Chapter Twenty-Six
Keeley
I’m melting.
Like, literally. We need a clean-up on aisle three because I’m an actual puddle.
Beckett’s guitar playing is beyond anything I’ve heard live. And he has a voice like butter. Sultry, smooth, melted butter that I want to order a vat of so I can drown in it.
It’s not just that, either. He has this… presence onstage. It’s just him, his guitar and the mic stand, but it’s almost overwhelming. His confidence, his pure and unadulterated charisma, forces you to stop what you’re doing and watch. Forces your breath to catch.
Holy moly was the man downplaying his talents with that bashful act of his.
He should be performing for the masses. Selling millions of records worldwide, flying in private jets, headlining Coachella, and booking out Madison Square Garden.
But instead, he’s here, in Serendipity Springs.
In cozy, warm, familiar Serendipi-Tea, singing for our townspeople.
Singing for me.
Because from the moment he took the stage, he hasn’t taken his eyes off me. And I haven’t been able to take my eyes off him as his beautiful, low voice sings an Irish song I vaguely recognize. A song that’s all about a girl with black hair and blue eyes.
Not that I’m reading into that part too much… okay, fine, I’m totally reading into it. And also wanting to jump up and down like a little kid with excitement because I have a freaking date with this unbelievably hot, talented man tomorrow night.
He sings the last line, strums the last chord, and there’s a moment of still, still silence. Like, you could hear a pin drop.
And then, everyone’s on their feet.
The applause is raucous. Thunderous.
People whistle and shout, “Encore!”
Nori looks like she could burst with happiness—her first Indie Music Night is a literal roaring success. Ezra looks beyond impressed, his eyes popping wide. Even Andrew’s taking part in the standing ovation, on his feet and clapping loudly.
And all the while, Beckett stands on the stage with his head slightly dipped and the tips of his cheekbones pinkening. The picture of humility.
“What a beautiful serenade.” Next to me, Sissy wipes away a tear as she turns to look at me. “That one’s a keeper, Keeley.”
I just nod dumbly. I wouldn’t dare trying to speak through the huge lump lodged in my throat, anyway.
Who knew music stirred up so much emotion in me?
My eyes meet Beckett’s once again, and he gives me a special little smile, sending my heart slamming against my ribcage.
Maybe it isn’t just the music, then…
I swallow the pesky lump, put on my biggest smile, and cup my hands around my mouth so I can cheer as loudly as possible.
* * *
After Becks closes the show, Serendipi-Tea doesn’t clear out for another couple of hours.
To Nori’s delight, people stick around, mingling, chatting, and sampling some of the teas and pastries on the menu.
And, of course, they want to talk to Beckett.
The man is a hot commodity, being dragged from conversation to conversation. I try not to let my hackles rise too much when a beautiful young blond woman places her hand on Beckett’s arm as she laughs at something he said.
I’m thoroughly placated when he looks down at her hand on his bicep, then gently releases his arm from her clutches with a murmured excuse and moves on to talk to a woman I recognize as Sammie’s mother.
Every time I think of his conversation with the little girl last week, my heart squeezes. I couldn’t hear everything through the window, but I heard enough to know how incredibly gentle Becks was with her. How he handled her emotions carefully and made sure not to disparage or discount her feelings as he led her to a place where she could see herself more positively.
It was nothing short of, well, swoon-inducing. Between that sweet moment with Sammie and his gentle joking with my grandfather, I have to wonder why on earth he thinks he would be a bad partner.
I’ve never seen a man so in tune with how others feel. Which I would think is a great quality in a potential partner.
“Want us to help clean up?” I ask Nori as I drain the last of my decaf mocha latte and set the cup on the counter.
“Us?” she squeaks. “You guys are an us now?”
My face takes on the color of a burnt lobster. “I just assumed that Beckett will want to help, too.”
“If you’re here, I’d say that’s a safe bet,” she says with a cheeky wink, then heads for the front door as the final stragglers step outside.
She turns the key in the lock, then puts her back against the door with a happy sigh. “Phew!”
It’s now just me, Becks, Nori, and Cash. Ezra disassembled the sound equipment earlier before he and Mae went to relieve their babysitter. And Hayden and her husband went home a while ago because he has an early start in the morning.
So, here we are. With a massive array of strewn cups, glasses, and empty cake plates.
“You got a broom so I can get cracking on this mess?” Becks asks, gesturing to the crumbs and napkins on the floor.
“He cleans, too?!” Nori stage-whispers—loud enough so he can hear, of course.
Beckett takes it in his stride, laughing as he rakes a hand through his already-tousled hair. “What can I say? My mam taught me well.”
I dart behind the coffee bar. “I’ve got something for us before we tackle the cleaning,” I say excitedly. I open the fridge to retrieve the six-pack of Guinness I brought in my tote bag. I hold it up high and look at Beckett. “So we can toast like true Irish people tonight.”
“Yes!” Cash whoops. “Nice one.”
“That’s so thoughtful of you, Keeley,” Becks says, and the smile that lights up his face makes my knees go a little weak.
“I’ve never tried Guinness,” I admit.
“Me neither,” adds Nori.
Becks shrugs. “Well, I’ve never had it from a can. But as they say, there’s a first time for everything.”
We each crack open a can and hold it up.
“Sláinte,” Becks declares.
“Come again?”
“Cheers, in Gaelic.”
“Sláinte!” we all cry in unison, slamming our cans together.
I take a sip and immediately regret it.
Guinness is disgusting. Like, super gross.
I try not to gag as I set down the can, wiping the foam from my mouth.
Yuck.
I see Nori wince in my peripheral vision and get the feeling that she’s not a fan either. But the boys sure seem to like it. As we continue to clean up, Cash and Becks sip on their cans. At some point, someone pairs their phone with the cafe’s Bluetooth, and upbeat pop music blares through the speakers as we laugh and joke together, recapping the highlights of the night.
Andrew and I never hung out with other couples like this—not that Becks and I are a couple, of course.
But Beckett has this breezy way about him that just seems to put everyone—me included—at ease.
I mean, Cash and Nori are both already treating Becks like he’s their lifelong friend.
It’s a nice feeling.
Beckett comes up beside me as I put away the last clean latte glass, and he slings a casual arm around me. “This was a good night,” he proclaims, and when I turn to look at him, I notice how loose his body language is, how bright and shiny his eyes are.
“Beckett McCarthy, are you a little drunk right now?”
His grin is equal parts sheepish and adorable. “I warned you I was an awful lightweight, didn’t I?”
This makes me laugh. “You did, I will admit.”
“Hey, Keeley?” His Irish lilt is even stronger than usual. “I want to say thank you.”
“What for?” I ask, turning fully to face him. I glance around to see if Cash and Nori are around, but they must be putting the last of the chairs into the back room because we’re currently very much alone.
He takes a step forward, his feet coming between my legs, his body hovering just an inch or two from mine as he effectively cages me in by the counter. His hand comes up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear, and his callused fingertips brush over the sensitive skin there as his eyes lock on mine. “For encouraging me to play tonight. For calming my nerves before I went up there. For buying Guinness and pretending to like it when you clearly hate it.”
“Busted,” I whisper, biting my lip as I hold his gaze.
“You had to have at least one flaw,” he says, his grin crooked, his hair mussed, his eyes sparkly.
“Believe me, I have many.”
“I don’t know about that,” he says, his voice low.
His fingertips graze the nape of my neck?—
“Annnnd that should do it! We’re all cleaned up and good to go.”
Cash’s voice fills the room as he and Nori reappear, looking a little mussed themselves, which makes me smirk. Beckett jerks backwards a little too fast, almost losing his footing as he stumbles slightly, then rights himself.
“Whoops.”
I smile. “C’mon, McTipsy. Let’s get you home.”
It’s a beautiful, balmy night, and the four of us decide to walk the two miles to The Serendipity under the stars.
Cash throws an arm around Nori, pulling her close. And as we set off, fingers brush against my hand—almost tentatively, like they’re asking a question.
A question there’s only one answer to.
My heart picks up as our fingers thread together, intertwining seamlessly.
It’s the perfect end to a perfect night.