t staring at you or anything. ”
This was his favorite part about teasing, watching the person scramble to right themselves. It was even more enjoyable watching Maisie do so as her cheeks shone a warm pink.
“There’s no call to be scundered, like,” he continued, “I know I’m dead handsome, so why wouldn’t you want a wee stare?”
She made to speak again, then shook her head, pulling in her lips and causing her dimples to deepen even further. “I’m just gonna stop talking now.”
He chuckled. “Are you out here alone?”
“No, my aunt’s just up there.” She motioned to the end of the bridge.
His eyes followed to where a woman stood near Pans Rock, her long parka zipped up to her chin and hood tucked securely over her head.
“Ach, aye, the famous auntie,” he said, noting the woman on her phone, animatedly talking with her hand in the air.
“Yup,” Maisie responded. “She’s got some business to take care of right now, but I’m sure she’ll be off the phone soon.”
Was she saying that for him to stay so he could meet her? Or was she wanting him to leave before her aunt was done?
Eh, he’d rather believe the former.
“Business,” he said. “On holiday? That’s not right, that.”
Maisie shrugged. “That’s kinda why we’re here, actually.”
“You came to Norn Iron for business? Can’t say I’ve heard that before. Lookin’ to run a bus tour yourselves in the States?”
“Oh, I’m definitely not entertaining enough to have my own bus tour.”
“Ach, you wee flatterer.”
She blushed again but this time didn’t bother to correct him.
“Now stop your flattery, or I’ll be gettin’ a big head.” He winked, and the smile he was rewarded with was enough to convince him that making her grin was the most accomplished he’d felt since obtaining his bus operator’s license.
Although, now that he thought of it, he was dead certain Maisie hadn’t stopped smiling since the first time they’d locked eyes in Bob’s mirror. It was refreshing, seeing someone so chuffed. Not just surface-level, either. Hers was a proper joy that seemed to beam right from her heart.
Was that true, though? Was she really that happy deep inside? He hadn’t met very many people who could claim that. He couldn’t at certain points in his life. He was happy enough now, but he definitely didn’t radiate joy like she did.
“So what business is it, then?” he asked next.
“Research, mostly,” she said, giving nothing more.
“Are you tryin’ to make this conversation a challenge by givin’ me one- or two-word answers?” he teased. “Or are you just not wantin’ me to pry and this is your polite way of tellin’ me to stop bletherin’?”
Her blue eyes shimmered with delight, and an image was brought to his mind of when his mate, Matthew, had made him watch Romeo and Juliet when they were at college together.
The play had been mind-numbingly boring—not to mention utterly stupid in the way it wrapped up. But now, Finn could almost understand it. If that Capulet girl looked even slightly like Maisie did right now, staring down at him from the bridge with that inner glow lingering around her despite the dimming light of the sun…he could see himself pulling a Romeo from the bottom of a balcony and going completely mad over a woman, too.
“No, I just didn’t want to bore you with the details,” she finally responded. “It’s nothing too exciting. Aunt Daphne is planning to open up a restaurant back in Boston, so I’m here to help with the research for the menu.”
The pieces of the puzzle he’d picked up from watching Maisie all day slowly fit together. “Ach, the notebook.”
Her eyes snapped to his. “Notebook?”
“Aye, I saw you scribblin’ away at Doherty’s.”
She chewed on her lower lip. “Oh, I, uh, wasn’t aware that anyone was watching me.”
“Bleedin’ hard not to notice a beautiful woman sittin’ at the back of a café, writin’ away ’stead of eatin’ that cracker soup right in front of her.”
Did he just drop the word ‘beautiful’? Aye, he did. Was it inappropriate? Probably. But he wasn’t on the job right now, so, as Shakespeare would say, “All’s fair in love and war.”
…Or was that Sophocles? Lyly? Aristotle?
Ach. He’d never been much of a scholar.
“So,” he began again, “the next question that begs bein’ answered is this: what exactly do you write in your notebook?”
She looked away, still blushing. “Oh, just notes and stuff. Sketches. Ingredients. Anything that helps me to remember what food I really liked and what meals should be on the menu.”
“So it’ll be a Northern Irish restaurant, then?”
“Partly. It’s more of an international soup and bread restaurant, so we’ve been on an extended tour around Europe tasting the best we could find.”
“The vegetable soup suggestion was dead on, then.”
“Oh, more than you know,” she returned. “That one is absolutely going on the menu. We’re hoping to include some of the chef’s trade secrets so we can have the faces behind the meals we choose. The owner of Doherty’s seemed kinda interested, so here’s hoping.” She raised crossed fingers.
“Oh, aye?” he asked. “Well, Mrs. Doherty’s an old friend of me ma’s. I could have a chat with her if there’s any concerns on her part workin’ with you. Let her know you aren’t completely mad.”
She straightened on the bridge. “Would you? That would be amazing!”
“No bother at all.”
Her grin continued, their eyes meeting again, and he wondered if he should just stop faffing around and join her on the bridge.
But then, her aunt…
His eyes trailed toward the woman, expecting to see her still wandering around with her hand in the air as she spoke on the phone. Instead, her eyes were fixed securely on Finn, like a cat to an intrusive vole digging tunnels through a garden.
He knew nothing about this Daphne Parker, but he did know a thing or two about protective guardians, and this woman had that responsibility written all over her no-nonsense expression.
As such, he planted his feet more firmly in the sand. No need to aggravate the woman by drawing closer to her niece. But he would be sticking around to settle Daphne’s clear apprehension of him. After all, he could charm the socks off anyone. Even that sour Mrs. Waterstone would be on his side—and Trifle’s—by the end of their trip.
“What parts of Europe have you seen, then?” he asked Maisie next.
She counted on her long fingers as she rattled off the countries. “Let’s see. There’s been Spain, Italy, France, Germany, Austria, Sweden, Switzerland, Poland, and now, Northern Ireland. Our last stop.”
Finn’s brows raised. “That’s quite the trek.”
“Yeah, it’s been pretty crazy.”
“Grand to see you’ve saved the best for last, though,” he said.
“Oh, I did that on purpose. I have some great, great, great grandparents who emigrated from here, so I’ve always wanted to visit. I’ve been looking forward to coming here all summer.”
Was she just saying that to butter him up? It was certainly working.
“And you’ve taken notes on the food you’ve had in every single country?”
“Yeah. I almost filled the whole thing.”
She patted a hand against the side of her coat. Was that where she stashed the notebook? Did she always have it with her?
A gust of wind blew past her, pulling a strand of hair into her mouth, and he watched in amusement as she fished it out with her forefinger and thumb.
“Do you ever show those notes to anyone?” he asked. “Entertainin’ tour guides, per’aps? ”
He watched the tip of her tongue run along her bottom lip before disappearing inside her mouth. She wasn’t trying to be alluring, but he was grateful for the cool wind right now to settle the warmth rising in his chest.
Maisie shook her head, finally beating her battle with the hair. “Ah, I dunno. I usually don’t show it to anyone. I don’t want people to think I’m weird or anything.”
Finn didn’t know why, but now more than ever, he needed to see inside those pages. In fact, he was more than ready to make that his next life’s mission.
“Boys a dear. D’you know who you’re talkin’ to? I just admitted to callin’ me bus Bob. Why’d I ever think you’re the mad one?”
She laughed. “You have a point.”
“So…when do I get to see those notes, then?”
“Um, I?—”
“Maisie?”
Finn and Maisie both turned their gazes to where Daphne appeared at Maisie’s side. Apparently, neither one of them had noticed her approach until that moment.
“Daphne,” Maisie said, her eyes nervously shifting to Finn, though her smile remained. “This is Finn O’Meara. He’s the bus driver and tour guide.”
Daphne’s laser-like focus fell on Finn again, and though she smiled, the suspicion in her narrowed eyes and tightened lips was unmistakable.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. O’Meara,” she said stiffly, though she was clearly doing her best to smile. “I’m Daphne Parker.”
She had obviously already made up her mind not to trust him, though he had no idea why. Did she just disapprove of the flirting that was going on between him and Maisie? If it was one-sided, sure, but Maisie was clearly enjoying herself, too.
Ach, well. It was nothing he hadn’t dealt with before. Time to turn up the charm. Soon she’d see that there would be no trouble between him and her niece .
Not real trouble, anyway.
He set aside his cheeky grin and faced Daphne with a respectable nod, then peered up at her on the bridge. “Pleasure meetin’ you,” he said. “I was just havin’ a blether with your niece here ’bout your restaurant over in the states. Sounds like a cracker of an idea, it does.”
“Thank you,” Daphne said. “We’re really excited about it.”
Her eyes flitted toward Maisie’s with knit brows, and Maisie’s smile faltered for the first time that day.
Finn looked between them. Should he leave? Naw, might as well have one more go.
“I hear you’ve been all around Europe,” he offered.
“Yes,” Daphne responded, her features softening as she continued looking at her niece. “It has been wonderful traveling together.”
Finn looked between them. Aye, this wasn’t working. “Well, I hope your time here will be a craic, too.”
Daphne drew a deep breath, her eyes remaining on Maisie’s. “Thank you, but…I’m afraid that won’t be possible.”
Finn paused, and Maisie did the same.
“Wait, what? What’s wrong?” she asked her aunt.
Daphne was already shaking her head. “It’s not going to work. They need us back in Boston. Now.”
Finn’s stomach knotted like Gran’s ball of yarn he had to continuously unwind as a child. Maisie was leaving? The place she’d said she’d been looking forward to going the most—and she was leaving?
He glanced over at her, the shock and disappointment snatching the smile from her lips and the light from her eyes in an instant.
“But…we just got here,” Maisie said.
Finn could hear the deflation in her tone. He was feeling it himself.
Surely whatever trouble they were having could wait until after the tour. Surely her aunt would put her niece first. Or would she leave Maisie on her own for the next two weeks like she’d done today?
His mind continued coming up with solutions to a problem that wasn’t even his until he saw Daphne’s needle-eyed gaze dip on him again.
That was his cue.
“I’ll leave you ladies to it,” he said briefly. “Mrs. Parker. Maisie.”
Maisie’s eyes found his, and a moment passed between them that spoke more than words could. Feelings of disappointment shared by both. Of sorrow from Maisie. And at least in Finn’s regard, a deep regret of not being able to get to know this one-of-a-kind woman better.
He tipped his head to her in departure, and she gave a solemn smile before he turned around and walked away, all the while dwelling on the notion that this tour had changed within minutes from being the best to significantly less.
And it was all because he feared he wouldn’t be seeing Maisie King again.