Page 88 of Bennett

Laurel smiled. “Right. And apparently, a legal file to build.”

“I’ll help with that, too,” Rylee said. “I’ve got templates for everything, including lease agreements and tenant intake forms. I’ll email them to you tonight.”

Laurel’s heart lifted again. “You’re the best.”

“Doesn’t Bennett hold that title?” Rylee grinned. “No worries. I’m definitely top five.”

Brandi snorted. “He’s handsome, sure. But can he hang drapes and organize tax folders at the same time?”

“Pretty sure he could intimidate the drapes into hanging themselves,” Laurel deadpanned.

The three of them burst into laughter, the sound echoing warmly through the room.

For the first time in days, Laurel felt like she was standing on solid ground and not reacting to chaos. She was shaping something real.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out to find a text from Bennett.

“Dinner plans? I’m thinking tacos and you in my arms. Thoughts?”

Oh, she had thoughts, all right. Thoughts of his magnificent body with hard muscles and ridges and a sexy birthmark on his well-formed butt. Heat funneled into her cheeks, but she smiled, uncaring if the girls noticed.

Rylee did. “That from the broody Delta?”

Laurel held up the screen. “Tacos and affection.”

“Smart man,” Brandi said approvingly.

Laurel bit her lip, already texting back a reply.

“I’m in. But I get the first taco and at least half the blanket.”

As the women headed toward the kitchen area to review tomorrow’s install schedule for the rest of the building, the sunlight poured in a little warmer.

Winslow Crossing wasn’t just becoming real.

It was becoming hers.

A few hours later, as they wrapped up the building walkthrough, and Brandi and her team packed up for the day, Laurel took a moment to breathe. The space was finally beginning to feel finished. Not just a temporary stop or a project she was helping with, but a life.

A foundation.

She was back home, but the apartment had settled into a hush that wasn’t quite peace.

Rylee was still there, lingering near the front window, her gaze flicking out toward the street.

Laurel dried her hands on a dish towel, then leaned against the counter. “You sure you’re not waiting on a second round of baked goods?”

Rylee turned and smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Just making sure the building clears out clean.” She glanced at her phone, then tucked it into her jacket. “Carter texted me, checking to see if I was still here while Bennett was out.”

The words landed softly, without any judgment, but Laurel felt the shift in the air anyway. Her spine straightened.

“Oh,” she said after a beat. “Is anything wrong?”

“One never knows,” Rylee said, gentle but firm. “But regardless, you’re not alone in this. None of us want you to feel like you have to look over your shoulder without back-up.”

Laurel crossed her arms, her fingers curling tight against her sleeves. “ShouldI be looking over my shoulder?”

Rylee didn’t answer right away. Her silence said enough.