Page 25 of Her Ohio Old Flame

He leaned against the counter, cradling the steaming mug as he watched her. Damn, she was beautiful.

“How are your mom and dad doing?” Zane asked.

Asha smiled faintly, but there was a glimmer of emotion in her eyes. “Mom is a champ. She’s working so hard.” She blinked rapidly, her voice hitching as she added, “I’m so proud of her.”

A soft shuffle of footsteps interrupted the moment, drawing both their gazes toward the doorway. Her father stood there, leaning his weight on the frame for support. His face was paler than usual, but his eyes still twinkled with their usual warmth.

“Speaking of champs,” Zane said, his lips twitching into a grin.

“Dad,” Asha said, already rising to pour him a cup of coffee. “You’re supposed to be resting.”

Her father chuckled as he settled into a chair at the table. “And you’re supposed to stop hovering. I swear, you’re worse than your mother when you get in one of these moods.”

Asha placed the coffee in front of him with a playful glare. “Someone has to make sure you don’t overdo it.”

He took a long sip and sighed contentedly. “Oh, I see. You’ve taken it upon yourself to keep the old man in line, huh?”

“It’s a full-time job,” Asha teased, her lips twitching into a genuine smile.

The three of them settled into a quiet rhythm, the hum of the ceiling fan overhead mingling with the soft clinks ofspoons against mugs. The scent of fresh coffee lingered in the air, evoking comfort against the backdrop of their unvoiced concerns. Zane leaned back in his chair, his gaze drifting to Asha as she fussed over her dad’s cup, stirring in an extra splash of cream.

Something was bothering her—he could feel it in the way her fingers tapped the edge of the table, the way her shoulders seemed to draw tighter with every passing moment. She looked everywhere but at him, and it left a knot in his chest that only grew heavier.

Her dad down set his cup with a decisive clink, his eyes twinkling. “You know what, Asha? You should take Zane for a walk. Lord knows I could use a break from all this mother-henning.”

“Dad!” she protested, her cheeks flushing.

Zane said, “I think that’s an excellent idea.” He stood before she could argue. “Come on, Asha. Let’s get some fresh air.”

Her father waved them off with a grin. “You’ll be doing me a favor.”

Zane held the door open for her, and they stepped out into the golden glow of the early evening. They strolled along the familiar paths surrounding her parents’ house, the air warm with the hum of cicadas and the faint scent of wildflowers. Her hand brushed his once, then again, but each time she pulled it back, as though afraid of what it might mean to hold on.

Zane’s frustration simmered. They had made love days ago, a connection that had felt raw and undeniable. Yet here she was, retreating again, her touch skittish and her silence thick with distance. He made fists, willing himself to remain patient, but it was impossible to ignore the ache building in his chest.

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, allowing his gaze to linger on the delicate curve of her jaw, the way her lips pressed together like she was holding something back. Whateverghost haunted her, it was stealing her away from him piece by piece, and he didn’t know how to stop it.

The path curved near Mrs. Collette’s tiny shed, the old wood casting a patch of shade across the ground. Without thinking, Zane tugged Asha off the trail, guiding her behind the shed. The sun-dappled shadows played across her face as she looked up at him, startled.

“What are you?—”

“Safeword still works,” he said, his voice low and steady.

Her eyes widened, her lips parting, but she didn’t pull away. Zane stepped closer, bracketing her hips with his hands as he pressed her lightly against the wall. He searched her eyes, giving her every chance to object.

When she didn’t, he lowered his head, brushing his lips against hers in a whisper of a touch. Her breath hitched, her fingers curling against his chest. And then he kissed her, deep and demanding, pouring every ounce of his frustration and longing into the press of their mouths. Asha slid her hands up to his shoulders, clinging to him as though she needed the anchor. That was fine—he wouldn’t let her drift away.

When they broke apart, their breaths mingled in the quiet space between them. Zane rested his forehead against hers, his words rough but tender. “You’re mine, Asha. No more running.”

Chapter Eleven

The kiss lingered in Zane’s mind long after they’d parted, a tether that pulled at him with every step back to the house. Asha had stayed rooted on the path, her fingertips brushing her lips as if trying to hold onto the moment. He’d wanted to stay, to coax her into talking, to unravel the thoughts swirling behind those soulful brown eyes, but the heat of the day and her father’s teasing had nudged them apart.

Inside, her dad had given him a knowing look over the rim of his coffee mug, one that made Zane’s ears burn despite himself. He’d distracted himself with small talk, letting Asha drift upstairs with an excuse about needing to check on something. She had been quieter on the walk back, her mood shifting like the clouds rolling in above them. It left a knot in his chest—a sense that something was pulling her away, even as she tried to draw closer.

That was why, when her father mentioned the yardwork still waiting, Zane jumped at the chance. He stepped outside, welcoming the familiar weight of the mower in his hands. The steady hum of the engine was grounding, a rhythm to match the thoughts tumbling through his head. It gave him time to think—or at least try to figure out what Asha was hiding and how he could get her to trust him enough to share it.

The lawnmower’s rhythmic churning blended with the late afternoon symphony of birdsong and cicadas. The grass was thick and overgrown in patches, but nothing he couldn’t handle. The walk with Asha had left his mind buzzing, her every glance and touch lingering in his thoughts like a melody stuck on repeat. But here, with his boots solid on the earth and the mower steady in his grip, he found a rhythm that quieted some of the noise.

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