Page 35 of Bennett (HC Heroes #15)

T hree days later, in that familiar late-morning lull, Laurel moved behind the diner counter, balancing a fresh pot of coffee in one hand and swiping her dish towel across the laminate with the other.

Her gaze flicked to the corner where Annie was supposed to be sitting, sipping her herbal tea and behaving like a model patient.

Instead, just forty-eight hours after her second wrist surgery, the darn woman was trying to refill the napkin dispensers with her non-dominant hand like she had something to prove.

“Aunt Annie,” Laurel warned, using her mom voice, the one she’d perfected over the past two weeks. “You are supposed to be resting.”

Annie froze mid-napkin stuff, then turned with exaggerated innocence. “I’m sitting while I do it.”

“You’re perching. And scheming. Which is basically exercising for you.”

Belinda snorted as she passed with a tray of clean glasses. “Told you she was going to try it. Give her ten more minutes and she’ll be back on the griddle flipping pancakes one-handed.”

“I would never,” Annie said with mock offense. “Not while the stitches are still fresh.”

“Laurel,” Pete called from the kitchen pass-through. “You want me to put her in a booth and duct tape her to the seat?”

“I’ll allow it,” Laurel said, pouring a fresh cup for Mr. Crawford at the counter, “only if we use the neon pink tape from the to-go drawer.”

“Classy,” Belinda said. “Very on brand.”

Annie huffed but dropped the napkin holder like it had personally offended her. “I’ve been cooped up for two days. You expect me to sit here and twiddle my thumbs while you all run around?” she asked, rising to her feet to face them.

“Yes,” Laurel said at the same time Belinda muttered, “Absolutely.”

Annie narrowed her eyes. “I’m going to remember this the next time one of you needs a favor.”

“Sure, you will.” Laurel walked around the counter and took her aunt gently by the elbow, steering her back toward the padded booth by the window. “Now sit. Sip your tea. And let Belinda and me do the hard stuff for once.”

“You mean like run this place without me?”

Laurel gave her a pointed look. “Your brother raised me to be capable. Don’t act surprised when I prove it.”

Annie grumbled under her breath but sat with a dramatic sigh. “Fine. But if the place burns down while I’m out of commission, I’m blaming you.”

“I can live with that,” Laurel said with a smile, then turned back toward the counter, shaking her head.

Her aunt might be down, but she was far from out and keeping her on light duty might be the toughest challenge yet.

The bell over the diner door jingled.

Rylee stepped inside, her dark ponytail swinging. “Hey, Laurel. Just picking up a to-go order for ESI and grabbing a tea for my brother, Josh. He has a second interview with the DA this morning.”

She’d met the man when the entire Bryson family stopped in for breakfast yesterday. He had the same dark hair as the others, his still cut military short. It suited him, showing off his gorgeous blue eyes.

Laurel grinned. “Best of luck to him! Give me two minutes. Pete’s boxing up your food now.”

“Thanks.” Rylee smiled. “But he won’t need luck. Josh won any race or contest he was ever in and succeeded in every position he occupied. This job is as good as his.”

“Huh. An over-achieving Bryson. Who would’ve thought?” Annie snickered. Then she raised her chin and turned her attention to Laurel. “So, your dad called to check on me this morning. Said you two talked about you staying here permanently and opening a bookstore in your uncle’s building.”

“You are?” Rylee perked up immediately, her expression brightening.

Laurel blinked and her heart jolted as she walked toward the booth. “He did? What did he say?”

Annie grinned. “That it was about damn time.”

She dropped onto the seat across from her aunt. “Really? I called last night, half expecting him to try talking me out of it, but he didn’t.”

She was still trying to wrap her head around it all.

“As well he shouldn’t.” Annie sipped her tea, looking far too pleased. “He said he was proud of you. That it was your turn now.”

Laurel's throat tightened. That one phrase— your turn now —settled deep into her chest and unlocked something warm and right.

She hadn’t expected it to feel this big. This real.

Rylee slid into the booth beside her, nudging her shoulder. “That’s huge, Laurel. I know how long you’ve danced around the idea. You finally saying it out loud makes it official.”

Laurel smiled, but it was shaky. “It’s not just the bookstore,” she admitted. “It’s…everything. I want to stay here.”

She also wanted to see where this thing with Bennett went.

Her decision to stay in Harland hadn’t just been about opening her own bookstore, though that part felt like a dream finally within reach.

No, the bigger truth, the one that clung to her every time she looked at him, was that she wanted to stay because of Bennett too.

Because walking away from this thing growing between them felt wrong.

Leaving town and trying to navigate some long-distance, weekend-only, maybe-it’ll-work-out relationship held no appeal.

Not when she could see day by day how being near him made her feel grounded. Seen.

Wanted.

And maybe it was too soon, too fast. Maybe she’d been knocked a little sideways by the danger, the intimacy, and the adrenaline of the past few weeks, but that didn’t make what was developing between them any less real.

She was falling for him.

And the best part? The scariest part?

She didn’t think she was falling alone.

He hadn’t said it, not in words, but in the way he touched her, watched her, protected her, trusted her.

..it was there. Even in his guilt the other night after the security alert he’d missed.

He’d been so mad at himself, so convinced he’d let her down even though it turned out to be nothing more than a roadrunner triggering the sensor on the perimeter.

They’d viewed the footage later that night, her sitting beside him on the couch, both watching the bird strut right across several other feeds like it owned the place.

But still, he hadn’t laughed.

Not right away.

Because that was the kind of man he was—hyper-aware, always calculating risk, especially when it came to her. He carried that sense of responsibility like it was stitched into his DNA.

And she cared about him more for it. Cared more than she was ready to admit out loud.

“You okay?” Annie asked, eyeing her curiously.

Laurel blinked back into focus and smiled faintly. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

Annie hummed in agreement. “You’ve got roots here. I can see it.”

“And the way Bennett looks at you?” Rylee added. “Let’s just say, it’s not exactly subtle.”

A flush rose to Laurel’s cheeks. “He’s…uh…more than I expected. And he’s been so supportive, especially when I started doubting if I could handle all of this.”

She didn’t have to explain what “this” was. Rylee and Annie knew. The building. The fear. The aftermath of being targeted. The heaviness of starting over.

“That’s because he cares about you,” Annie said. “He’s not used to letting his guard down. You’re teaching him how.”

The bell in the kitchen dinged, and both Laurel and Rylee stood.

“By the way,” she said, glancing at her friend as they walked to the counter, “I spoke to Jenna and her sister. After last week’s Zoom walk-through with Brandi, I sent them the lease.

My lawyer—still weird to say that—is handling the final paperwork. ”

“Mark Espinoza?” Rylee asked.

Laurel nodded. “He’s great. Everything checked out, for them and me.”

After her father had given her his blessing yesterday, she’d given her lawyer the greenlight to get things rolling.

Still, the decision felt a little surreal, like she’d accidentally wandered into someone else’s big life moment and was too polite to leave.

Mark had said it was time to stop waiting for a perfect sign and start trusting her gut.

Which was terrifying, because her gut also once told her gas station sushi was a good idea.

“In fact,” she said, glancing at the clock on the wall. “I’m meeting him in forty minutes to finalize it all.”

Pride was bright in Annie’s eyes as she smiled from the booth. “You’re doing it, kiddo.”

“Yeah,” Laurel said, her chest expanding. “I think I am.”

“So exciting.” Rylee grabbed her bag and tea. “Brandi and I will meet you at Winslow Crossing later to help you celebrate by looking at paint swatches. And I want updates on your bookstore name.”

Laurel laughed. “Noted. See you there.”

***

L ate that afternoon, Laurel parked behind Winslow Crossing and sat for a moment, taking it all in. The distant clang of construction and the occasional squawk of a seagull gliding overhead. The building rose in front of her, unfinished, imperfect, full of possibilities.

Amazing.

She gripped the steering wheel, her heart fluttering in that weird space between exhilaration and what-the-hell-was-she-doing.

Now, she had paperwork filed with the county, a tax ID number, and a lease agreement for a space that still smelled like drywall and ambition.

She’d signed documents declaring herself the owner of a business that didn’t technically exist yet—and was suddenly responsible for things like occupancy permits, vendor accounts, and figuring out how to not accidentally electrocute herself installing a fancy espresso machine.

She grabbed her keys, stepped out of the car, and headed for the back of the building.

The late sun painted the structure in long shadows, highlighting its clean lines.

A shared receiving area ran behind all four storefronts, with an elevator flanked by two stairwells.

One was original, timeworn and narrow, the other was new and wider, built to meet code.

Laurel passed both, her shoes tapping against the concrete as she approached the inside entrance to the store on the far right.

That spot had always been her favorite.