She wiped her cheekbones and looked at her fingers before cleaning her face. “Thanks.”
“You’re in luck because I’m the best planner there is. Any potential problem or scenario I’ve already thought of and solved. Marissa’s coming too. It’ll be our first girls’ outing!” I pulled my guidebook and flipped to the already tagged page for Connemara. “This is what I’m thinking.”
I reviewed the bus itinerary and showed them the pictures from my book. I couldn’t stop talking about Ireland and everything I wanted to experience. The beauty and mystique had taken over my heart, and I almost wondered if I would bleed green when I went home to America.
“Is there anything specific you want to do here?” I asked, noticing her noncommittal remarks during our conversation.
“Not really. I came to Ireland for the experience. The music, the pubs, and the people. Visiting specific landmarks was never really my thing, but I’ll do it. It’ll be fun.”
“What’ll be fun?” A deep voice with an Irish brogue broke up our conversation.
Jaime’s jeans dripped water from his waistband to his ankles, and the front of his pants were three shades darker than the back. His t-shirt pushed against his damp skin, and I could see the ripples of his abdominal and pectoral muscles peeking through like tiny mountains and rivers. My heart thudded, and I bit my lip to keep from smiling.
“We’re planning a trip,” Zoey said.
“Oh yeah? To where?” he asked.
“Connemara. Saturday. Want to come?”
He removed his shirt and wrung it out in the kitchen sink. His pale skin glistened.
I noticed no freckles across his broad shoulders and had to blink three times to reset my head. He’s filthy and lazy and totally not your type.
“Connemara? Yeah, I’ll come. I haven’t been in a while.”
Heat traveled through my core and settled in my hips. “Perfect.” I waved my brand new guidebook in front of us. “And thank you.”
“Eh, I owed you one.”
Chapter 8
The bus to Connemara was filled with people from all countries. The combination of accents floated above our heads before escaping out the open windows as everyone got settled. I sat beside Jaime, but I didn’t mind. I wanted to hear all his stories about his experiences growing up in Ireland.
The tour guide, Declan, stood at the front of the bus and pulled a microphone close to his lips. He was about as old as my father and spoke with a heavy accent. I struggled to understand him but laughed when everyone else laughed. I threw a glance at Zoey across the aisle and we both grinned.
He continued chatting about Galway City, County Galway, and the Wild Atlantic Way as the bus weaved through the narrow city streets. I looked past Jaime’s shoulder and leaned against him, just like he did to me on the plane. He stuck his hand in a potato chip bag, and I reached over and stole a chip. He pulled the bag closer and eyed me.
“What?” I asked. “You don’t like it when people eat your food?” I turned the corners of my mouth up slightly.
“Ha. Ha.” He returned to the window and ignored my body near his.
“So, dear roomie, what do I need to know about Connemara?”
He leaned against the window and looked at me. “Well, for one thing, they speak Gaelic.” He held up one finger and then two. “There’s a Benedictine abbey built in the 1860s and a national park surrounded by the Atlantic Ocean on three sides.” His two fingers transformed into three. “And, if you need to chat with a local, ask him about The Quiet Man. It was an American movie filmed in the 1950s and still a topic of pride today.”
I raised my eyebrows, surprised by his knowledge. “Very impressive. How do you know all this?”
“It’s where I grew up.”
I leaned away from him. He hadn’t ever opened up about his past before, and whenever I questioned him about himself, he answered with vague one-word answers. “No way!” I exclaimed. “You really are our personal tour guide for today.”
He tilted his head forward and tipped his invisible hat. “At your service.”
“Where in Connemara are you from?”
“Clifden. Ever hear of it?”
My mouth dropped open. “Have I heard of it? Have I—heard of it?” I felt myself become more animated at the mere mention of Clifden. I grabbed my guidebook and found the yellow tab halfway through the book. “Yes. Clifden is the first town listed under the Connemara section, and it’s on my list of things to see.”
