‘While I’m here,’ the woman said, moving away from the accent offensive, ‘I’d like to apologise again for pushing in front of you in the coffee shop.’
‘There’s no need. Truly. I’m a big lad and I’m over it. Worse things happen in here every night.’
‘Well, that leads to why I’m here.’ The woman put down her glass. ‘Assuming you’re the boss. You could just be an incredibly capable bartender.’
Cal stiffened. ‘Yep, I’m the boss. What do you want?’ He was aware he sounded brusque but he needed tocommunicate to this woman that he wasn’t in the mood for flirting, if that was what she was trying to do.
‘Well … ‘Almond Mocha Redhead tilted her head to one side, met him dead on with her sapphire eyes dazzling under lusciously long lashes, and hit him with a question he hadn’t been expecting. ‘Are you, by any chance, hiring?’
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 anyof 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...’
