Page 36 of Bennett (HC Heroes #15)

As a little girl, she’d curl up near the front window with a stack of books while Uncle Jim worked. It had been the quietest corner, a tucked-away sanctuary of stories and sunlight. Even now, stepping inside gave her the oddest sense of homecoming.

She expected silence.

What she got was the faint sound of voices and laughter.

Rounding the corner into the common area of her new shop, she blinked in surprise.

Brandi stood beside a folding table with a bouquet of sunflowers wrapped in brown paper and twine.

Rylee was cracking open a bottle of bubbly with a gleam in her eye.

Matthew held a pack of plastic cups. And Bennett—tall, solid, infuriatingly appealing—leaned against the freshly primed wall like he’d been there all along.

“Surprise!” Brandi grinned, offering the flowers. “For the new shop owner with excellent taste in real estate.”

Laurel took the bouquet slowly, caught off guard. “What is this?”

“A mini celebration,” Rylee said as she poured. “Because signing your name on that lease deserves more than a quiet moment in your car.”

Matthew handed over a cup, and Bennett stepped forward, his voice quiet but steady. “To new beginnings.”

Laurel’s gaze swept the space. Unfinished walls, dusty floors, and the ghosts of childhood memories tucked in every corner sent warmth swirling through her chest.

She smiled and raised her cup. “To dreams that don’t go away. Even when you try to ignore them.”

They clinked their plastic cups together, the bubbly slightly warm and a little flat, but perfect all the same.

Brandi spun in a slow circle, taking in the open space. “I can already picture cozy chairs, shelves everywhere, and a menu board with cheeky drink names. Let me know if you want me to help you with any of it.”

Still smiling, Laurel nodded.

“Definitely needs a reading nook,” Rylee added, already eyeing the corner by the front window. “And plants. You’re legally required to have plants in a place like this.”

Matthew chuckled. “I volunteer to taste-test all coffee before it’s sold to the public.”

Laurel laughed. “I’ll be sure to put that in your contract.”

Bennett’s gaze moved thoughtfully over the space before flicking back to her. “It suits you,” he said softly.

“Thanks.” The longer she held his warm gaze, the more everything inside her softened.

“Okay then, Laurel,” Brandi said, gaining her attention. “Do you have a name in mind for this place?”

Laurel froze mid-sip. “Ugh. That.”

Rylee raised a brow. “You don’t have one yet?”

“Technically? No.” She shrugged. “I signed everything as me. The name’s still up for debate.”

“Perfect,” Brandi said, grabbing a pen from behind her ear like she meant business. “We’ve got paint swatches we can write on, champagne, and a half hour to brainstorm brilliance.”

As the others moved toward the folding table to start tossing out wildly impractical suggestions—Bards & Brews was already in the mix—Laurel hung back for a moment, letting their voices fade into the background.

Bennett stood near a wall, cup gone and his arms crossed loosely over his chest, watching her in that quiet, unreadable way that made her want to fidget.

“You really think it suits me?” she asked, setting her empty cup down before moving closer to him.

His mouth quirked. “I do.”

She glanced around the room, taking in the dusty floor, the scuffed walls, the beams of late afternoon light angling through the front windows. “It’s a lot rougher than I remembered.”

“So were you,” he said, shrugging. “Didn’t stop you from turning into something solid.”

Laurel blinked. Heat curled low in her chest, part embarrassment, part something else entirely.

“Thanks,” she said, not quite able to look at him.

“Don’t thank me yet,” he added, pushing off the wall. “I hear naming a bookstore is serious business.”

Laurel glanced at him. “Yeah, well. No pressure. It’s only the thing people will Google when they can’t remember what street I’m on.”

His mouth curved, the barest hint of a smile. “I’m sure you’ll pick something good. Something…you.”

“That’s the problem,” she said, half-laughing. “I’m not even sure what me is right now. Book nerd with big dreams and a mostly moved in apartment above a construction zone?”

At some point, she was going to have to return to Austin to pack up her things and get her townhouse on the market, although Aaron had already expressed interest.

Bennett regarded her for a long moment. “Sounds like someone finally stopped waiting for perfect.”

Laurel's breath hitched just a little, not because of the words, but because of the way he said them. Like he knew what it cost her to take the leap.

She held his gaze. “You always this encouraging, or is this just a champagne and drywall mood swing?”

“Maybe I just like seeing you take up space,” he said, voice low and deliberate. “You fit here.”

That one landed somewhere between her ribs, sending a flutter through her chest.

Before she could respond, Brandi called out, “Hey! ‘The Dusty Chapter’ or ‘Plot Devices’. Too weird or just weird enough?”

Bennett stepped back, his voice barely audible now. “Don’t let them name it something you’ll hate.”

“I won’t,” she murmured. “But it’s kinda nice to be surrounded by people who believe I can actually pull it off.”

He reached over and lightly brushed her cheek with his thumb. “You already are.”

Laurel blinked, her pulse leaping at his public show of affection. Before she could say anything else, he stepped back, giving her space. Giving her time.

The incredible man always knew the right thing to say or do.

“Okay,” she said, making her way back to the others. “What are the leading contenders so far?”

Rylee looked up from where she and Brandi were scribbling names. “Let’s see…‘The Dusty Chapter,’ ‘Caffeinated Chapters,’ and Brandi’s personal favorite, ‘Espresso Yourself.’”

Matthew groaned into his cup. “That one should be illegal.”

“I stand by it,” Brandi said, grinning. “It has vibe.”

Laurel laughed, truly grateful to have met these people. “What about something simpler?”

Rylee tilted her head. “Yeah, maybe a play on your name? Like Laurel’s Library?”

“Too on-the-nose,” she said, wrinkling her nose.

Brandi’s brow furrowed. “The Laurel Leaf. That’s kind of elegant.”

“The Reading Leaf?” Rylee tried.

“Under the Laurel Tree,” Matthew offered, then immediately frowned. “No, that sounds like a murder mystery.”

Laurel smiled, warm and amused, but none of the names landed quite right. They were good. Clever. But they weren’t her .

She wandered a few steps toward the front corner of the shop—the one she’d claimed as a kid. Her favorite corner. Always had been. The place she’d filled with paperbacks and daydreams before she even knew what owning a store meant.

The others kept talking behind her, their voices softening under the weight of her thoughts. She planned to sell coffee and tea and a few cold drinks, but mostly books here, so she needed a name befitting it all.

And then it hit her. Of course. It was so simple.

“Book & Brew Corner,” she said, trying it out, and goosebumps immediately spread through her body.

Silence followed, brief but full.

Brandi was the first to react, her eyes lighting up. “Oh, that’s good.”

Rylee grinned. “That’s really good.”

Matthew gave a nod of approval. “Ten out of ten. Would buy overpriced espresso there.”

Bennett’s gaze met hers from across the room. He didn’t smile, not exactly, but something shifted behind his eyes. “Yeah,” he said. “That’s the one.”

Laurel felt it settle in her chest like it had always belonged there. Like she belonged there.

“Book & Brew Corner,” she repeated, and this time, she smiled. It would no doubt get shortened to Book & Brew when talked about, but the Corner made it special to her. “Yeah. That’s it.”

While Brandi debated the merits of pale sage versus warm taupe for the reading nook wall, and Rylee argued that any self-respecting book café needed at least one obnoxiously oversized velvet chair, Laurel slipped her phone from her pocket and called to check on her aunt and to tell her the name she’d settled on for the shop.

“Perfect,” Annie said. “Named after your corner.”

Her heart rocked. “Yes, exactly. The one by the window where I used to sit.”

Her aunt sniffled. “I always knew you’d find your way back there.”

She blinked fast. “Thanks for letting me come back.”

“I never let you go,” Annie said, and then cleared her throat like she didn’t want to get sappy. “Now go tell those friends of yours to save me the first cup of coffee.”

Laurel laughed. “Yes, ma’am.”

She ended the call and turned back toward the others, who were now discussing whether books should be organized by genre or vibe.

Bennett moved closer, his voice low, just for her. “Told you you’d choose something good.”

“Yes, you did.” She smiled, happier than she’d been in a long time.

Laurel lingered near the doorway, gaze drifting to the golden wash of light stretching across the sidewalk out front.

She glanced back at Bennett. “Mind stepping out with me for a sec?”

He didn’t ask why, just followed her out into the warm, late-day quiet.

They stood together on the sidewalk, looking up at the building—her building.

And now, her storefront. The carved stone arch above the shop’s entrance caught the sun, and for the first time, she could really picture it—the painted sign, the display window filled with new releases and old favorites, maybe a welcome mat that read You Belong Here .

She folded her arms and smiled softly. “Looks different now.”

Bennett glanced sideways. “Because it’s yours?”

She nodded. “Yeah. And not just in the legal-papers-and-permits way. I feel it now. Like I did when I was a kid sitting in that window. But this time, I don’t have to leave.”

A beat of quiet passed between them. A warm breeze tugged at her hair. The moment was still, full.

Then Bennett’s posture shifted.

It was subtle, just a slight turn of his head, a narrowing of his eyes as he scanned across the street.

Laurel caught it. “What is it?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just kept looking. Not alarmed, not tense, but…watching.

“I don’t know,” he said quietly. “Might be nothing.”

She followed his gaze. There was nothing out of place, just a parked truck down the block, an elderly couple walking their dog, someone locking up the beauty shop.

But still.

Laurel shivered, just a little. “You’ve got that look again.”

“What look?”

“The one that makes me wonder if I should start sleeping with a frying pan under my pillow.”

That earned the ghost of a smile. “Good to know. I'll stick to ducking and weaving, then.”

“I have a rolling pin too,” she offered.

He didn’t laugh, just gave one last sweep of the street with his eyes before turning back to her. “Let’s head back in. Just in case.”

They moved toward the door, but Laurel cast one more glance over her shoulder.

Nothing.

The street looked normal, quiet, sun-washed, familiar. But it didn’t feel the same. Something about the air had shifted. Like someone had pulled the scene tight at the edges, just enough to make it buzz.

She told herself it was in her head. That she was just spooked because Bennett had tensed. But the thing about instincts? They didn’t always ask for logic.

She cleared her throat. “You really didn’t see anything?”

“No,” Bennett said, holding the door for her. “But I’ve learned to listen when something feels off.”

“So, we’re going with vague unease as our guiding principle now?”

“If you’d prefer paranoia, I can do that too.”

With a shake of her head, she smirked and stepped past him into her shop.

Inside, the warm murmur of voices returned like a welcome blanket. Brandi was mapping out her layout ideas in painter’s tape. Matthew had somehow convinced Rylee that the espresso bar needed a disco light. Everything was safe. Normal.

But as Laurel glanced out the window again and caught her own reflection staring back at her, wide-eyed and still, she noticed something beyond that.

Outside, down the block...the truck was gone.

She didn’t say anything. Not yet. Vehicles moved all the time.

But the shimmer of that perfect afternoon had dulled just a little. And beneath all the excitement, a quiet thread of dread began to weave itself through her chest.