Page 31 of Her Ohio Old Flame

Lou chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Sounds like a good read on you. You and me both. Books and me get along fine when they’re manuals or practical stuff, but I’d rather be out there doing the work. My military years taught me that.”

“You’ve always been a man of action.” A smile tugged at Zane’s lips. “Deputy, then police chief—it suits you.”

Lou gave a modest shrug but didn’t mask the pride in his expression. “It does. I’ll leave the heavy reading and endless studying to Maddy and her brothers. They’ve got the patience for that kind of thing. Me? I learn from doing.”

Zane smirked. “How is Maddy, by the way? Still keeping you on your toes?”

Lou’s grin widened, a flicker of warmth brightening his eyes. “Madly in love with that woman, every single day. She’s as feisty as ever, running the clinic, making sure the entire town stays healthy—and me, too, for that matter. Don’t know how I got so lucky. Back to the matter at hand, we need more manpower.” Lou tapped his index finger on the file. “Between tourist season and these fires, I’m running on fumes. And I know your department isn’t in much better shape.”

“No, we’re not,” Zane admitted. “The wildfire drained our resources, and half my crew’s out sick with a stomach bug. I had to pull a double shift myself just to cover the basics.”

Lou grimaced. “Think we should call in some outside help? State fire marshal, maybe?”

Zane considered it, his pride warring with practicality. Peaceful was a tight-knit town, and they prided themselves on handling their own problems. But this was getting out of hand.

“Yeah,” he said after a long pause. “Maybe. But first we might ask the teacher some questions, since he works at the high school and his car went up in flames.”

“It’s a stretch, but maybe someone’s got it in for him.”

Zane’s brows knitted. “It doesn’t add up. He’s not the kind of guy who’d make enemies. But if there’s even a chance, we need to find out.”

Lou nodded. “Let’s arrange an interview. I’ll call him in, see what he has to say. If we’re still stuck after talking to him, we call in the marshalls.”

Chapter Fourteen

The door creaked as Asha stepped into the house, the afternoon heat lingering on her skin. The shopping bags she carried felt heavier than they should, weighed down not by their contents but by the unease gnawing at her. She nudged the door closed with her hip, letting the screen door slap shut behind her, its sound oddly satisfying in the quiet.

In the kitchen, she dropped the bags onto the counter with more force than necessary. The impact sent a bag of apples rolling out, but she ignored it, too caught up in the storm of emotions swirling inside her. She slammed open the cupboard and shoved the canned goods into place, each clink of metal against the shelf punctuating her frustration.

“Something wrong with the cupboards?” Her dad’s query drifted from the doorway, his tone light but edged with curiosity.

She paused, hovering her hand over the next can, and glanced over her shoulder. Her dad leaned against the doorframe, one eyebrow arched in a way that made her chest tighten. He looked so much like Zane in that moment—same steady presence, same way of observing her without prying. Sheclenched her jaw and shook her head, turning back to the task at hand.

“No, Dad. Nothing’s wrong,” she muttered, her voice clipped.

“You sure? Because it looks like those poor cupboards have done something to upset you.”

Asha exhaled sharply and closed her eyes for a moment. “It’s not the cupboards.” Her shoulders sagged as she placed the last can on the shelf.

Her dad stepped further into the room, crossing his arms. “Are you mad about the spanking?”

The question caught her off guard, and her cheeks heated. She spun around to face him, with a mix of indignation and embarrassment. “No, Dad. I’m not mad about that. It’s... it’s complicated.”

He tilted his head, studying her. “What is? Zane and you?”

Her stomach twisted at the directness of his question. She busied herself unpacking the next bag, moving her hands automatically as she tried to gather her thoughts. “Maybe,” she hedged. “Probably. I don’t know.”

He moved closer, softening his voice. “Are you ever going to tell me why you left and stayed away for so long? Why we always had to visit you in Columbus?”

The weight of his words pressed against her chest, and the familiar sting of shame crept in. “Maybe I will,” she said quietly, not meeting his gaze. “Someday.”

“Will you tell someone?” He leaned against the counter, his regard steady but not unkind. “Maybe Zane. That boy deserves an explanation, Asha.”

Her throat tightened at the mention of Zane accompanied by the memory of his hazel eyes, so full of determination and emotion. Hediddeserve an explanation. How was she supposed to make him understand something she could hardly put into words? She shook her head, her response tremblingwith uncertainty. “Yes, he does. But... I’m not sure a man would understand this.”

Her dad frowned, his brow furrowing. “A man…” His expression shifted as realization dawned. “Does your mom know?”

“No,” she blurted, that syllable cutting through the air like a blade. “And I’m not going to spring this on her when she’s in rehab. She doesn’t need this right now.”

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