Page 42 of Only One Tour Bus

“Thanks.” He rubs his neck at the praise. “Anyway, I was going to visit Hatfield House today. Get a day out of the city. Do you want to come?”

“Oh, I’ve been wanting to see that house.” I was already thinking of going there today in fact. Well, it was one on a list of like twenty places I wanted to see and could have visited today. I was going to decide at the train station.

But that would mean more time with Callum, which yesterday didn’t seem like a cheerful prospect. He’s been trying to be nicer since this morning. He’s given me multiple compliments, awkward and stilted and backhanded though they may have been.

And I don’t know if I would have reacted this way if someone else had said the same thing to me that he did. I didn’t when Rob said basically the same thing before the tour. I might get a little uncomfortable knowing people don’t like me, but this is beyond discomfort.

Maybe it’s unfair to him to put more weight on Callum’s words. I don’t even know why I am. So I should let it go.

Eh, I was never that great at holding grudges anyway. It’s a wonder I managed to keep up this anger for a day and a half. Especially with him making an effort…or an effort for him. “Sure. I’d love to, thank you.”

“Oooh, where are you guys headed?” Jennifer asks as she and her family walk up to the couch.

“We’re going to Hatfield House, the childhood home of Queen Elizabeth.”

“That sounds great! Can we tag along?”

I cough to cover the laugh that wants so desperately to break out. It’s about as successful as a Band-Aid covering a hole in the Hoover Dam, if Callum’s glare is anything to go by.

Because I’m sure this is his worst nightmare.

CHAPTER 18

CALLUM

Not this.

This is why I don’t offer to see anyone on free days. It’s too easy to get trapped in an extra day of work, when the free days are the only rest and time off we get on this job. A job where we have to be on for days at a time, on little sleep, with late nights and early mornings.

But I am supposed to work on being more helpful to the clients; being more Asha-like. Asha would say yes to this. Asha would love the extra time she got to spend with these energy leeches.

So even though this is going to be miserable, I smile and say that we would love to have them along. But the smile might not be as bright as Asha’s always are, because the family takes a collective step back.

Hey, I’m new at this. And it’s not exactly easy, so maybe I should be given credit for the bit that I do accomplish. At least Asha is looking appropriately impressed with my effort. She’s nodding encouragingly and even pats me on the arm.

I send another cheerful look at the family in front of us. See, Asha is impressed with my smile. And sunshine women know smiles. But apparently this smile is even more feral than the other, because it’s one more step back. I abruptly drop the smile.

“Of course we don’t expect you to take us around when we get there, as this is not included with the tour. But we would appreciate you letting us tag along so we don’t get lost,” Jennifer says.

“Of course.” Asha smiles at them, and they smile back. They even take a step toward her.

What is she doing that I’m not? I get it, her smile is beautiful. Stunning. It’s a movement she’s clearly comfortable with because of thousands and thousands of practice smiles. And mine might be a little rusty, but it isn’t exactly rocket science.

Lips curve up. If I’m feeling especially overjoyed, add some teeth.

So why does her smile have such a different effect than mine on the world? Why does her smile have such a different effect on me than anyone else’s?

A damn mystery is what that is.

“I think it’s a right here.” I scratch my head, experiencing one of the worst parts of this job: getting lost in front of strangers who you’re meant to be leading.

I thought I knew where I was going. I haven’t been to this particular historic house, and it has less signs from the train station than most, which is less than ideal, but it’s a damn big house in a small-ish village. How is it so good at hiding?

“I’ll just check.” Asha gets out her phone to use the GPS. Yes, that would have been the smart thing to do. But I wanted to impress her with my ability to direct us without tools.

She swipes at the screen and the technology magic works. “It’s a left, then a right to the back entrance. But the front gate was right outside the station we were at ten minutes ago.” She smiles at me tentatively, probably worried about my reaction to the news.

“Unnecessarily difficult historic site.”