Like Never Before by Melissa Tagg Page A

it back to the kitchen if you want. Reheat it or get you a new one. I know how you love your burgers.”
    See, this was what she loved about this town. You’re wrong, Owen. People know me here.
    Seth held open the door for her as she reentered the restaurant. “So what’s up with your whole staff being here tonight? You all planning a mutiny against Logan or something?”
    She stopped halfway to her table. “What?”
    â€œTrust me, if you guys are surprised about Logan being the new publisher, triple it, and that’s how surprised he is.”
    Her brain fumbled to connect his words. “Logan . . . Logan Walker is the new owner of the News ?”
    Seth flipped a towel over his shoulder. “You didn’t know?”

    Amelia really did live in a barn.
    Logan stared at the building set back from the road at the edge of town, where a residential neighborhood thinned out and gave way to sweeping fields. The Klassens lived in the last house on Second Street, and across the gravel drive that leaned into their yard, right next to a cascading willow tree, sat Amelia’s home. Moonlight painted a blueish tint over its red paint and glowing white trim.
    Logan cut the engine of his car and climbed out. He’d kind of thought Raegan was joking when she said Amelia lived in the barn on Lenny and Sunny Klassen’s property. Figured he’d get here and discover the older couple had turned their basementinto an apartment, like Dad had for Seth, or even that woodshop out back where Lenny worked.
    But the barn?
    An owl hoo- ed from the line of craggy trees, black in the dark and shivering in the wind behind the property. A yard light buzzed and flickered on as he approached the barn. Must be motion-sensored.
    Hopefully Amelia wouldn’t mind him showing up at this time of night—especially at her house. But when he’d gotten Seth’s text, letting him know he’d accidentally spilled the beans about Logan owning the paper, he’d figured he owed Amelia an explanation. And with it being Friday night, it’s not like he could find her in the office in the morning.
    He knocked, cold raking over his cheeks. Snow shaven from a drift that edged up to the barn swirled around his feet.
    A muffled voice sounded from inside. Did she say “come in”?
    He knocked again, and this time the door cracked open. He stomped the snow from his feet and then pushed the door the rest of the way open, stepped inside, and—
    Amelia’s squeal about stopped his heart.
    She stood in the center of what looked to be her living room, a towel slipping from her head and wet hair tumbling over her shoulders. Bare feet and legs whiter than the snow outside peeked out from underneath a pink robe.
    The door thumped closed behind him. “You . . . you said . . .” Words, why couldn’t he conjure any? “You said ‘come in.’”
    â€œI said ‘just a minute.’” She flapped her hands in exasperation, the belt on her robe loosening with the movement until she flung her arms around herself.
    Maybe he should just turn around and walk back out.
    Or at least stop staring.
    But it was like his feet had grown roots through her welcome mat. So he simply lifted one hand and covered his eyes.
    Only to hear Amelia burst out laughing. “What are you doing?”
    â€œBeing a gentleman.” And hopefully hiding the fact that his face had to be the color of her barn—er, house—right about now.
    â€œI’m wearing a robe. I’m not naked, Logan.”
    â€œPlease don’t say the word naked .”
    She only laughed harder. “Man, you are easy to embarrass. Imagine if I’d been wearing this last night when you hugged me.”
    A rumble of laughter escaped, surprising considering how much that hug had bothered him as he’d tried to sleep. How could Emma still—and so swiftly—walk back into his