Page 269 of Banter & Blushes

That earns a ripple of laughter from the room, and I cross my arms, watching him with narrowed eyes. What is he up to?

“But,” he continues, his tone shifting to something softer, more genuine, “I’d be lying if I said the real star of tonight wasn’t the person who made all of this happen. Because while I’ve been walking around taking credit for auctioning off birdhouses and signing autographs, there’s someone here who’s been working tirelessly to make sure this event is not just a success, but a night to remember.”

My stomach drops. Oh no. Oh no no no.

“So, can we all take a moment to give a huge round of applause to Rebecca Perry,” he says, looking directly at me now, his eyes warm and unwavering, “and her incredible staff at The Clever Lime, for not only hosting this event but for being the heart and soul of this community. Becky, you’re the magic that makes this place what it is, and we’re all better for it.”

The room erupts into applause, and I feel every single set of eyes in the room turn to me. My face is on fire, my heart pounding so loudly I’m sure everyone can hear it. I shake my head, trying to wave it off, but Keigan just grins like he’s enjoying every second of my mortification.

“And while I’m at it,” he continues, his voice cutting through the applause with ease, “I should probably mention the reason I’m here tonight—besides desperately trying to impress Becky, of course.”

That earns a low chuckle from the crowd and an audible gasp from Clara, who I can feel staring at me from across the bar.

Keigan’s grin softens as he gestures to the banner behind him, where the name of his latest movie is printed in bold letters. “I know a lot of you might’ve come tonight because of the movie—or, let’s be honest, because of me.” He winks, and the room laughs again. “But what makes this event truly special is the cause it’s supporting. Every single dollar raised tonight is going directly to the Coastal Restoration Fund, helping to rebuild homes, businesses, and lives right here where it matters most.”

The crowd claps again, this time louder, and Keigan raises his hand to quiet them. “Which brings me to the best part of the evening,” he says, his smile widening. “Thanks to all of you, I’m thrilled to announce that we’ve raiseda grand total of $250,430 tonight.”

The room erupts into cheers, and I feel a lump rise in my throat as I glance around at the beaming faces of our regulars and the tourists who’ve somehow come together to make this happen.

Keigan waits for the noise to die down before leaning into the mic one last time. “So, thank you. Thank you for showing up, for giving so generously, and for reminding me why small towns like this are where the real magic happens. And Becky,” he adds, his voice dropping just slightly as his eyes meet mine again, “thanks for letting me crash your party. I promise I’ll try not to break anything. Go see Ryan Killshot, everyone. Coming to a theatre near you.”

The laughter that follows is warm and genuine, and as Keigan steps off the stage, handing the mic back, I realize I’m still standing there, clutching the tray like it’s the only thing keeping me grounded.

He makes his way back to me, that confident smile still in place, and leans in as the crowd begins to disperse, the hum of conversation rising again. “So,” he says, his voice low enough that only I can hear, “how’d I do? Too much?”

I shake my head, unable to stop the smile that’s tugging at my lips despite the fact that I’m still blushing furiously. “Maybe,” I say softly, my voice barely steady.

“Maybe,” he echoes, his grin turning a little softer, a little more real. “Maybe you’re worth it.”

And just like that, I’m blushing all over again, my heart doing that ridiculous flip that I’m starting to think might be permanent whenever he’s around.

CHAPTER 13

The late afternoon sun dips low over the horizon, painting the beach in hues of soft gold and rose. The Clever Lime hums with life—the chatter of regulars mingles with the clinking of glasses and the occasional laugh that rises. The small adjustments I’ve made to the bar over the last few weeks—stringing more fairy lights, adding a couple of high tables near the windows, and swapping out the old jukebox for one that doesn’t eat quarters—seem to have hit the sweet spot.

It feels… right. Cozy. Still ours. The regulars have their usual spots, the tourists get their social media moments to post, and somehow, it all works.

I’m behind the bar, wiping down the counter and keeping an eye on the crowd when I hear his voice.

“Hey, boss lady, you got room for some free labor?”

I glance up, and there he is, leaning casually in the doorway like he owns the place, his hair windblown and a mischievous grin tugging at his lips. Keigan, in all his movie-star-meets-beach-bum glory. The regulars cheer his arrival, lifting their glasses like he’s some kind of local celebrity, which, let’s face it, he kind of is now.

“You’re late,” I call back, pointing my rag at him.

He saunters in, hands in his pockets, his grin widening. “Traffic on the boardwalk was brutal.”

“You walked here,” I say, narrowing my eyes at him.

“Exactly,” he says, hopping onto an empty barstool like he’s been doing it his whole life. “Those seagulls are relentless. Had to fight them off with a bag of fries.”

I shake my head, but the corners of my mouth betray me, twitching upward despite my best efforts. “If you’re going to sit there and take up space, you might as well make yourself useful.”

“Always happy to oblige,” he says, hopping off the stool and sliding behind the bar with an ease that makes it clear he’s done this before. He grabs an apron from the hook and ties it around his waist, looking entirely too good.

“Don’t you have, I don’t know, a movie premiere to attend or something?” I ask, raising an eyebrow as he starts stacking clean glasses.

“Not tonight,” he says, his tone casual but his eyes glinting dangerously. “Tonight, I’m all yours.”

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