I hold her gaze. “You could have worked somewhere else.”
“What do you care where I work?”
“I don’t. I just?—”
“Abby started today too. Are you stopping her next to check why she isn’t scooping ice cream or lifeguarding?”
I scowl.
Wren scowls back.
“You could have told me,” I say. “We saw each other a few weeks ago, and you didn’t mention …”
“I didn’t know what my plans were then. And”—her chin lifts—“I didn’t think we were on that sort of basis. Or did I misunderstand our last conversation here?”
She’s talking about New Year’s Eve. Would I have handled that differently if I’d known she’d be here all of this summer? Probably. I’m just not sure how. I’m never sure around Wren.
“Would be a real pain if I had to update every guy I’ve hooked up with about every little thing happening in my life,” she continues.
I fight another scowl. Of course there have been other guys since me. It’s fucking ridiculous that it bothers me. As Wren just pointed out, I was the one who ended whatever we were starting to become.
“You’re right,” I say, and her eyes momentarily widen with surprise. “Forget I said anything.”
Then I straighten and head for my truck.
20
Five, four, three, two, one, up!
I rise into two-point position at the perfect moment, shoving my hands higher. The rough gray strands of Apollo’s braided mane rasp against my knuckles as she soars over the combination, that addictive dip appearing as we remain airborne for a few thrilling seconds. Hooves hit sand footing as Apollo clears the jump, cantering toward the final crossbar, and I sink back down into the saddle.
We clear the final hurdle with inches to spare, and Alice shouts praise as I tug Apollo to a trot. I’ve only ridden at this stable a few times before, never spending long enough in the Hamptons to make it a regular recurrence. Apollo arrived yesterday from the Connecticut stable she normally stays at. I figured, if I was going to commit to a summer here, I might as well go all in.
I tug on the reins, and Apollo slows to a walk. I kick my feet out of the stirrups, crossing the leather straps over the saddle’s pommel, letting my legs relax and my toes flex.
“All good?” Alice calls.
I flash the head trainer a thumbs-up. She nods, smiles, then heads back into the barn.
I push the brim of my helmet up so I can swipe the sweat off my forehead, then pat Apollo’s damp neck. I only get to ride her a couple of days a week at home, and I might not have the chance to come here that much more frequently now that I’m working at the yacht club. I’m still glad that I applied for the waitressing job. I like the other waitresses, and I like the satisfaction of completing a task that has purpose.
I like looking for Sawyer every time I step into the kitchen, although I’d never admit it. This silly fascination with him has lingered for eleven months. Now, surely, it’s close to disappearing? Until it does, I’ve had plenty of practice at pretending it has. He thinks I dated someone else, and most of the other marina guys—particularly Aaron—flirt with me every chance they get. There’s no way that Sawyer suspects I’m not over our fling.
Once Apollo has cooled down, I lead her back into the barn, untacking and then deciding to hose her off. I get soaked in the process, too, and one of the grooms graciously offers to turn Apollo out for me. I kiss her muzzle, change into shorts in one of the restrooms off the tack room, and head for my car.
Gia calls as I’m pulling out of the stable’s parking lot.
“You’re still coming to Leah’s, right?”
“Yeah, I—” I check the time on the dash. “I got caught up at the barn. I just have to swing home and change. Twenty minutes. Thirty, tops.”
Gia sighs. “Hurry! Everyone’s asking where you are.”
Dad is outside, fiddling with the sprinkler settings, when I park in front of the house my parents rented for this summer. It’s nice, not as bigas Scarlett and Crew’s, but also located directly on the water. Waking up to views of the ocean didn’t take any getting used to.
I climb out of my convertible, and Dad raises his eyebrows, glancing up at the clear sky.
“Passing shower?”
