The two of us were in my favorite interview room at the sheriff’s office. Nothing had changed since the last time I’d been there: same rectangular fluorescent light fixture, same scratched and scarred table, same worn chairs. I’d been first in the room and I’d made sure to get the one chair that didn’t wobble. If I’d been stuck with the worst-wobbling one, I would for sure have started to rock back and forth, making an irregular tink-tink-tink noise that would have driven Ash crazy. And since he was a good friend—and former boyfriend—I didn’t want to do that to him.

Once again, I idly wondered about the oddities of personal chemistry. Ash was smart, funny, and incredibly good-looking. Yet there’d been no spark between us. Being with him had been nice enough but had completely lacked the skin-prickling fireworks that exploded when Rafe’s hand touched mine. Maybe a sparkage lack had pushed him and Chelsea apart? But, no. I’d seen them together too many times. The electricity between them was almost visible. I shook my head and turned my attention to the topic at hand.

“Lots of things are good at just above freezing?” I asked. “Really? Name five.”

Ash held up his index finger. “Collecting maple sap.”

Okay, he had me there. I gave him a nod. “That’s one. Four more.”

He held up a second finger. “Snowshoeing.” Finger number three. “Running.” Number four. “Fat-tire biking.” He grinned and held up his thumb for number five. “Beer drinking.”

I made a rude noise in the back of my throat. “You can’t count drinking beer.”

“Sure I can,” he said. “Tell you what. How about I text Rafe and ask him? He can be the tie breaker.”

That was ridiculous, because of course Rafe would agree with Ash on the appropriateness of beer drinking. “Back to your number four. Fat-tire biking. Are you doing much of that? I hear it’s fun, but I haven’t talked to anyone about it who isn’t trying to sell me something.”

His face, which had been cheerful, fell into blankness. “Earlier this winter I was getting out three or four times a week. Now, not so much.”

I could have kicked myself. My tiny little memory had remembered too late that Ash and Chelsea had done a lot of fat-tire biking together. “Sorry about that,” I said. He shrugged and toyed with the edge of the table. I watched this for a moment, then said softly, “I was sorry to hear about you and Chelsea. Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

His response had been so fast, I’d barely finished the question. I waited a beat. “If you ever want to talk, I’m here to listen.”