Page 15 of Bennett (HC Heroes #15)

T he spring air in Harland was thick with dew and that salty tang Laurel hadn’t realized she missed until this morning. The sun hadn’t fully crested the rooftops yet, but the early light shimmered off the sidewalk as she made her way toward the back entrance of Annie’s Diner.

Her bag bumped against her hip, and the scent of blooming jasmine mixed with the distant ocean breeze stirred something warm and nostalgic in her chest.

It should’ve been a peaceful morning. But her thoughts drifted—again—to the man who’d walked her to the sidewalk barely five minutes ago.

The tall, sexy, overly capable man was about as subtle as a brick wall when it came to protectiveness.

She hadn’t invited him to hover. Hadn’t asked him to camp out next door. And yet, somehow, it didn’t annoy her as much as it probably should have. Not that she’d ever tell him that.

As she reached the back corner of the diner, she paused, turned slightly, and lifted two fingers in a lazy salute toward the building across the lot—toward him, even if she wasn’t sure he could see her.

“Watchdog status: still alive,” she muttered under her breath. “Try not to worry too hard, Vaughn.”

When she turned back and took two more steps toward the back door, she caught the scent.

Smoke.

Laurel sniffed the air again. Yeah, definitely smoke. It was faint but distinct. It wasn’t fresh, but it was strong enough to make her stomach twist. Her eyes shifted to the dumpster.

Heart thudding a little harder, she edged over and cautiously lifted the lid.

Inside, the usual trash bags were shoved to one side, revealing a blackened pile of scorched fabric and melted plastic. It looked like someone had lit something small—maybe a towel, some papers, maybe both—and let it burn just long enough to leave a mess before it fizzled out.

Could’ve been some bored teenager playing pyro. Or it could’ve been a message.

Her throat was suddenly dry.

Was it a message? And was it meant for Aunt Annie or her?

She let the lid fall shut with a hollow clang and quickly unlocked the back door, bolting it behind her as she stepped inside.

The diner was dark and quiet, the overhead lights still off and the silence too heavy.

Normally, she found comfort in opening the diner.

The solitude before the buzz of the breakfast rush was nice, but today?

Today, it felt like walking into a held breath.

She flipped on the lights and got the coffee brewing in both the diner and the kitchen before she headed for the breakroom. Might as well make coffee in there too, while she waited for Belinda to arrive.

The moment she stepped inside, she froze.

There was a piece of paper taped to the side of the fridge. Just a plain white sheet with a short message printed out in thick black font.

“It’s never too late to walk away. Some things aren’t worth the risk.”

She stared at it for a long moment, heart drumming against her ribs.

It wasn’t signed. Not dated. Just…left there. Bold, deliberate, and slightly crooked, like whoever had taped it up didn’t care how neat it looked.

It hadn’t been there yesterday.

Laurel swallowed hard. The breakroom was usually a safe space filled with leftover pie slices, worn-out mugs, and faded family photos. Not cryptic notes with stalker vibes.

Maybe it was nothing. Maybe someone from one of the other shifts had put it there as a motivation quote.

Yeah. And maybe hand sanitizer made a good weapon.

She pulled out her phone, snapped a quick photo of the note, then exited the room with nerves prickling her shoulders.

A minute after she finished unlocking the front and flipping the “Closed” sign to “Open,” the bell over the door jingled.

It was early—too early for regular customers. Which made the smile on Duke Carver’s face all the more unsettling.

“Laurel,” he said, warm and polite as ever. “Didn’t expect to see you opening up. Thought Annie still had you wrangled into kitchen duty.”

She forced a smile. “We rotate. Keeps me humble.”

And the guy wasn’t all that observant. He’d seen her waiting tables just yesterday.

Duke chuckled and leaned one arm on the counter, glancing around the empty dining room. “Smells good in here already. I’d like a coffee to go.”

She nodded. “Coming right up.”

“Place always had charm,” he said. “Bet it’ll carry through next door. It’s really starting to shape up.”

Her stomach twisted again, but she kept her voice light as she poured coffee into a to-go cup. “We’re hoping to have everything up and running before the fall. Some spaces sooner than others.”

“Good for you,” he said, then added casually, “Hope it’s worth all the trouble.”

There it was.

Something about the way he said it—not quite sarcastic, not quite sincere—sent a chill right down her spine. But before she could respond, the front door opened again and two more regulars stepped inside, giving her the excuse she needed to break away from the conversation.

Duke slapped a large bill on the counter, gave her a wink and tipped an imaginary hat before heading out.

She exhaled.

That was odd. Or was she just seeing things that weren’t there?

As the door closed behind Duke, the familiar click of heels signaled Belinda’s arrival through the back, already tying on her apron with practiced ease.

How the woman managed an eight-hour shift in heels was beyond Laurel. A good supportive pair of sneakers were her go-to shoes, otherwise she’d be wrestling leg cramps all night.

No thanks. She had enough nighttime issues as it was.

“Morning,” Belinda chirped, giving Laurel a quick once-over. “You look like someone stepped on your last nerve.”

“Close enough,” Laurel muttered, grabbing two menus. “Arthur and Nelson just came in and sat in your section. Want me to get them started with coffee so you can settle in?”

Belinda shook her head and smiled. “No, thanks, sugar. I’ve got it.”

Good.

She headed into the kitchen in time to find the cook wiping his hands on a dish towel and yawning like he hadn’t slept in a week.

“Morning, Laurel,” he grumbled as Belinda joined them, shoving an order on the rack.

Laurel scratched her temple. “Hey, either of you notice a note taped to the fridge in the breakroom?”

Belinda glanced over, brow furrowed. “What kind of note?”

“One printed in thick, black font,” she replied. “Says something about walking away before it’s too late.” She tried to sound casual, but the tension in her voice must’ve given her away.

Pete frowned. “That supposed to be some kind of joke?”

“If it is, it’s not very funny,” Belinda replied.

Laurel sighed. “So, neither of you put it there.”

“Nope,” Pete echoed Belinda. “And I worked an extra shift last night, and it wasn’t there.”

Laurel’s unease deepened. She nodded a thanks and ducked back into the breakroom.

Before she could second guess herself, she opened a text thread to Bennett and typed:

Found this taped up in the breakroom this morning. Also, something burned in the dumpster. Figured you’d want to know.

She attached the photo and hit send. No name. No “Hello.” No pleasantries.

Just facts.

Because this? This wasn’t just annoying vandalism anymore.

It was a threat.

She stood in the breakroom, one hand wrapped around her coffee mug she’d just filled while the other hovered over her phone.

The message had been sent a full thirty seconds ago.

Not that she was counting.

The screen lit up with a new text, and she tapped it open, bracing herself.

Is Annie okay? Anyone else see it?

Laurel exhaled, tension she hadn’t realized she was holding loosening just slightly. Of course, that would be his first question.

She typed back:

Pete and Belinda are here. Annie’s still at home. I haven’t told her yet. Was about to call.

She didn’t wait for his reply. Instead, she pulled up her aunt’s number and hit dial.

Annie answered on the second ring, her voice chipper but slightly groggy. “Morning, sweetheart. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just…wanted to check in. Make sure you’re feeling all right,” Laurel said, trying to keep her tone light. “Any pain or swelling?”

“Just the usual stiffness,” Annie replied. “The ice packs are helping. See? I can follow the doctor’s orders like I promised.”

“Good,” Laurel said. “Don’t make me send Pete over there to enforce them.”

Annie laughed. “Oh, Lord, I’d rather deal with the sheriff.”

Laurel smiled at the sound, but her fingers tightened around the phone. “You didn’t happen to stop by the diner late last night, did you?”

“Nope. Haven’t left the house since yesterday afternoon. Why?”

“Just wondering,” Laurel lied, gently. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Everything all right?” Annie asked, instantly sharper.

“Everything’s fine,” Laurel said quickly, hating the sudden worry she heard in her aunt’s voice.

“You sure?” Annie didn’t sound convinced.

She nodded as if her aunt could see her. “Yes. Of course. Just a little tired myself.”

“Ah,” her aunt said with a note of humor in her tone. “Late night with your handsome Bennett?”

“No,” she blurted a little louder than necessary. “And he’s not my anything.”

Aunt Annie’s chuckle filled the phone. “But you want him to be.”

“What? I do not,” she replied much too quickly, because it made her aunt chuckle longer.

“Sure. Sure, sweetheart. You trying to convince me or yourself?” Annie asked, but she let it go. “Call if you need anything.”

“I will. Promise.”

She hung up, slipped her phone into her pocket, and after taking an extra few seconds to get her heart rate under control, Laurel headed for the front of the diner, doing her best to remove the thought her aunt planted out of her head.

Her Bennett…

A laugh bubbled up her throat. The guy was too growly to be anyone’s anything.

So why did the memory of him pressing her against the wall with blatant hunger in his eyes flash through her mind?

Because she was an idiot.