Read The Bridal Path: Ashley for Free Online
Authors: Sherryl Woods
maybe mashed and swimming in gravy. He tossed a few into the basket, mindful that they could manage only so much on the Harley. For once Ashley didn’t even blink an eye.
Unfortunately when they came to the dairy case, she smacked his hand as he reached for the butter and selected a container of no-fat sour cream that had him grinding his teeth. The instant her back was turned, he grabbed the butter. Two glorious pounds of it.
“I saw that,” she sang over her shoulder. “Put it back.”
“Not a chance, sweetheart. I probably should have taken a stand over the chips, but I didn’t. I’m taking one now. If I want butter, then I’ll have butter. And meat,” he added, grabbing a handful of steaks.
“All that stuff will clog your arteries,” she countered. “You’ll be dead before you hit fifty.”
“That’s a chance I’m willing to take.” He peered straight into her eyes and said seriously, “Sweetheart, at some point, you have to decide which things make life worth living.”
Her disapproving expression faded. Her lips began to quirk up at the corners. “And for you that’s butter and beef?”
“Among other things,” he said with a deliberately provocative note in his voice.
Ashley promptly blushed and looked away.
“That, too,” he said, chuckling, “but actually I was referring to food.”
“Sure you were.”
“I swear it.” He crossed his heart to prove it. “Fudge brownies, for instance. Rocky Road ice cream. Big, juicy hamburgers with crisp onion rings.”
She rolled her eyes at the litany. “As if I’d believe anything you swore to.”
“Still misjudging me,” he said with exaggerated sorrow. “And after we’ve been so close.”
The shocked gasp he heard had not come from Ashley. He turned slowly and spotted a short, gray-haired woman in baggy denims, an even baggier sweatshirt and bright red high-top sneakers. She had disapproval written all over her pinched face.
Dillon might not have recognized the casual, ill-fitting outfit, but he would have recognized that face anywhere. He’d stared at it every morning for his third period algebra class his sophomore year. And again his junior year, when he’d had to repeat the class.
“Why, hello, there, Mrs. Fawcett,” he said cheerfully. Despite her current expression, she was the one teacher at Riverton High he remembered with any degree of fondness. She might have flunked him, but she’d eventually bullied him into learning.
“Dillon Ford, you are as incorrigible as ever,” she announced in the same voice she would have used to dismiss a pesky student. Her gaze shifted to Ashley. “As for you, I’m shocked to find you with this…”
Words seemed to fail her. She finally settled for calling him a mischief-maker. Dillon hid a chuckle at her notion of a disparaging label. She had had a whole list of names she’d trotted out years ago when she’d been displeased with his performance in class. Apparently she’d forgotten them.
“I’m not with him,” Ashley said in a rush. “That is…oh, never mind. It’s good to see you, Mrs. Fawcett. Dani wrote to me about your retirement. How have you been enjoying all your free time?”
“I’m bored stiff,” she said succinctly.
Dillon watched as a spark of pure devilment lit Ashley’s eyes.
“Perhaps you’d enjoy a ride on Dillon’s motorcycle, then,” she suggested to their old teacher. “It’s remarkable how young and alive it makes you feel.”
Delighted with Ashley’s probably unintended admission that she had enjoyed the ride, Dillon was quick to jump in and echo the invitation. “Come on, Mrs. Fawcett. How about a quick spin, just to the top of the hill and back?”
“Young man, I will not be climbing on the back of that contraption in this lifetime,” she said, despite a rather wistful glance outside at the offensive vehicle.
She scowled at Ashley. “And you have no business on it, either. It’s improper and dangerous. You, of all people,
Unfortunately when they came to the dairy case, she smacked his hand as he reached for the butter and selected a container of no-fat sour cream that had him grinding his teeth. The instant her back was turned, he grabbed the butter. Two glorious pounds of it.
“I saw that,” she sang over her shoulder. “Put it back.”
“Not a chance, sweetheart. I probably should have taken a stand over the chips, but I didn’t. I’m taking one now. If I want butter, then I’ll have butter. And meat,” he added, grabbing a handful of steaks.
“All that stuff will clog your arteries,” she countered. “You’ll be dead before you hit fifty.”
“That’s a chance I’m willing to take.” He peered straight into her eyes and said seriously, “Sweetheart, at some point, you have to decide which things make life worth living.”
Her disapproving expression faded. Her lips began to quirk up at the corners. “And for you that’s butter and beef?”
“Among other things,” he said with a deliberately provocative note in his voice.
Ashley promptly blushed and looked away.
“That, too,” he said, chuckling, “but actually I was referring to food.”
“Sure you were.”
“I swear it.” He crossed his heart to prove it. “Fudge brownies, for instance. Rocky Road ice cream. Big, juicy hamburgers with crisp onion rings.”
She rolled her eyes at the litany. “As if I’d believe anything you swore to.”
“Still misjudging me,” he said with exaggerated sorrow. “And after we’ve been so close.”
The shocked gasp he heard had not come from Ashley. He turned slowly and spotted a short, gray-haired woman in baggy denims, an even baggier sweatshirt and bright red high-top sneakers. She had disapproval written all over her pinched face.
Dillon might not have recognized the casual, ill-fitting outfit, but he would have recognized that face anywhere. He’d stared at it every morning for his third period algebra class his sophomore year. And again his junior year, when he’d had to repeat the class.
“Why, hello, there, Mrs. Fawcett,” he said cheerfully. Despite her current expression, she was the one teacher at Riverton High he remembered with any degree of fondness. She might have flunked him, but she’d eventually bullied him into learning.
“Dillon Ford, you are as incorrigible as ever,” she announced in the same voice she would have used to dismiss a pesky student. Her gaze shifted to Ashley. “As for you, I’m shocked to find you with this…”
Words seemed to fail her. She finally settled for calling him a mischief-maker. Dillon hid a chuckle at her notion of a disparaging label. She had had a whole list of names she’d trotted out years ago when she’d been displeased with his performance in class. Apparently she’d forgotten them.
“I’m not with him,” Ashley said in a rush. “That is…oh, never mind. It’s good to see you, Mrs. Fawcett. Dani wrote to me about your retirement. How have you been enjoying all your free time?”
“I’m bored stiff,” she said succinctly.
Dillon watched as a spark of pure devilment lit Ashley’s eyes.
“Perhaps you’d enjoy a ride on Dillon’s motorcycle, then,” she suggested to their old teacher. “It’s remarkable how young and alive it makes you feel.”
Delighted with Ashley’s probably unintended admission that she had enjoyed the ride, Dillon was quick to jump in and echo the invitation. “Come on, Mrs. Fawcett. How about a quick spin, just to the top of the hill and back?”
“Young man, I will not be climbing on the back of that contraption in this lifetime,” she said, despite a rather wistful glance outside at the offensive vehicle.
She scowled at Ashley. “And you have no business on it, either. It’s improper and dangerous. You, of all people,