Page 29 of Her Ohio Old Flame

They sat like that for a long while, the world outside the room fading into nothingness. The only sounds were the faint hum of the ceiling fan and the rhythm of their breathing, slowly falling into sync.

Zane tilted his head so he could press a soft kiss to her temple. “You don’t have to carry everything on your own, Asha. Not anymore.”

She tightened her fingers against his shirt, and he had to strain to hear her whispered, “I don’t know how to let go.”

He rested his chin atop her head, his heart swelling with a fierce protectiveness. “One step at a time, sweetheart. We’ll figure it out together.”

Her reply was a soft hum, almost inaudible, but it was enough.

Chapter Thirteen

After the spanking, they’d sat down to lunch with her dad. The tension from earlier hung faintly in the air, but no one brought it up. Asha shifted awkwardly in her seat, her butt still smarting, while Zane and her father carried the conversation with ease.

They talked about the porch repairs, the summer storms, and an old neighbor who’d moved away. Asha listened quietly, darting her gaze between the two men. When her dad glanced her way, she swallowed hard and mumbled an apology for being rude earlier.

Her dad’s lips quirked in a small smile. “We all lose our tempers, sweetheart. It’s what you do after that matters.”

Zane caught her gaze then, his eyes warm but unreadable, and something settled in her chest.

The moment was interrupted when Zane’s phone buzzed on the table. He picked it up, his expression shifting as he read the name on the screen. “It’s Lou,” he said, rising abruptly. His chair scraped against the worn linoleum. “I’ve got to take this.”

Her dad waved him off with a chuckle. “Go on. This old man can hold down the fort.”

Zane leaned down, brushing his lips on Asha’s cheek in a way that made her shiver. “I’ll be back,” he murmured.

For a few moments, she sat statue still before her mind kicked into gear. She rose from the table and cleaned away the remainders of their meal, before telling her dad she was going out for groceries.

Deciding she could use the fresh air to clear her mind, Asha walked the two-mile distance to Main Street.

The small grocery store at the edge of Peaceful doubled as the post office and bookstore, an eclectic combination that somehow worked in this tiny town. A weathered sign above the door proclaimed it Harper’s General Store, a name that had remained unchanged despite three generations of Colette ownership. The bell above the door jingled pleasantly as Asha stepped inside, its cheerful chime welcoming her into the cozy space.

The air was warm, a mingling of scents that felt uniquely Peaceful—ripe apples stacked in crates near the entrance, the faint musk of aging paperbacks, and a hint of freshly brewed coffee wafting from the small stand tucked beside the counter. Mrs. Colette, the town’s ever-busy postmistress, stood behind the counter chatting with a customer while occasionally sneaking pieces of ham to her golden retriever, who lounged contentedly at her feet.

Asha grabbed a basket from the stack near the door and moved into the narrow aisles, her list in hand. Milk, eggs, bread, soap… the essentials. The neatly written items kept her focused, though she let her attention linger briefly on the shelves filled with romance novels. Their colorful spines practically begged to be picked up, and for a moment, she toyed with the idea of indulging herself. But the memory of her neglected TBR pile on her eReader pulled her back, and she moved on.

She reached for a loaf of bread when the low, resonant hum of a familiar voice caught her off guard.

“Thank you, Mrs. Colette. You always take such good care of me.”

The warmth in the voice might have fooled anyone else, but to Asha, it carried a chill. Her heart stuttered, and her fingers froze on the loaf of sourdough. Like an arthritic ninety-year-old, she turned her head toward the counter and froze as her lizard brain started to fire warnings at her.

Tall and polished, Tate stood with a posture that exuded practiced ease. His salt-and-pepper hair was neatly combed, his clothes immaculate, and his smile the picture of sincerity. Even from this distance, his deep, resonant voice carried an undercurrent of authority and charm, the kind that made people instinctively trust him. She knew better.

Her chest tightened, and the air felt too thick to breath. Asha dropped her gaze and darted down the nearest aisle, her basket bumping against the shelves in her haste. Her breath came in shallow bursts as she moved deeper into the store, the canned goods and jars of preserves offering a fragile sense of cover.

“Asha?”

Gina Quinn-Hardin’s familiar voice pulled her from her thoughts. Asha blinked, her heart still pounding, and found the wilderness guide standing a few feet away, a bag of flour in one hand and a curious look in her sharp green eyes.

Gina always seemed to radiate energy and confidence. She ran the lodge and wilderness tours with her husbands, Mark and Stan, managing everything from grueling hikes to charming guests over breakfast. She was dressed for work in cargo pants and a simple T-shirt, her no-nonsense style matched by her military background and her easy smile.

“Oh. Hi.” Asha forced her voice to stay steady.

“Are you okay?” Gina cocked her head. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Asha shook her head, waving a hand dismissively. “I’m fine. Just… out of breath. The walk here, you know. Too much city life in Columbus.”

Gina frowned but didn’t press. Instead, she glanced at Asha’s half-full basket. “Getting restocked?”

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