Page 7 of Bennett (HC Heroes #15)

L aurel had just finished stacking plates onto a tray when her aunt’s tone shifted mid-conversation.

She didn’t mean to eavesdrop—okay, maybe a little—but Annie wasn’t exactly subtle when something irritated her.

“What do you mean, another one?” Annie’s voice carried over the soft clatter of dishes as she balanced the phone between her ear and shoulder. “Damn it, Carter.”

Laurel’s curiosity sharpened. Her aunt rarely sounded this rattled, which meant something was seriously wrong.

She moved closer, wiping off the counter as an excuse to linger. Annie listened to whatever Carter was saying, her fingers drumming impatiently on a laminated menu. Then she sighed, rubbing her temple with her good hand.

“All right. Thanks for letting me know.” A beat of silence. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll send someone.”

Laurel straightened at that. Send someone where?

Annie ended the call and exhaled sharply. “Well, hell.”

“That bad?” Laurel asked, wiping her hands on a dishrag.

Annie glanced up, frustration etched in her expression. “Someone wrecked more of the renovation site last night. Brandi’s gonna lose her mind when she sees it.”

Laurel frowned. “More? What do you mean, more?”

Her stomach twisted. This was the first she was hearing of it.

Her uncle had poured decades of blood, sweat, and tears into that business, the same way Aunt Annie had with the diner.

After he’d passed, her aunt had agonized over whether to sell the old furniture store or try to breathe new life into it.

The decision hadn’t been an easy one. Annie had spent over a year mulling it over before finally deciding that selling wasn’t an option.

Instead, she would transform the building into something that could benefit the community—a vision her husband had always believed in.

And now, someone was trying to destroy it.

Her chest squeezed at the thought.

“There have been little things, but this time there was more damage,” her aunt replied, her expression tight with frustration.

Laurel frowned. “What kind of damage?”

Annie sighed. “Carter didn’t say too much. Just that it’s bad enough Mac told him to call Gabe, and they’re waiting on him now.”

Now her gut twisted.

Not good if the sheriff was called in.

Laurel glanced toward the door, feeling a tug of urgency. “Since you’re the owner, you’ll probably need to be there.”

Annie shook her head, then pinned her with a look that made it clear she’d already made up her mind. “You go.”

She blinked. “Me?”

“Yes, you.” Annie nodded, her tone firm. “I don’t want to see Jim’s place vandalized. Not like this. And to be honest, I didn’t want to see the warehouse and showrooms torn apart and sectioned off until all the work was complete.”

Totally understandable. Her aunt had spent months planning the renovations with Brandi to transform the old furniture store into something new and useful. But actually seeing the place damaged by some unknown vandal? That would probably make her feel violated.

Laurel nodded. “Okay, but I can’t leave you here with just Belinda during the end of the breakfast rush and start of lunch.”

Annie’s shoulders sagged slightly before she straightened them. “I’ll call in Darla. She owes me a favor, and I’ll make sure she gets tipped out nicely for the trouble.”

“You sure?” She chewed her lower lip. “What if Darla has plans? That’ll leave you short-staffed.”

Annie snatched up the phone again. “Darla, honey, you busy?” Annie’s voice turned syrupy sweet, which meant Darla was about to get roped into a shift on her day off.

Laurel hid a smirk as her aunt worked her magic.

By the time Annie hung up, she was smugly victorious. “Darla’s on her way.”

She sighed, shaking her head. “You’re dangerous.”

Annie winked. “I know.” Her gaze sobered. “You go on. It’ll be fine. Besides, this is what I asked you here for, isn’t it?”

“Not exactly.” The main reason Laurel was here was to make sure her stubborn aunt actually followed her doctor’s orders after her surgery. She cocked her head. “You wanted me to help out at the diner because you’re short-staffed.”

Two weeks ago, Annie had let one of her servers go when the woman repeatedly failed to show up for shifts. This had left Annie running things with just one of her servers to hold down the fort during the morning.

“True,” her aunt said. “But now that these issues have started to crop up at your uncle’s building, I could really use your help monitoring the renovations too.”

It was rare to see Annie upset, but the distress dulling her gaze coupled with the fact she continued to think of the building next door as Uncle Jim’s, told Laurel her aunt was still in the grieving stage.

She hesitated. Her skill set was more about improvising and managing chaos than actual leadership. But if her aunt trusted her with her uncle’s building, then she needed to give it a shot.

“Okay,” she finally said. “Although I don’t know much about renovating a building.”

“Ah, piece of cake for you,” Annie said. “Your dad told me all about how you oversaw the revamping of the catering shop.”

She snorted. “We replaced two stoves and added an oven and bigger fridge.”

“And found room for another counter workspace, picking everything out and making sure it was all installed properly,” her aunt added, with a gleam in her eyes. “Don’t sell yourself so short, honey. You have a knack for running things. Even your dad can see it.”

Shock rippled through Laurel’s chest, paving the way for a wave of warmth. “He does?”

This was news to her. All she’d done was lend a hand wherever she saw something lacking. Even though catering wasn’t her passion like her parents, she wanted to make sure they had everything they needed at their fingertips.

“Yes, of course.” Annie grinned. “So, overseeing these renovations while you’re here will take a big load off my shoulders.”

Well, damn. When her aunt put it that way, how could Laurel refuse?

She exhaled. “All right. But if I come back and find you trying to do more than pour coffee, I’m dragging you to the doctor myself.”

Annie chuckled. “I’ll be good. Promise.” She lifted her phone. “I’ll call Brandi and give her your number and let her know to discuss things with you from now on.” Then her expression softened, a hint of worry slipping through her tough facade. “Just…let me know what you find, all right?”

“I will.” Laurel squeezed her aunt’s shoulder and reached for her purse.

“Oh, and take this with you.” Annie nodded toward the counter where a takeout bag and a large coffee sat ready and waiting.

“Mac ordered breakfast for Carter before he left. Said the guy stayed behind this morning to get a temporary security system installed at the site. Figured you could hand it to him.”

Laurel eyed the bag and coffee. “So, I’m playing delivery girl now, huh?”

“Think of it as a goodwill gesture,” her aunt said. “And maybe an apology for all the work this mess is causing him.”

“Fair enough.” Laurel grabbed the bag and coffee, hoping she was easing her aunt’s nerves.

But as she headed for the door, a sense of unease settled in her chest.

If the damage was bad enough for Carter to call in Gabe, then this wasn’t just some harmless prank.

It was a threat.

That thought stayed with her as she walked toward the construction site, trying not to overthink things until she saw the damage. The salty tang of Gulf air clung to the breeze, rustling her ponytail as she covered the short distance down the street from the diner.

Her nerves hummed with equal parts frustration and determination. She hadn’t been back inside the large, two-story building since she was a kid chasing dust motes and sneaking cookies while her uncle polished furniture with the kind of meticulous care she’d only ever seen on TV commercials.

She clutched the takeout bag in one hand and the coffee in the other, her fingers tightening around the bags handles.

She could feel the heat through the to-go cup, grounding her as she eyed the brick building.

Her mind flashed back to memories of running through the old showrooms, darting between couches, polished tables, and towering bookshelves, like they were obstacles in a maze.

On numerous occasions, she’d grabbed one of the books off those shelves and found a cozy spot in a corner to hunker down and read.

It hadn’t mattered that they were meant for décor, she’d found them all fascinating.

Winslow Fine Furnishings had been her uncle’s pride and joy. A place built on quality craftsmanship, reliable service, and a reputation for carrying the best-made furniture in the county.

Uncle Jim had built his business from the ground up, pouring his heart into every inch of the place. For years, people had come from all over just to browse the sprawling warehouse and admire the solid wood furniture he sold with the same pride as the craftsmen who’d created the pieces.

For Laurel, it had been a place of discovery and endless games of hide-and-seek. It had also fostered her love of books.

Now, it was a construction zone. And apparently, someone’s favorite target.

Rounding the corner to the back of the building, she spotted the guys huddled just outside the door.

Carter was hunched over something, his attention on a bundle of wires, while Matthew stood nearby, arms folded, his gaze fixed on the building.

Bennett was there, too, his stance stiff and his expression even stiffer.

“Food delivery!” she called out, striding toward them through the opening in the fence. “For the guy who’s been running himself ragged while his buddies enjoyed a leisurely breakfast.”

Carter’s head whipped around, and his eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. “You beautiful, glorious woman. Gimme. You have no idea how much this helps my mood.”