City Love(42)

“Do they even have walnuts?”

“They’re nuts for nuts. How could they not have walnuts?”

“They don’t have walnuts.”

“Wanna bet?”

I stop to look Jude in the eye. “Depends.”

“On?”

“What we’re betting.”

“Whoever loses treats for dinner next time.”

Taking this bet could be risky. Jude could see it as a romantic dinner instead of a casual dinner. But I’m positive they don’t have walnuts. Almost positive. About 98% positive.

“Deal.” We shake on it.

I dart to the Nuts 4 Nuts cart. Walnuts are on the menu.

“Yes!” Jude triumphantly shakes his fists above his head. “Walnuts in the hizzouse, son!”

“Preposterous,” I object. “Who eats roasted walnuts? How is that even a thing?”

“Are they roasted? I thought they were candied.”

“Even worse.”

Jude smirks at me. “Is someone being a sore loser?”

“The only losers are the unfortunate people ordering walnuts when, as we can see from the bogus menu, several far more delicious nuts are available.”

“What can I get you?” the nuts guy asks us.

“One cashews, please,” I order. Then I glance at Jude. “Unless you’d like some walnuts?”

“You’ve been scandalized enough.”

I pay for my cashews and offer some to Jude. We continue our walk home.

“Is this a good time to tell you . . .” Jude steps closer to me. He is so freaking adorable. Even the scar above his left eye is adorable. “. . . where I’d like to be taken to dinner next time?”

“Speaking of next time, you said you’d tell me what you’re working on next time. This is next time.”

“It’s an invention. Well, more of an improvement of an existing invention. You know how you can never pump the last bit of lotion or shampoo out of the bottle?”

“And you pry off the top and bang the bottle upside down and you still can’t get the rest out? So annoying.”

“Not anymore. I’ve found a way to modify the pump mechanism so the bottle empties every time. You can also hold spray bottles any way while you’re spraying. They don’t have to be upright for the last bit of liquid to spray out.”

“Wait. You’re saying I can spray Windex from any angle?”

“Too nerdy?”

“No, it’s totally brill. Why didn’t anyone think of that before? Why didn’t I think of that before?”

“There are so many things I kick myself for not thinking of I can’t even tell you.”

“You didn’t tell me you were a genius.”

“A genius in disguise never tells.”

The distinct sound of a harmonica approaches us from behind. I turn around to see a guy in a fedora holding a coffee cup in one hand and playing the harmonica with the other. He’s trucking along like playing an instrument while walking down the street is completely normal. That’s another thing I love about New York. I love how people aren’t afraid to be exactly who they are. No explanations. No apologies. No pressure to conform. Just raw, honest reality in your face.

“So when can the world start benefiting from your genius invention?” I ask.

“My team is meeting with potential investors next week. We think these guys are serious. After we have financial backing, the product can be manufactured and sold to companies that will hopefully replace all of their pumps and sprays with ours.”

Jude is made of way more awesome than I initially detected. It rules that he has the whole creative/going with the flow/ living outside the lines thing happening, but he’s also brilliant and dedicated enough to work on a project that could potentially blow up.

“Most free spirits don’t focus on any one thing long enough to finish what they started,” I say. “You’re different.”

“Only because I want it more. Anyone could figure this stuff out if they spent enough time on it.”

“But you’re smarter than they are.”

“I don’t know about that. I just managed to wrangle investors who will probably fund me.”

The certainty in his eyes makes me believe they will. He makes me believe that his invention will have a huge impact. His conviction is inspiring.

We’re almost at my building when Jude flaps the front of his shirt that says MULTI-TALENTED a few times in an attempt to cool off. “My shirt is soaked.”

“Feel free to take it off.”

“Right here on Fifth Avenue?”

“You’re allowed. I’m not.”

“Actually, I think women have the right to be topless outdoors in New York.”

“When’s the last time you saw a topless woman walking down the street?”

“Um, I think it was”—Jude consults a phantom watch on his wrist—“half past never?”

“Because I’m pretty sure it’s illegal.”

“Wanna bet?”

“Oh, I’m good. You already won dinner. I couldn’t handle losing again.”

“So you admit I’m right.”

“I admit nothing. Other than how sexy you are.”