Page 68 of Bennett

“Truly.” She smiled, then let it fade as her eyes lingered on him. “Thanks for being here.”

Bennett’s gaze didn’t waver. “I told you I would be.”

Something passed between them, unspoken but tangible, woven tightly through everything they weren’t saying. She felt it settle in the air, in the way her skin prickled under his relaxed attention.

Laurel swallowed. “You staying tonight?”

His answer was immediate. “Yes.”

Her chest tightened. Not in fear. Not even surprise.

Just…awareness.

And maybe the anticipation of something that had been simmering for days. The tension stretched, heavy with heat, and something far more dangerous than fear.

He stepped forward, close enough to see the way her breath caught. Close enough to make her forget about tea and pies and unfinished apartments.

Because suddenly, the only thing that mattered was the look in Bennett’s eyes—and the promise of what came next.

Laurel blinked, her brain playing catch-up as Bennett’s presence tugged at every nerve ending she had. But before either of them could say anything else, a loud knock and the sound of the door opening halted their conversation.

“If I drink one more bottle of lukewarm water, I’m going to mutiny.” Matthew’s voice carried through the apartment.

“Fridge is fully stocked now,” Laurel called back, stepping away from the counter and the heat simmering between her and Bennett. “Help yourself.”

Last night, with Bennett shadowing, she’d made a much-needed grocery run.

Tyler appeared first, a little dusty from crawling around somewhere in the building. “This place is shaping up fast,” he said, snagging a cold bottle of iced tea. “Smells better than it did two days ago, too.”

Matthew followed with a wide grin, opening a root beer. “That’d be the furniture. Absorbs all the weird drywall smells and old-pipe vibes. Plus, your soap choices are top tier.”

Laurel chuckled. “I’m glad my lavender obsession is making an impact.”

“You kidding? Place smells like a spa with a vengeance,” Matthew said. Then his gaze flicked toward Bennett, who had yet to say a word. “Something wrong with your voice, Vaughn?” he asked with mock concern. “You’ve been suspiciously quiet.”

Bennett didn’t look over. “Just appreciating the peace before you two showed up.”

Laurel tried not to laugh, but a smile tugged at her lips.

“Careful,” Tyler said, twisting the cap off his drink. “If he’s quiet, it means he’s either plotting something or fighting the urge to say something snarky.”

“Snarky?” Laurel arched a brow, glancing at Bennett. “I thought this one only did brooding and broody-adjacent.”

That earned a rare, subtle smile from him. “You haven’t earned full snark privileges yet.”

“Working on it,” she said, her pulse still skittering from moments earlier.

Tyler leaned against the counter and glanced around. “I gotta say, Laurel, this place looks good. Brandi’s really outdone herself, but it also feels like someone actually lives here now.”

Laurel’s gaze drifted across the apartment to the soft throw blanket folded neatly over the arm of the couch, the mismatched mugs in the open shelf by the sink, and the small collection of books she'd lined up on the floating shelf near the window.

A mix of favorites—a tattered mystery novel with a cracked spine, a well-worn copy of Persuasion, Rylee’s gift, and a few newer finds she hadn’t even opened yet. The scent of vanilla from the candle she’d lit earlier still lingered faintly in the air.

It wasn’t perfect, and it definitely wasn’t finished yet, but it felt like hers.

“Thanks.” Her voice softened. “It’s starting to feel like home.”

It was true. Even with the lingering tension from last night’s incident, even with the shadow of someone trying to derail everything they were building, this place—her place—was starting to feel real.