Page 52 of Partner Pursuit
“Scandinavia is not a country,”shesaid.
“Technicality. It’s a way of living. I covered Denmark the year afterHolland.”
“Not Sweden?”
“Lost out to the guy who spoke Swedish,” he said. They bicycled comfortably up the Hudson River.
“What’d you like about their philosophy of living?”she asked.
Jake stopped his bike and looked out over the river: “That you should take the time to enjoy life and it’s not all about making more money. It’s about making time for friends and your relationships. Somethinghyggecan be a good meal, candles, and friends over.” He turned to look at her as if to gauge herreaction.
Audrey, stopping her bike next to his, returned his gaze. “Yes,” she said. “I wish I knew how to be better at that.” She did. But today was a step in thatdirection.
He nodded. Their eyes met as if some bond had just formed. They cycled upthepath.
Audrey’s bike suddenly swerved. The back tire wasdeflating.
“I have a flat,” she said, dismayed, and stopped her bike. A flat back tire was about to torpedo this outing that was going so well. So much for her backpack ofsupplies.
Jake got off his bike to take alook.
She said, “I’m so sorry. I can google bike shops nearby.”
“No need. I have a tire repairkit.”
“Now who’s the scout? Do you think you can fix it? That’scool.”
“We could also stop here and eat some of your snacks. This looks like a good spot. Why don’t you set up a picnic while I try to fix your tire?” They wheeled the bikes over to a grassy spot in the lawn beside some trees. Salsa music was playing in the distance, punctuated by the happy shouts and cries of kids playing soccer nearby. He turned her bike upside down and pumped up the tube to find theairhole.
“Where’d you learn how to fix a flat tire—Holland?”she asked.
“Boy Scouttraining,”
“I didn’t know they had Boy Scout troops in NYC.” She spread out the picnic blanket and unpacked the water bottles and the cookies.
“Haven’t you met any other NYC Boy Scouts?”
“Not that I know. But then I’m not an elderly lady trying to cross the street. Although you did save that little boy from scootering into the street. You might have to show me some of your other Boy Scout skills, like building a fire, before I believe you,” she teased.
He paused in his fixing of the tire to meet her gaze. “I’m pretty good at building a fire.Andyou?”
She felt herself heat up underhisgaze.
“I probably need a little practice,” she said,flustered.
He turned the bikeright-sideup, cleaned the grease off his hands with wipes from his bike repair kit, and lay down on the blanket next to her.He was so close.Her pulse beat faster. The silence between them lengthened. The background salsa music was a drumming beat matching her heartbeat. The salty air from the Hudson mixed with the smell of dirt from the ground. She was afraid to move. If she touched him, she felt like she’d ignite an electric shock. A seagull soared in the sky abovethem.
He rolled back up to sit on the blanket and made some joke about the best cookies in New York. She laughed, but she was on edge, her pulse hammering, not sure if she should say something to indicate she liked him as more than a friend. When he handed her a cookie on a napkin, his fingers lingered while touchinghers.
Whoosh.A soccer ball from the game nearby rolled right next to them. Jake stood and kicked the ball back. And when he sat, talking about his soccer league, the mood was lighter.The rest of the afternoon flew by. They biked at a comfortable pace, chatting companionably and laughing—with hints of flirtation. They ate dinner at a café in Inwood, at the top of Manhattan, overlooking the river. Jake texted his dog walker to ask him to walk Biscuit.
“What are you doing in the city on a summer weekend? I thought you’d be in the Hamptons or somewhere else.” Audrey finished her dinner andsatback.
“I covered a concert last night, so it was a late night. And I promised my sister I’d babysit tomorrow so she could go out on a brunch date with her friends. And you—how are you out on aSaturday?”
That was a good question, and she bit her lip as she contemplated how honest to be. “I was planning to go into the office, but this seemed like a better option.” She smiled ruefully atJake.
He grinned. “Then let’s make your playing hooky count. Let’s check out a jazz show in Harlem after dinner. We could go to Bob’s Place or the Smoke Jazz Club. Have you been to either?”
