I wondered if Logan would give me a tour. The thought had me way too giddy.

Inside, the design was as breathtaking to behold as the exterior’s. Massive columns and domed ceilings highlighted the mural on the front wall: an image of the building during its construction over a hundred years prior.

“Cassie?”

I turned to find Mrs. Welsh, my high-school librarian and the widow of the previous owner, walking out from behind the front desk. I’d only seen her in occasional passing over the last few years.

“Mrs. Welsh, hi! How are you?” I asked, surprised to see her there. I figured she’d retired for good after her husband’s death and selling the paper.

“I’m doing great, as always,” she said, though the concern etched over her brow told me she wasn’t immune to the town gossip. “How are you, dear?”

“Good, as always.” I smiled brightly. She didn’t need to worry about me.

She sighed thoughtfully. “Still the spitting image of your mother at your age. A hellion, she was.”

I laughed. Every time I saw her, she told me the same thing. And she wasn’t the only one—I’d heard it from others, but never once could I picture it. The mother I knew was the epiphany of moral standards.

“I didn’t know you were working here.”

“I know. Everyone thinks I need to retire, but to do what—sit in my house till death comes a-calling? No thank you.” She looked around as if remembering another time. “This was his home, his life. It’s the one place I still feel connected to him. I’m not leaving.”

That was the ultimate dream for me: a powerful love that consumed you, even when you were separated by death.

“I’d do the same thing.”

“Yes, well, maybe one day you will. I’ve heard through the town cesspool that you’ve nabbed the affections of our mysterious new owner.”

“Mysterious?” My amusement couldn’t be contained.

“Yes, all the young ladies here are stepping over themselves for a chance at his attention, but he’s all business the entire day.”

I doubted that. My joy vanished. There were probably a few employees he’d dabbled with before me.

“I’m glad he kept you on board,” I said, swallowing down the acidic burn of jealousy.

“He had no choice. I gave this paper to him because he had a dream for it—a passion for what needed to be done to get it rolling again—and he agreed to keep me on until my death, no matter how old or senile I became.”

I grinned, laughing softly. “Sounds like you.” And him.

“He said he’d never let me go, even if I changed my mind, and I said, ‘Sold!’”

“He’s persistent, so you better watch out.”

“I’m counting on it.” She looked pleased.

“It was good to see you again.” I gave her a quick hug.

“You too. Don’t be a stranger around here.”

I waved goodbye and made my way further through the building. At desk after desk sat employees hard at work. I gave a few head-nod greetings, and a wave to an old friend from high school who was typing away, her baby bump pressed to her desk. She’d married her high-school boyfriend, and every time I saw them together they still seemed just as into each other as they were back then.

Smiling to myself, I continued until I reached the door at the end bearing a gold name plate inscribed with ‘Logan West’.

“Can I help you?” the woman who sat at a desk directly across from his door asked. She was in her late thirties, with a PTA-mom vibe—exactly what I wanted to see in his secretary.

“Yes, I’m here to see Lo—uh, Mr. West.” I smoothed my hand down over my coat and shuffled the stack of papers in my hands.

“Do you have an appointment?”

Did I need one? “No, but…”

“One minute.” She lifted the receiver to her ear, then quickly set it back down. “His line’s busy. Have a seat.”

I nodded, suddenly uncomfortable. What if I was interrupting his day?

I’d placed the stack of flyers on my lap and was wondering if I should come back later when the door to his office opened. Mackenzie, the bitch who’d screwed Mark and flirted with Logan on more than one occasion, moseyed out.

What the hell is she doing here? And in his office!?

The poor flyers were rolled tightly in my grasp as rage simmered just below my surface. I fought the urge to jump up, grab her cheap extensions, and pound her face against the wall.

I blinked, holding my composure, and bit the inside of my cheek—hard. I hissed from the pain it triggered.

Mackenzie’s gaze shot my way, and an instant fake grin appeared across her mouth.

“Cassie, hi! I haven’t seen you in forever. How are you?” Her face screwed up and her voice lowered. “I heard about your streak of bad luck lately. Sucks.”

I would’ve bitten my cheek again if it wasn’t still throbbing, so instead, I stood up.

“I’m doing just fine. And how about you? Oh, wait, I don’t care,” I sneered.

She brushed off my rudeness, her smile unwavering. “Well, I’m perfect.” She glanced back at Logan’s door. “And so is he…now.” She adjusted her shirt, as though anything she did would hide the obvious fact that she was trying to use her body in whatever she was scheming.

Keep my hands to myself. Hands to myself, hands to myself.

The mantra bounced around my head, along with so many other things I’d rather say or do. But not there—not at Logan’s office. I wouldn’t embarrass him. So, ever the classy one between us, I straightened my posture gracefully and stepped close to her.

“Always a pleasure,” I hissed, shoving my shoulder into hers as I strolled to Logan’s door and pushed it open.

“Miss!” the secretary called out, but I was in no mood. She should’ve been happy I was only barging into his office and not cat fighting in front of her desk. I shut the door slowly the instant I was inside, not giving Mackenzie the satisfaction of seeing me flustered.

Logan looked up from behind his desk, phone to his ear and confusion obvious.

“Fine, yes…listen, I have to call you back. Something important just walked in.” He hung up a second later, his eyes never leaving mine. “Cassandra, sweetheart, how did you get here?”

“Jax.” I strode toward his desk, where he regarded me carefully. He was right to do so—he had some questions to answer.

I set the flyers upside down on one of the chairs in front of his desk, then stepped around to him. He stood.

“How is your day going?” I asked, running my fingers over his tie.

“Much better now.” His lips curled up.

“Yeah?” I balanced on the balls of my feet and kissed his neck. He smelled like my Logan—not a hint of Mackenzie on him.

What is wrong with me? He wouldn’t. I knew deep in my soul that he would never hurt me, but still, I needed to show him that I was every bit a woman as any other that threw herself at him. I’d keep him overly satisfied to prevent him from even thinking about another.

“How are you feeling? Jax didn’t give you a hard time, did he?” He cupped my cheeks, and I leaned into the gesture.