Page 30 of Her Ohio Old Flame

“Yeah, just grabbing a few things for the house.”

“Good call. If you’re around long enough, you should come by the lodge,” Gina offered. “The hiking trails are perfect this time of year. And we’ve got a new batch of guests, which means Stan is in full charm mode.”

Asha chuckled, some of the tension in her chest loosening. “Doesn’t he stay in full charm mode?”

“Pretty much.” Gina grinned, a flicker of pride in her eyes. “Between him and Mark keeping the books balanced, I just have to make sure nobody falls off a cliff.”

“That’s quite the setup.”

“It works.” Gina studied Asha for a moment before her expression softened. “You sure you’re okay? You seem a little… off.”

Asha hesitated, glancing toward the front of the store. The bell jingled, and relief flooded her as Tate called a goodbye to Mrs. Colette. When the door shut behind him, she exhaled a slow breath.

“Just tired,” she relented. “It’s been a lot, coming back here. And the house, my parents… you know how it is.”

Gina nodded, her expression understanding. “Yeah, I get it. This place can be a lot to handle, even on a good day, but if you ever need a break, come by the lodge. There’s nothing better to clear the mind than a good hike or take a canoe onto the lake.”

Asha managed a smile. “Thanks, Gina. I’ll think about it.”

After Asha paid for her groceries and exchanged polite words with Mrs. Colette, she stepped outside. Gina followed, chatting happily about the lodge and offering a few suggestions for hikingtrails. They paused near the bench just outside, where Gina adjusted her shopping bag, and Asha shifted her own load.

The sharp voice cut through the pleasant hum of Main Street. “No, Dad, I told you I don’t want that. Why can’t you just listen?”

Asha glanced toward the sound. Near the corner of the building, just past the storefront’s last window, stood a boy of about thirteen, his striking resemblance to Tate MacCready stopping her cold. The sharp tilt of his jaw, the dark hair combed back with precision, even the faint arch of his brow mirrored the man who now stood beside him.

“That’s Elliot,” Gina murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “MacCready’s son. Spitting image, huh?”

Elliot’s arms were crossed tightly as he glared up at his father, his face locked in defiance. MacCready, for his part, maintained a patient smile, speaking in the same measured tones Asha remembered all too well. Whatever he was saying seemed to bounce off the boy like rain on stone.

Zane rested his elbows on the worn desk in the station’s briefing room, staring at the scattered papers spread before him. His hand still tingled faintly from the spanking he’d delivered earlier, but his thoughts were elsewhere. He couldn’t shake the image of Asha—her vulnerability, her fire, and the way she’d looked at him when he’d told her he loved her.

She hadn’t said much during lunch, her apology to her dad quiet but sincere, but there was something about her demeanor—something guarded—that stuck with him like a burr under his skin.

He exhaled sharply, scrubbing a hand down his face. There wasn’t time to dwell on it now. The town had bigger problems, and Lou Santana wasn’t the type to sugarcoat bad news.

Lou entered the room, his expression as serious as ever. The police chief was a tall, broad man with a face carved by years of dealing with Peaceful’s unique blend of small-town charm and chaos. He dropped a folder onto the table and settled into the chair across from Zane.

“Dumpster fire at the high school last week, teacher’s car up in flames this week,” Lou began without preamble. “And that wildfire three weeks ago? Officially ruled arson. We’ve got ourselves a serial firebug, Zane.”

Zane leaned back in his chair, his jaw tightening. “Any leads?”

Lou shook his head, his frustration evident. “Nothing concrete. No witnesses, no clear motive. Just a lot of pissed-off residents and a fire department stretched too thin.”

Zane nodded grimly. The wildfire alone had taxed his crew to their limits, but the smaller, more targeted fires were even more troubling. Whoever was behind this wasn’t merely reckless but deliberate.

“Do you think it’s the same person?” Zane asked.

Lou shrugged, flipping open the folder to reveal photos of the charred remains of the teacher’s hybrid car. “Hard to say. The M.O. is all over the place—wildfire, dumpster, vehicle—but it feels connected. And whoever it is, they’re getting bolder.”

Zane studied the photos, turning over the possibilities. The high school fire had been bad enough—scorching the side of the building and causing panic among the staff. But targeting someone’s personal property? That took it to a whole new level.

“Tate MacCready,” Lou said, tapping the photo of the burned car. “Good guy. Well liked in town. Can’t think of a reason anyone would have it out for him.”

Zane’s frown deepened as the name clicked. “MacCready. He was my class mentor in high school.”

Lou raised an eyebrow. “Was he? I’d already left Peaceful for the military when he started teaching here. Came back a couple of years later, and he was already a big deal at the school.”

Zane nodded with a flicker of fondness. “He’s the one who encouraged me to apply for the firefighter position. Everyone else kept telling me to go to college, but MacCready? He didn’t push me in that direction. He knew it wasn’t my thing.”

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