Chapter 7
Bea
Bea hung up the call to Amira. She’d needed to debrief after the strange meeting with the man at the counter.
Despite not witnessing events, Amira would help her see that she hadn’t made a complete fool of herself.
But in Bea’s daze of chagrin, she had forgotten about the time difference, so the call was brief and she had let Amira go back to bed mere seconds after the man had left the coffee shop.
It was shocking to see him inches away from her as she declared into the phone she had ‘found him but lost him’, but she had assuaged herself with the insistence that he couldn’t possibly know she was referring to him.
Bea decided that even if the man was a lost cause she could use the encounter somehow, so she spent the next hour making notes about the new hero of her next novel, using him as inspiration.
But as she wrote, she became more and more intrigued about the actual person behind the cool and somewhat grouchy exterior.
Was there a way to meet him again? Perhaps she should have followed him out of the coffee shop when she had the chance: let him lead her to his place of work and…
Oh God, she sounded like a stalker.
But he was so handsome. And there was electricity – wasn’t there?
A short while later, Bea packed up her laptop, put on her coat and moseyed over to the counter to ask the barista another question.
She was less nervous than last time, due to not having to orchestrate a meet cute with a smouldering Scottish man.
This time her objective was simply to find out when he might be back here.
‘Um… you know that guy who was behind, or rather, in front of me in the line earlier,’ Bea asked the barista. ‘Does he come in here regularly?’
The barista gave Bea a knowing smile. ’He’s here from time to time.’
‘Oh, okay.’ Bea was disappointed that she couldn’t depend on meeting him here again tomorrow.
‘But his name’s Cal Butler. He owns Butler’s bar on Advocate’s Close. Pretty sure you’ll find him there most days.’
Bea’s face lit up. ‘Oh, thank you.’ She popped a couple of pounds into the tip jar. ’I’m sorry if I was rude before. I was a little preoccupied. The cake was exceptional though.’
‘No problem.’ The barista shook her head. ‘Good luck.’
The rain had stopped, and the sun was peeking through the clouds, so Bea headed back to the apartment with her head up, past colourful shop fronts and statues with tales to tell and crowds of tourists snapping photographs and soaking everything in whilst walking in the leisurely way that tourists did.
There was a vibrant energy that energised Bea, the caffeine pulsing thorough her veins and the thrill of meeting a gorgeous man no doubt assisting it.
She wandered into a vintage clothing store and allowed herself to purchase a cute peach cashmere sweater, on account of it being fall soon and the Scottish weather necessitating a warmer wardrobe than she had anticipated.
Back at the apartment, the walls were still dirty and the paintings still hideous, but Bea had a little more buoyancy.
She flexed her fingers and read the words below them: Cal Butler, Butler’s bar, Advocate’s Close.
A knot of nerves tightened in her stomach at the thought of essentially having to stalk the man if she wanted to see him again.
It was not in Bea’s nature to be so brazen.
But she didn’t have to think about that.
This afternoon, she could embrace her introverted side and channel the sexy vibes that meeting Cal Butler had generated into wonderful words on the page.
She would write as much as she could, then if she could meet him again and learn more, that would be even better.
On top of the story their encounter would become, imagine getting to know him and being able to tell him he was her muse. What man wouldn’t love that surprise?