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 readYou 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?”
