Page 264 of Banter & Blushes

“What do we do now?” I ask.

He looks at me, and for a moment, I can see the wheels turning behind his eyes.

“I’ll handle it,” he says, giving me a reassuring nod. “Don’t worry, Becky. I’ll talk to them.”

I blink at him, genuinely surprised. “You’re just going to… talk to them?”

“Yep,” he says, already heading for the door. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

“Wait—” I start to protest, but he’s gone before I can finish. The door swings shut behind him, leaving me standing there with a growing sense of unease.

I peek out the window, watching as Keigan strides across the sand toward the photographers. He moves with the kind of confidence that makes me doubt he’s ever been told no in his life. I can’t hear what he’s saying, but he gestures with his hands a lot, his expression shifting between charming and firm. The photographers don’t look entirely convinced, but after a few minutes, they start packing up their gear and heading back toward the parking lot.

When Keigan comes back inside, he looks unusually serious. “They’re gone. For now.”

“For now?” I echo, raising an eyebrow.

He runs a hand through his hair, sighing softly. “Once they’ve got a lead, they don’t usually let go. They’ll stick around town for a while, see if they can get more shots.”

I nod slowly, trying to process what this means.

Before I can respond, the bell above the door jingles. Not with the familiarity of a regular but with a flurry of energy that screams out-of-town. A woman in a straw hat and wedge sandals practically skids to a halt inside, phone clutched in both hands like a treasure map.

“Is he here?” she whispers, eyes darting around me like she’s searching for clues in our facial expressions.

“Who?” I ask, even though I already know.

The woman clutches her chest dramatically. “Keigan—oh my goodness. It’s really you. My sister’s going to lose her mind. Can I… can I get a picture?”

I turn to Keigan, who, to his credit, looks genuinely sheepish. He opens his mouth to say something, butbefore he can, the door opens again.

And again.

And again.

By the time we reach mid-morning, there are seventeen tourists sitting at the bar, none of whom care about the imaginative names of my drinks. They only want one thing.

Photos.

Preferably ones where Keigan is smiling in the background and I look like the world’s most confused extra.

The side door creaks open just enough for Winston to squeeze through, nails tapping against the floor as he trots in like he owns the place. He pauses, surveys the crowd with narrowed eyes, then lets out a low growl that I don’t bother shushing.

“Okay,” I say, clapping my hands once, more for my own sanity than anything else. “If anyone here is planning to order something, now would be a great time to do it. Otherwise, I’m going to start charging by the stare.”

A few chuckles ripple through the crowd, but no one moves. One woman tries to angle her phone to get both Keigan in the frame, completely ignoring me. Keigan stands and clears his throat.

“Alright folks,” he says, sounding more like a sitcom dad than a movie star, “I’m going to respectfully ask that you all give the lovely owner here some breathing room.”

A few people murmur apologies. Some shuffle out. Others linger in that awkward way people do when they’re not sure if the party’s really over.

Once the door finally swings shut and the bar returns to its usual background track of ocean waves and easy silence, I grab a rag and start wiping down the counter even though there’s nothing to clean. The motion gives my hands something to do while my brain catches up. Keigan stays by the wall, arms folded, gaze tracking me like he’s not sure if I’m about to throw something or cry.

“So,” I say, not looking up. “You know Pam from the marina?”

He hesitates. “I don’t think so?”

“Blonde, talks fast, smells like sunscreen,” I say, still scrubbing at the same invisible spot on the counter. “She came in here an hour ago, clutching her phone like it held state secrets. Said something about a photo going viral. Said her niece sent it to her. Something about how I was ‘official’ now.”

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