How dare he lay claim to her?

When Sorene walked into the Pump House she’d seen Ash and Leia as cozy as nesting ptarmigans at the bar sharing drinks, which is what prompted her to accept Bart’s invitation to dance.

Sorene wrenched her arm out of Ash’s grip. “You are out of line.”

“Why are you letting this player drool all over you?” Ash demanded.

“Player?” Bart objected.

“Yeah, player. Can you deny the string of broken hearts left in your wake?”

“Can you?” Bart countered, glancing at Sorene.

“Keep me out of your rutting contest.” Sorene swiveled to return to both her table and her wing-woman who currently didn’t have her back. She swept the room looking for her wayward sister. There, in the corner booth, Cat was curled up with Todd Ellis, one of the owners of Heart Spring Eternal Spa and Resort, and technically her boss.

Ash grabbed her arm again. “You aren’t going anywhere until we’ve hashed out a few things.”

Heat flared dangerously to the surface, warming her to a boil. “We have nothing to hash out.”

“Hey,” Bart objected. “I know you two have history, but she’s dancing with me.”

“Stay out of this,” Ash slurred.

“You’re drunk,” Sorene accused. Ash wasn’t a heavy drinker, and she’d never seen him plastered like this, not even in high school when partying was the main activity during the long winter months. He didn’t hold his liquor well and always made bad decisions when he indulged too much, as he had that night with Leia.

“Bet your ass I am,” Ash stated. “You can drive a man to drink.”

“Don’t blame your condition on me.”

“What about my broken heart? Are you going to take responsibility for crushing that?”

“Your broken heart?” What about her heart? He’d destroyed her. She hadn’t been able to trust another man in all these years, and he’d trampled the urge to even date, and there had been offers. Plenty—well, at least for the first few years. Then then they had dried up. Except for Bart. He hadn’t given up on her. Yet.

“I’m dancing with Bart tonight, and you looked cozy enough with Leia at the bar.”

A smile spread over his lips. “You noticed.”

“Hard not to as she was basically giving you a lap dance. I guess you like them cheap and easy.”

Speaking of hard not to notice. They’d become a spectacle. Someone had even turned the music down so their words traveled further.

“Dude, you need to back off.” Bart gave him a shove. “You aren’t going to like yourself come morning. Go home and sleep it off.”

Ash threw a drunken punch that Bart easily avoided, and his momentum sent him spiraling to the floor.

“All right, break it up.” Dawson joined the fray. “It’s time for you to head home, Ash.” He helped him to his feet.

Leia appeared, reaching for him. “Ash, honey, did you hurt yourself?”

Sorene wanted to vomit at her sickly-sweet, childlike voice. Could she be any more fake in her concern?

Leia hooked her arm around Ash’s waist. “Let’s get your coat, and I’ll drive you home.”

Oh, no way was Sorene letting Leia take him home. She didn’t question why; she just stepped in. “Ash is coming with me. We have things to discuss.”

“’Bout time,” Dawson muttered. “You two need a ‘come to Jesus talk’ before this town starts taking bets.” He headed back to the bar.

“I offered to drive him first.” Leia pouted. “I’ll take him, Sorry.”

“That’s it.” While Sorene would gladly participate in a tug of war with Leia—one Leia would lose—she wasn’t taking the name calling anymore. She advanced toward Leia, and the determined look in her eye had Leia dropping her hold on Ash. Sorene didn’t stop until she was right in Leia’s face, her large, brown eyes wide with fright. “My name is Sorene,” she stated in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “Call me Sorry again, and you’ll be the one who is sorry.”

Sorene grabbed ahold of a surprised and muted Ash, holding her other hand out for the coat Dawson had returned to the bar to collect. “Tell Cat that I took Ash home, and can you make sure she gets safely home?”

The look on Dawson’s face said he’d rather do anything else other than that, but he nodded.

“Sorene,” Bart called after her when she turned toward the exit. “You owe me a dance, and I plan on collecting.”

Great, just great.

This is what she got for taking Cat’s advice. She should have just stayed home and curled up with a good book.