Read Online The Bridal Path: Ashley by Sherryl Woods - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Sherryl Woods
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giant-size chip on your shoulder.”
“If I do, people like you put it there.” With that he whipped off his backpack and dropped it on the ground at her feet. “Enjoy your picnic, sweetheart. Suddenly I’m not very hungry.”
He was gone before Ashley could gather her wits to chase after him. Mouth open, she watched as he vanished into the woods. She had two choices. She could try to catch up to him and apologize or she could retreat and make her way to the cabin, where he was bound to turn up eventually.
She decided on the latter. Maybe it was cowardice or maybe it was just the certain knowledge that Dillon needed time to cool down before he would hear any apology she offered. Obviously, she had inadvertently touched a raw nerve. Perhaps, for all the enjoyment he seemed to take in bucking the establishment, he didn’t like being labeled an outcast, after all.
And the truth was, just as she had admitted to him, she had no idea what kind of man he’d become. All she really knew was that she was deeply attracted to him, no matter what grievous sins he might have committed.
* * *
Dillon couldn’t imagine what had gotten into him back there. Surely after all these years he should have developed a thick skin when it came to disparaging looks or unwarranted comments. Growing up in Riverton, where judgments were quick and lasting, had been good training. And in fact, only a couple of days before he’d exalted at being thought of once again as a rebel, a bad boy or whatever particular label had stuck in Ashley’s head.
Maybe it wasn’t the label so much that bothered him. Maybe it was some subtle difference he’d detected in her attitude.
From the moment of his arrival, there’d been no mistaking the sexual tension blazing between the two of them. She wanted him just as badly as he wanted her.
But just now, as they’d hiked through the woods, she’d hinted that while he might be good enough to sleep with, exciting enough for a quick roll in the sack, he might not be decent enough to be friends with the lofty likes of Trent Wilde.
Ironically, of course, that was far from Trent’s view. And, even more ironically, it hurt worse coming from Ashley, a woman who by her own admission didn’t really know him at all.
The fact that it was based on a misapprehension on her part didn’t seem to matter. She’d judged him and found him wanting based on absolutely nothing but the past, and half of that she only knew because she’d heard it repeated a thousand times.
That told him quite a lot about the woman she was. He’d joked before about her being a snob, but he’d just discovered it was no laughing matter when he was on the receiving end of her unspoken disdain.
Of course, none of that kept him from wanting her. His hunger for her nagged at him like a persistent mosquito and, under the circumstances, was a hundred times more infuriating. How could he want a woman who thought so little of him?
All the way to the cabin, Dillon told himself he ought to cut his losses and find some other place to hide out for the remainder of his self-imposed exile from the L.A. rat race. But he knew he wouldn’t. He had something to prove, to himself, if not to Ashley.
He was going to win her over and he was going to do it on his own terms, without revealing that he was no longer an outsider, but a part of the establishment. Maybe in the process he’d discover why all the success he’d achieved didn’t matter nearly as much as he’d once expected it to.
Or maybe the real truth was that all the respect in the world couldn’t make up for his inability to impress the one woman who’d ever really mattered to him.
* * *
She was gone! Dillon called out to Ashley from the front porch, then again from the living room. She didn’t answer. A search of the cabin turned up no sign of her.
Acid churned in the pit of his stomach. What if she’d simply taken off? What if he never saw her again?
Well, that wouldn’t happen, he
“If I do, people like you put it there.” With that he whipped off his backpack and dropped it on the ground at her feet. “Enjoy your picnic, sweetheart. Suddenly I’m not very hungry.”
He was gone before Ashley could gather her wits to chase after him. Mouth open, she watched as he vanished into the woods. She had two choices. She could try to catch up to him and apologize or she could retreat and make her way to the cabin, where he was bound to turn up eventually.
She decided on the latter. Maybe it was cowardice or maybe it was just the certain knowledge that Dillon needed time to cool down before he would hear any apology she offered. Obviously, she had inadvertently touched a raw nerve. Perhaps, for all the enjoyment he seemed to take in bucking the establishment, he didn’t like being labeled an outcast, after all.
And the truth was, just as she had admitted to him, she had no idea what kind of man he’d become. All she really knew was that she was deeply attracted to him, no matter what grievous sins he might have committed.
* * *
Dillon couldn’t imagine what had gotten into him back there. Surely after all these years he should have developed a thick skin when it came to disparaging looks or unwarranted comments. Growing up in Riverton, where judgments were quick and lasting, had been good training. And in fact, only a couple of days before he’d exalted at being thought of once again as a rebel, a bad boy or whatever particular label had stuck in Ashley’s head.
Maybe it wasn’t the label so much that bothered him. Maybe it was some subtle difference he’d detected in her attitude.
From the moment of his arrival, there’d been no mistaking the sexual tension blazing between the two of them. She wanted him just as badly as he wanted her.
But just now, as they’d hiked through the woods, she’d hinted that while he might be good enough to sleep with, exciting enough for a quick roll in the sack, he might not be decent enough to be friends with the lofty likes of Trent Wilde.
Ironically, of course, that was far from Trent’s view. And, even more ironically, it hurt worse coming from Ashley, a woman who by her own admission didn’t really know him at all.
The fact that it was based on a misapprehension on her part didn’t seem to matter. She’d judged him and found him wanting based on absolutely nothing but the past, and half of that she only knew because she’d heard it repeated a thousand times.
That told him quite a lot about the woman she was. He’d joked before about her being a snob, but he’d just discovered it was no laughing matter when he was on the receiving end of her unspoken disdain.
Of course, none of that kept him from wanting her. His hunger for her nagged at him like a persistent mosquito and, under the circumstances, was a hundred times more infuriating. How could he want a woman who thought so little of him?
All the way to the cabin, Dillon told himself he ought to cut his losses and find some other place to hide out for the remainder of his self-imposed exile from the L.A. rat race. But he knew he wouldn’t. He had something to prove, to himself, if not to Ashley.
He was going to win her over and he was going to do it on his own terms, without revealing that he was no longer an outsider, but a part of the establishment. Maybe in the process he’d discover why all the success he’d achieved didn’t matter nearly as much as he’d once expected it to.
Or maybe the real truth was that all the respect in the world couldn’t make up for his inability to impress the one woman who’d ever really mattered to him.
* * *
She was gone! Dillon called out to Ashley from the front porch, then again from the living room. She didn’t answer. A search of the cabin turned up no sign of her.
Acid churned in the pit of his stomach. What if she’d simply taken off? What if he never saw her again?
Well, that wouldn’t happen, he
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