Heirly Ever After by Vernon, Magan (best classic novels .TXT) 📕

gentlemen, please remain in your seats,” his voice boomed. “We are waiting for the storm to pass, then we’ll be on our way. No need to worry.”

I tried to focus on what else he was saying, but then another sound wafted to my ears.

Jacob stifled his laugh as he glanced at me, then mouthed, “Cruise director.”

Biting down on my bottom lip, I looked down at my lap so I wouldn’t burst out in my own fit of giggles, which probably turn into a snort fest. Traveling cross country with little sleep could get a girl slap happy.

To try and listen to the conductor, I pulled my sketchbook back out, absently scratching my pencil against the paper. Once I had a rough sketch, I leaned over the aisle, catching the eye of the Scottish stranger who was the closest person I had to talk to. If we were going to be stuck here a while, I figured sharing in the fun was better than being lost in my own head.

“Pssst, what do you think?”

I handed him the sketchbook, and he pulled it over to his lap.

His eyes flipped from the paper to the conductor a few rows ahead of us then back to the paper as he covered his mouth. His eyebrows raised as he tilted his chin forward as if he was asking, “Him?”

I nodded, looking down so I didn’t catch the eye of the conductor. The one who I just sketched outfitted in a life jacket and flower lei with the words “Don’t worry, a little rain won’t stop this cruise. Who wants to play Bingo?”

Jacob’s face scrunched, his cheeks pinched as his body shook, holding back his laughter.

Which of course started me on a fit of giggles of my own, my cheeks quickly hurting from smiling and trying not to snort out loud.

“Miss?” A chipper voice sobered me as I sat up straight, finding an older blonde woman pushing a cart. “Drinks? Snacks?”

Clearing my throat, I nodded, pulling out my purse. “Yeah, um, do you have Coke?”

She reached into the bin, pulling out a plastic bottle that was probably going to run me airport prices, but my throat was dry from laughing, and a little splurge couldn’t hurt.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got that.” Jacob’s voice rose over the cart, holding up something I couldn’t see on the other side.

“You don’t need to buy my drink,” I tried to say eloquently as I eyed him, but it came out in a rushed stutter of words.

“It’s the least I can do. Most I’ve laughed in years.” He paid the woman, who then pushed past us, off to the next row, dealing drinks and snacks, possibly to distract from the fact that the train was delayed.

Jacob held up the Coke bottle, his eyebrows slightly raised. Even in the dull overhead lights, the man had the brightest pair of green eyes I’d ever seen. They were like a spring meadow after an early rain, and it was a color I wished I could mix myself to paint.

“How about we share it? I have my hydro flask we can pour some in.” I fumbled through my backpack, trying to find the bottle somewhere in my bag amidst all of my other travel supplies.

“A flask? You got some scotch in there, too?”

“What? Is that even legal to transport overseas?” I asked, pushing aside an array of pens and scratch pieces of paper until I found my pink water bottle. My sister Natalie had given it to me as a Christmas gift when the forty-dollar hunk of steel had been what every girl had carried around campus.

Now, after living paycheck to paycheck for so dang long, it felt like a waste.

But I wasn’t going to let Natalie know that, especially since my sister was marrying an honest-to-god English lord.

Yup.

My sister hit the jackpot.

And I?

Well, I was flirting with a stranger on a train, stuck in the middle of the English countryside. But, damn, when he smiled, flashing that one dimple in his left cheek, it was hard to think of anything else.

“Ah, that seems to be more of a water bottle, not something I see some of the country folks carrying when they go to dry wheat in the back fields.” Jacob grabbed the bottle as I handed it to him, balancing the Coke in one hand and the bottle in the other, pouring the caffeine I so desperately needed.

“And are you one of these folks? Sir Jacob of the Wheat Fields?” I asked, thinking it was an innocent enough question to ask about his job.

His shoulders stilled slightly then jolted, spilling some of the liquid. It dripped down his hands and onto the floor.

“Ah, shite,” he muttered, setting both bottles down.

“Oh, eep, sorry, I didn’t mean to distract you. I might have some napkins in my bag.” I fumbled around again, hoping that magically something other than pencils would come out if I kept reaching.

“It’s all right, just taken a little off guard, I guess.” He pulled a white cloth from the front pocket of his blazer, dabbing at his hands then picking up my bottle, cleaning that off as well.

But it wasn’t so much a cloth as it was a…was it a hankie? Complete with a little embroidered dragon on the corner.

“I guess you could say I’m sort of a property manager. What about you, damsel? What’s your story?” he said as if nothing had just happened, handing me the bottle before tucking the wet hankie back in his pocket and stretching back out in his seat.

I took a big gulp of my drink, trying to think of an eloquent response.

“Well, I, uh, currently work at a diner.”

He smirked. “Thought you were one of those co-eds heading to the countryside for an adventure after graduation.”

I could blame my overtiredness or the recent breakup that had me smiling at the sexy Scottish guy with the whitest smile I’d ever seen. But ultimately it was just me who needed to pour everything out. “I was in