“I can wake up on Sunday mornings,” said Tommy indignantly. “I just usually choose not to. About my proposal. Do we have a deal?”
“We do. Where’s the wedding?” asked Mitchell.
“On the front lawn of the Repulse Bay hotel for the midday ceremony and cocktails. But my sister’s fiancé has managed to snag the large ballroom at the Grand Hyatt for the banquet. Middle of July.”
“The Repulse Bay front lawn in July? What if it rains?”
“They have this wonderful invention called a marquee. And before you say it, we still have the Hyatt ballroom if there’s atyphoon. But it had better be a super-typhoon. Otherwise, some weather god or another will have to answer to my sister and grandmother.”
Mitchell hadn’t considered the family angle. Would he need to be friendly to Tommy’s family members only to be dumped on the day of the sister’s wedding? Maybe he would have to be the one breaking them up to make sure Tommy ended the day smelling of roses. Except Mitchell was hopeless at lying. Always had been. And on top of that, Hong Kong had a way of making sure you ran into people again, even those you might not want to see.
“Listen, my sister’s looking for recommendations for wine to serve at the hen night dinner. You’re a wine buff, aren’t you? I noticed you savouring a glass of red at Beth and Kate’s place.”
Mitchell smiled down at the tabletop, not because of the veiled compliment but at the thought that Tommy had noticed him.
“I wouldn’t exactly call myself a connoisseur, but I know what I like.”
“What about the wine you’re drinking right now.“
“This? Italian red. Montepulciano D’Abruzzo. Dry and quite young, a recent vintage.”
“Wow. Spot on. I’m impressed.”
“You shouldn’t be. I often come to this bar and Montepulciano D’Abruzzo is the only house red they serve by the glass. And always a recent vintage. You don’t have to be a connoisseur to know that, just familiar with the bar’s drinks menu. Or as your friend, Devon, might say, there’s more than one way to skin a banana.”
Tommy laughed again, a sound Mitchell was beginning to enjoy.
“You know, Devon might have a habit of mixing up sayings—”
“Malaphors, I believe they’re called. A blend of aphorisms and malapropisms.”
“If you say so. But first of all, you should know that he is the nicest, kindest guy I know, with not a bad bone in his body, and, secondly, I am fairly sure that sometimes when you think he’s mixing them up, he actually knows exactly what he’s saying.”
“I look forward to hearing more on Sunday morning at six during our first official date.”
Tommy merely groaned. “Hell, what have I let myself in for?”
Chapter Six
Robbed of Sunday sleep again and running late, Tommy rounded the corner to the Central ferry concourse skirting Victoria Harbour and stumbled to a halt. He slid his limited-edition Ray-Bans down his nose to witness a group of jolly-looking people togged out in a mishmash of unflattering fluorescent hiking gear. Instead of doing the sensible thing of spinning on his limited-edition Nike heels and heading back home, he huffed out an irritated sigh, fixed the sunglasses back in place and forged onwards. Bright colours and cheerfulness ought to be banned on Sunday mornings. Or at least minimised until the serving of brunch cocktails. But a deal was a deal. After several scans of the crowd, he finally spotted Mitchell in a dark brown top and tan shorts, standing out like a millionaire’s shortbread in a sea of Smarties.
“I didn’t think you’d show,” said Mitchell, daring to grin at his approach.
“Don’t speak to me.”
“Not a morning person?”
“Not a Sunday morning person. There’s a difference.”
“Here.” Mitchell reached to the ground, where a cardboard coffee cup sat. “Devon said you might need one of these to improve your mood.”
“Latte?”
“With a double shot.”
“You are marginally forgiven,” said Tommy, taking the cup and attempting a smile. “Where is Devon?”
“He went on ahead in Oscar’s car. Some of the hikers are getting to the starting point under their own steam. Oscar wanted to be there to meet and greet.”
