“Maybe after the next couple of weeks...”

“I want to work on the race, not our relationship,” he said. “You were pretty clear where you stood on relationships and I’m not interested in concessions. Let’s focus on the sport.”

“Right,” she said. And he could see her regroup internally, setting her mind on the appropriate track.

But he had no illusions. Gretchen was strong-willed, which was what had made her successful. If she wanted him back, she would be applying her best strategy to that end. She would be careful and clever because he had a deal with the institute. Not with her, but with the institute, and he was adamant about that distinction. He had allowed his name to be used to promote the institute and, in return, the training fees had been sharply reduced while he maintained a priority-client position. She would not want him to take his business elsewhere.

So, while they finished their beer, she got out her laptop and showed him some charts and graphs worked up to highlight where he stood with major competitors. These competitors weren’t clients of hers, of course; that would be unethical. But their times had been carefully recorded so that Blake had all the necessary information. During the week Gretchen was here they would have one triathlon run and after that he’d work on individual events with plenty of time and nourishment to fully recuperate. He’d enter the race at his strongest and healthiest.

Meanwhile, there would be a lot of spiritual preparedness—envisioning the track, the route, the events. He also practiced yoga and Tai Cheng; Gretchen totally approved and preached the mental aspect of the sport. It was said running was 90 percent mental and the other 10 percent was...mental. But there was a significant difference in the way Blake and Gretchen practiced this aspect of the sport. She was powerfully strong and demanded of her mind that she focus, that she be present only in the race.

Blake practiced by letting go. Trust.

A tai chi mentor had run with him a few times and had said, “Your pace is choppy. Stop running on the trail. Be the trail. Your chi will decide the pace. Trust.”

He had no option but to trust. Really, he shouldn’t be alive today much less a winning triathlete. He learned to run to survive. He ran to live. He was a small kid in a terrible neighborhood filled with pimps and dealers and gang members, and if he couldn’t run, he’d be at least beaten to a pulp.

He still ran to live.

It was nearly five by the time they’d changed clothes and assembled Gretchen’s bikes. It was not a workout but a casual ride, a rejuvenation and a chance to get Gretchen acquainted with the landscape and moisture in the air. When they took the bikes out through the gym door and down the beach stairs, Blake noticed that Winnie was on her deck with company—the ladies of a certain age: Ray Anne, Lou and Carrie. Lin Su was also there, of course.

Charlie would be home from school by now and either doing his homework or secretly searching for his roots, but he was not in sight.

Blake waved and the women waved back, yelling hello.

“Who are they?” Gretchen asked.

“A neighbor lady and her friends. They get together sometimes. They call it a hen party.”

“Attractive,” she pointed out. “Particularly the blonde.”

“That would be Ray Anne, who is probably in her sixties, fighting back age. Winnie is the lady next door. She suffers from ALS so her friends often come to her after work. A little happy hour.”

They set up their bikes on the beach road, pointing toward the town. Gretchen put a hand on the back of Blake’s shoulder as he got astride and slowly moved that hand down his back to cup one firm butt cheek. “Ready?” she asked.

He put a foot on the pedal and shot out, riding down the beach road ahead of her. When he got to the marina, before continuing to the road through town, he stopped. He put a foot down and waited for her. She caught up to him and stopped. “Don’t ever do that again,” he said. “Especially in front of my neighbors.”

“Wow. Little touchy, aren’t you?”

“We’re not together, remember? You’re my trainer. My coach. You don’t pat my ass to imply we’re lovers. You hear me, Gretchen?”

“Jeez. You bet,” she said.

She put her foot to the pedal and rode out ahead of him.

* * *

Wherever Winnie was, Lin Su was not far away. While Charlie worked on his homework at the dining room table inside, Lin Su was with Winnie and her friends. Then Blake came outside with a woman, an incredibly beautiful woman, and waved at them.

They all waved back. And stared.

There was the little ass-pat, then off they went. They looked like a Nike ad, riding across the beach road in the late-afternoon sun.

“God bless those biker shorts,” Lou said.

“Seriously,” Ray Anne agreed. “Do you suppose it’s too late to make a play for a younger man?”

“It was too late fifteen years ago,” Carrie said.

“I know what you mean, though,” Winnie said. “That is one fine-looking man. But given what we just saw there, he’s not going to give any of us the time of day. I do believe Mr. Smiley is spoken for.”

“Hmm,” Lou said. “Then do you think we can get him to jump out of a cake for us?”

While the women laughed hysterically at themselves, Lin Su just looked at her hands for a moment. And she wondered if she would ever learn. She felt so foolish.

Ten

It was only a couple of days until Blake brought his trainer to Winnie’s to introduce her to the entire family, including Lin Su. Charlie had already met her because he went to Blake’s gym every day and had pronounced her awesome.

Lin Su found that Gretchen was not only beautiful, she was charming. Delightful. Lin Su almost felt relieved in a way. It was a little bit like meeting Peyton—Lin Su’s brief crush on Scott was forever cured in deference to her admiration for the wonderful physician’s assistant. Thus it was with Gretchen. She instantly felt she couldn’t hold a candle to the beautiful, athletic blonde. Not only could Gretchen keep up with Blake, she advised him on how to improve his skills. His already staggeringly successful skills.

The visit of the gorgeous coach took Lin Su’s mind off her idle fantasies and she was reminded of a couple of things she wanted to do. She asked to run an errand while Winnie napped and Mikhail watched television. She drove to North Bend to pick up the walker she had ordered for Winnie, and while she was out, she dropped into a craft store and department store. She had finally thought of a proper gift for a bachelor—towels that she would embroider with his initials.