Page 27 of After You Returned

Warren marches toward me.

“Easier said than done,” I mutter before hanging up on Scarlett.

“Sorry.” I shove my phone in my back pocket. “I needed to reassure a patient.”

“A patient?” He snorts. “You’re a physical therapist. Not a doctor.”

Oh, goodie, the obnoxiousness has begun.

“Where are our horses?” I walk toward the stables without waiting for his answer. I’m being rude, but it’s better than slamming my fist in his crooked nose. Although, a broken nose might fix it. Something to think about.

We reach the stables and I allow Warren to lead me to a stall. “This is Ginger. I thought you’d want to ride her since you’re a ginger.”

“Very observant. I do have red hair.”

He wiggles his eyebrows. “Do the carpets match the drapes?”

I fist my hands before I punch him. Why are my parents obsessed with this jerk? I’m not the only sister they’ve set upwith him. Sadie has also been a victim of their matchmaking. But she’s smarter than me. She faked a stomach bug and made retching noises in the restroom until Warren left.

“I don’t like carpets,” I say and watch as Warren tries not to swallow his tongue.

While he’s frozen in place, I open the stall and lead Ginger out. “Aren’t you a pretty girl?”

A saddle pad and saddle are already on her back. I quickly check she’s comfortable with the equipment before leading her out of the stables.

“You ready to go?” I ask Warren before mounting the horse. “Which trail?”

I’d ride off without him but I didn’t check which trails are safe – trails can get flooded or overrun by sand dunes – before I arrived. Because I thought this was a fun family day.

Warren mounts his horse and joins me before answering. “The Tipsy Trail.”

I frown at Warren’s answer. The Tipsy Trail is a gentle ride for beginners or bachelorette party groups who drink too much moonshine.

“What about Rumrunner’s Ridge?” It’s a steep, winding trail the Prohibitionists supposedly used to hide the good stuff.

“Ginger’s not good with steep trails.”

“What about Whiskey Creek Run?”

“Hazel.” He scowls at me. “I’m the expert here and I have decided we’re riding the Tipsy Trail.”

I roll my eyes. If he was such an expert, he’d know I’ve been riding horses since I was five and can handle all of the difficulttrails, including Bootlegger’s Bend that twists like a drunken sailor’s story.

“I’ll lead,” he says as he clicks his tongue and his horse begins prancing toward the start of the trail.

I glare at his back. At least if he leads, he can’t stare at my ass the entire time.

We ride for a few minutes before we reach the beach. Warren slows down until I’m next to him.

“How have you been, Hazel? We haven’t spoken for a while.”

“I’m fine.”

“Your dad said you’re still working at theSmuggler’s CoveRestaurant. You’re kind of old to be a waitress.”

Wow. Isn’t he full of compliments?

“I’m the hostess, and it’s part-time.”