Chapter 3: Meet Scott McCallum

“I’ve kept your slice, like I promised, Lola,” he announced. “I would have made a plate for you but I didn’t know what you would like other than this.”

She smiled her thanks and went around to the other two tables, adding some chicken wings, potato salad, and greens. Then she found a stool at the bar and ate quietly, not minding that she was alone. It had been a long afternoon and though she knew she couldn’t leave too soon, she didn’t intend to stay until the end, by which time she knew people would be more than a little tipsy. She wasn’t a partying kind of woman, but it was nice to be out of her house, enjoying fellowship with other people for a change of pace.

She became aware of eyes on her, and turned to find the stranger standing by the door. He was staring right at her. Who the hell was he, and why was he watching her? Lola turned away and finished her food, determined to ignore him. The bartender asked if she wanted something to drink and she nodded.

“Something soft, please. Maybe a Shirley Temple.”

“Coming right up,” he said, smiling at her. A moment later, he slid a tall glass with her drink across the counter toward her. “Enjoy!:”

“Thank you.”

She sipped the sweet drink, enjoying the crisp fizz as it popped against her tongue. Once she finished eating, she eased off the stool and walked slowly towards the wide doors that led out to the gardens. She had been casting furtive glances at the door while she ate but her unwanted admirer had disappeared. Maybe he had finally taken the hint and she could relax. She could only hope. The room was too warm and since she didn’t plan to do any dancing anyway, she figured she would cool off by sitting in the garden for a while.

As she made her way down the steps and around the corner to where a couple of benches were set up, she wondered again what the man’s issue was. She didn’t think he was stalking her, but his obvious enthusiasm for her work was kind of unexpected. Some sixth sense told her this was the guy who had left the really insightful comment on the last chapter of her current online story and she stole another glance around her before she sat down.

Why would an obviously younger man, handsome, well built, and probably looking to have a good time, ignore the younger women who had been ogling him as he had stood at the door in favor of watching her. Had he been unaware of their attention? She didn’t believe that. Still, as long as he left her alone, it didn’t matter, did it? Wishing she had taken a glass of wine with her, she leaned back against the seat and breathed in the night air.

The sound of footsteps coming down the steps and around the corner to where she sat made her turn her head. She was tucked away in a secluded little nook, hidden almost completely from the rest of the garden by a tall flowering plant. The footsteps paused, then moved again resolutely in her direction. She made herself as small as she could and slowed her breathing when they came closer. She knew who they belonged to without even seeing him. What the hell?

The part of her that wasn't beyond irritated was irrationally amused that she, a woman just turned fifty, was running away from a handsome younger man instead of running toward him with open arms. Under other circumstances, she would have laughed aloud at the sheer absurdity of it. The footsteps came closer still and she almost stopped breathing, certain he would hear the din of her racing heartbeat.

"I know you're out here," the man’s deep voice said.

To distract herself and calm her pulse, because she knew she wasn’t in any real danger -- there were just too many people around -- Lola tried to place the accent. He wasn't American, nor was he English, so what was he?

"I just wanted to compliment you on a job well done on that last story. It went exactly as I envisioned it would. You made me feel like I was there. But we didn't have a chance to discuss my question.”

She panicked as she recalled that he had told her his name, which she now could not remember to save her life, when she signed his books. Dammit! She had always been bad with names. And what question did he have about the story?

"Please come out of hiding, Lola!" He obviously knew her name. How humiliating!

She remained where she was, hoping against hope that he would think she was really not there. But she knew her luck had turned when she saw the highly polished tips of an elegant pair of men's dress shoes stop by the bush and looked up to see him smiling in triumph at her from what seemed like a great height. She stood up, determined not to be at a disadvantage with him. He stuck his hand out, still smiling.

"Hi! I'm Scott McCallum, remember? I’m so happy I found you, Lola.”

She didn't really want to have anything else to do with him, but her hand seemed to have a mind of its own. She found it grasped by his large, strong one, engulfed and warmed. She looked up again -- he was a good six inches taller than she was, and her heart did a funny little flip at the observation -- and tried to rearrange her face into a smile.

"I’m not sure what question you could have for me, Mr. McCallum, but I'll be happy to answer it." she managed at last, feeling incredibly foolish and tongue-tied, her tone stuffy and prissy.

Up close, he was even more attractive than she had let herself notice before, but with defects that only added to his good looks, oddly enough. A thin white scar ran from the corner of his mouth up into the hairline on the right side of his face. His nose was slightly crooked, as though it had been broken and not set back properly, and another small scar marred one beautifully arching brow. His lips were thin, but they smiled sensuously at her, and the one dimple in his left cheek was adorable.