Chapter 9
Bea
This flirting wasn’t coming as easily to Bea as she’d hoped.
And that her flirtee was one prickly customer didn’t help.
The worst thing was, each time he rebutted her, she became a parody of someone flirting.
First, she was spurred on by the whisky comment, and now she’d surprised herself by asking for a job.
It was awful but she couldn’t drop the act mid-scene.
That would be even more bizarre. Fortunately, she didn’t need to back out of the job pursuit: because of her father’s heritage, Bea owned a British passport and had the right to work in Scotland, so she hadn’t stepped down a dead-end close.
Except that she had come to Scotland for a vacation and her time should be spent either writing or taking in the sights.
She didn’t need extra responsibilities. Conversely, working for this Cal Butler guy might not be work at all – rather exceptionally enjoyable research.
‘I’m not hiring,’ Cal said flatly, putting Bea’s dreams to bed in a clinical manner.
‘Oh.’ She nodded and tried to perk up to cover her disappointment. ‘Not to worry. I’ll see if any of the other bars might be.’ This was a lie, as Cal Butler was the only drawcard to bartending while here.
‘Some will be. A lot of them have a quick turnover of staff. We treat our staff well, so we don’t.’
‘Okay, thanks for the tip.’ Bea made for the door, trying to appear casual but wishing she had another reason to stay and try to get to know this guy. As it happened, she didn’t need to.
‘You know you need a visa to work here?’ Cal said as she turned away. ‘I don’t mean to assume, but I thought you were a visitor.’
‘Ah, yes, well, I am a visitor, of sorts, but I also have Scottish heritage which allows me a passport and the right to work here.’
‘I see.’ Cal nodded. ‘That’s fortunate. Well, good luck.’
‘Yes, I am lucky.’ Bea flipped Cal’s good luck comment around to keep the conversation going.
‘I’m also a little remiss, because you already think I’m the rudest person on the planet, then I burst in here asking for a job without even telling you who I am.
’ She held her hand out for Cal to shake. ‘Bea Gracie.’
Cal reached out and encased her in his cool, firm grip. ‘Cal Butler.’
‘Nice to meet you, Mr Butler.’
He creased his brow as if confused at Bea’s sudden polite formality.
‘Cal is fine,’ he said. ‘So, you came over here for a working holiday?’ Manners must be the way to penetrate Cal Butler’s cool exterior, although he wasn’t exactly fervent in his inquisitiveness.
‘Yes, kind of. I’m a writer, and I came to write.
I set my next book in Scotland, but, well …
’ Bea laughed to mask her embarrassment.
‘I’m not a terribly successful writer, so I thought, why not immerse myself in life here by getting a job and getting to know the locals, learn about Scottish life, and earn a little money at the same time? ’
Was Bea imagining it or did Cal sharpen his gaze, scrutinise her? Did he know that this was essentially a lie, that she hadn’t come to Scotland intending to get a job? That until she had walked into this bar and asked if he was hiring, the only plan was to write?
‘What kind of stuff do you write?’ he asked.
‘Oh, it’s probably not anything you’ve heard of.’ If Bea were to admit that she wrote romance, then he might work out that she wanted to use him as a muse.
‘I’ve maybe not heard of you, but I’m sure I’ll know the genre unless it’s some new Australian vampire architect love story genre or something.’
Bea laughed. He did have a sense of humour. ‘Well, funny you should say that…’
Cal’s eyes widened.
‘You got the love bit right. I’m a romance writer. No vampires, architects or Australians so far, though.’
For a moment that could have been an hour, Cal examined Bea’s face. What on earth was he searching for? Or had he seen something? Worked out that she was tracking down a muse and had her sights on him? Was she that transparent?
‘I see,’ he said, finally. ‘Well, look, Bea...’
Oh goodness, maybe he was going to change his mind and offer her a job. That would be fantastic.
But Cal pulled her empty glass back to his side of the bar. ‘I have to get on. We open shortly. But all the best with your job search and time in Edinburgh.’
‘Oh yes.’ Bea slid off her bar stool thinking she must have been right about him seeing through to her muse plan.
‘I’m sorry for taking up your time. And thank you.
Look … why don’t I leave my contact details in case anything comes up here?
I’ve several years’ experience tending bar in New York City.
’ She rifled through her bag for a piece of paper.
‘I think I’ve a paper and pen in here somewhere. ’
As efficient as he was gorgeous, Cal pushed a small pad across the bar and passed Bea a pen. She scribbled down her name, her US mobile number and email address.
‘Sorry, I don’t have a UK cell yet,’ she said, ‘but I’ve added my email there too.’
‘Thanks.’ Cal glanced at what she’d written but gave nothing away about whether he might be in touch. Although he did ask how long she would be in town, which could mean that he was considering her potential as a member of his staff.
‘My flight home is three months from now, although it’s flexible,’ she told him.
‘Okay dokes,’ said Cal, whatever that meant. If it had a hidden meaning in it, Bea couldn’t work it out.
‘Well, I guess this is goodbye,’ she said.
‘Aye,’ said Cal as if not remotely bothered by the prospect of never seeing Bea again, which she supposed was understandable.
‘Enjoy the rest of your trip in Scotland.’ He walked her to the door, opened it and even let a smile inch onto his lips.
She mirrored the expression but had no choice but to bid farewell to the perfect Scottish man without having secured a third meeting.