Page 36 of Her Ohio Old Flame

Asha swung open the door to find Zane standing there, his hazel eyes bright against the late afternoon sun. He had a familiar ease about him, but something in his expression felt weighted. Balanced on one shoulder, he carried the old porch swing, its wooden slats now gleaming as though newly made.

“I fixed it,” he said, his grin crooked and boyish.

She blinked, a rush of warmth spreading through her chest. “The porch swing?”

“Figured it deserved a second chance,” he said, stepping inside just enough for her to notice the faint creak of the staircase behind her.

“Dad, I thought you were asleep,” she called out as she turned toward the sound.

“I did nap,” her father replied, appearing at the top of the stairs, his voice gruff but teasing, “but this is too fine a day to let waste away. Show me, son—what did you bring?”

Zane held up the swing, his grin widening. “I brought back the swing.”

Her dad descended the stairs with careful steady strides, and his eyes lit up when he saw the restored piece of furniture.He ran a hand over the smooth surface, nodding approvingly. “That’s a fine job. It looks better than new.”

“Well, if it’s worth doing, it’s worth doing well,” Zane replied.

The men laughed together, the sound filling the space like a balm against the heavy quiet of earlier. Asha lingered by the doorway, resting her hands on her hips as she watched the exchange.

Her father clapped Zane on the shoulder. “Why don’t you stay for dinner, son? We’ve got plenty to share.”

Zane hesitated, glancing briefly at Asha. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“It’s no bother,” she reassured him, wiping her hands over her jeans-clad thighs. “Dinner will be ready in half an hour. I’m making meatloaf, so we’ve got food to spare.”

Zane’s eyes softened as he met hers. “Well, in that case, thank you. I’d love to.”

The three moved outside briefly to set up the swing, her dad admiring Zane’s craftsmanship and talking about plans to sit there once her mom came home. The conversation shifted easily, moving from the pleasant weather to the influx of tourists in town. By the time they returned to the kitchen, the air between them felt lighter, more familiar.

As the men settled at the table, chatting about Mrs. Williams’s impressive recovery—three and a half weeks until she was expected to return home—Asha busied herself with finishing the dinner preparations. Her hands moved automatically as she stirred the sauce and set the table, but her mind was elsewhere.

Zane’s easy laugh mingled with her father’s deep chuckle, grounding her in a way she didn’t know she needed. Yet, beneath that sense of comfort, the pressure inside her mounted. She glanced at Zane from the corner of her eye, his profile striking against the fading light pouring in through the window.

How could she tell him? How could she shatter the pedestal on which he’d placed their mentor?

She swallowed hard, tightening her hand around the serving spoon. Maddy’s words echoed in her mind, clear and steady:It’s not about them. It’s about you—and about protecting others who might be at risk.

Dinner was almost ready, but Asha wasn’t sure how she could broach the subject with Zane—even if she wanted to do just that.

Dinner had been a resounding success. Asha was an amazing cook, something Zane had only begun to appreciate in recent weeks. The meatloaf had been perfectly seasoned, accompanied by creamy mashed potatoes and green beans sautéed with garlic. Despite protests from both Asha and her dad, Zane rolled up his sleeves and joined in on the cleanup, insisting that no one should have to tackle the dishes after a meal like that.

When the kitchen gleamed once more, they settled into the cozy living room. Asha appeared with dessert—individual chocolate lava cakes, their molten centers oozing decadence at the first bite. Zane couldn’t help but let out a low whistle of appreciation as the rich, gooey chocolate melted on his tongue.

Mr. Williams leaned back in his armchair, switching on the television. “CNN or Netflix?”

“Your call,” Zane said, trying to suppress a grin as he saw Asha roll her eyes at her father’s predictable choices.

The conversation in the living room drifted comfortably from one topic to another, the warmth of good food and better company settling over them. Zane tried to focus on the banter and Asha’s laugh, but his thoughts kept circling back toMacCready. Lou’s suspicions had lingered in Zane’s mind like a stubborn ember, refusing to be extinguished.

Why would anyone target a man like Tate MacCready? The idea didn’t sit right with him. He couldn’t ignore Lou’s instincts that something was off, but Zane couldn’t reconcile it with the mentor who had guided him toward firefighting, who’d helped Asha shape her path to law. No, this had to be some unfortunate coincidence.

He forced the thoughts aside as Mr. Williams cleared his throat. “You’ve gone awfully quiet. What’s on your mind, son?”

Zane offered a small smile, shaking his head. “Just thinking about how beautiful it is up in the hills this time of year. I’ve got the next two days off, and I was wondering if Asha might want to go hiking or camping with me.”

Asha raised an eyebrow, her lips quirking. “Hiking? I’m not sure my big city legs can handle your Appalachian trails.”

Zane chuckled, leaning back on the couch. “They’re not that tough. Well, unless you’re looking to do the long trails. But we’ll stick to something manageable for city folk. Maybe even a campsite with a real bathroom—just for you.”

---