up for it, let me know. I have great contacts.’
She’d love it but she didn’t need his help. Or his company. One night of exposure and flirtation was enough to start with and this guy was just too potent for a bruised heart like hers. ‘I’ll see what the girls say.’ They’d probably ask how many men were going. But she wasn’t debunking the myth that she had protection.
Thankfully it seemed he’d accepted she wouldn’t be pinned to a decision. ‘So what else would you like to do while on beautiful Bali?’
Well, she knew she didn’t want to talk about herself. Never had really. ‘How about you tell me what you’re going to do. How long you’re here for?’
He raised his dark brows and smiled. ‘So bossy,’ he said. She wished.
Then, as if vaguely surprised at himself, he did answer her. ‘I’m here indefinitely. There’s a house up in Ubud. My mother lived there a few months every year. I’ve been visiting for a while.’
Real watch evidently. ‘Wow. And I’m guessing you have servants and everything.’ Even she could hear the reverse snobbery in her voice. Where had that come from?
He tilted his head and she guessed he’d heard it too. ‘There’s a family that maintain the buildings, yes. Have done for fifty years. Ketut and his wife have looked after my mother and she looked after them. But like family—not servants. You have a problem with that?’
Of course she didn’t. And the idea of extra family was a sweet one. She’d be happy to have a distant aunt, let alone a Balinese family looking after her. No reason on earth why she should mind except to wonder why he wanted to waste his time with her. ‘No. I’m sorry. I keep putting my foot in it with you—not sure why. It’s not common for me.’
‘Maybe it’s because I keep you off balance.’ He grinned. ‘But, then, that’s not nice for a platonic friend so I’ll apologise too.’ He glanced down at the menu. ‘We’d better order before it’s too dark for you to see what you’re eating.’
Now her hunger seemed to have soaked into the sand under her feet and she wished she could follow it. Who was out of practice as a relaxed dinner companion? ‘What are you having?’
He put the menu back on the table. ‘I’ll do the set plate with lots of seafood and a side salad.’
She couldn’t even read the menu in the dark. ‘Sounds good.’
He sat straighter and glanced around. ‘You get a drink with it. Have you tried the local beer? It’s very light.’
She’d seen it advertised everywhere. ‘No, but bought the T-shirt.’
He grinned and signalled the waiter, who appeared like magic. ‘We’ll have two Jimbaran specials, two beers and a coconut drink, please.’
Obviously she’d been blatant with her curiosity about the coconuts. But it was nice he’d seen her interest. Or was it? She’d need to watch this man. He was unobtrusively delightful.
The waiter produced two beers from his passing friend, set them down and departed with a big white smile. Harry handed one over to her. Then he carried on the conversation as if there’d been no break.
‘Those T-shirts are the most common exports with tourists. Hope you didn’t pay more than twenty thousand rupees for it.’
So he was focused. She’d need to watch that too, but she’d been dying to talk to someone about this.
She tapped her glass with her fingernail. ‘I have issues with bartering. I can see the Balinese enjoy it, but I’d prefer just to buy the darn thing without the hassle. I find it very stressful to pretend I’m offended at the price.’
He took a sip and when he didn’t answer, she decided to copy him. A tentative sip. The drink was light, still beery and she wasn’t that much of a fan, but it was cold and wet and felt wonderful going down.
Then he said, ‘Wimp,’ and she nearly choked. He grinned and went on. ‘Barter is fun. It’s part of Balinese culture, like mental gymnastics. Good bargaining can make a huge difference to a family wage if they’re lucky. But the experience should never be unpleasant or too pushy.’
‘Yeah, well. I’m such a sucker.’ She sighed. ‘What do you do when people look sad and you feel guilty you haven’t bought anything?’
‘You smile.’ He grinned and showed her how. If he smiled at someone like that they’d probably give him the thing, she thought. Free.
He went on. ‘It’s the secret of Bali. Smile and mean it. For bargaining, if they start at fifty thousand rupees, you offer twenty-five. They’ll look horrified, you smile and they’ll smile and counter with forty. Then you say thirty and they’ll take thirty-five. It’s always good to aim for about five thousand under what you want to pay so the seller wins. It’s good luck for the seller and we can all do with that.’
Not an accurate picture of barter when she was involved. She tended to wilt at the first horror and fake accusation. ‘Forty-nine thousand would be a good barter for me. That sounds easy but it’s not.’
The light from the candle flickered across his face. He shook his head and she decided he didn’t have a bad angle she could concentrate on. ‘That’s because you’re thinking personal. It’s not personal. When it all boils down to it, if you want something, think about what you’d pay for it and be happy. Then change what they’re asking into your currency and you’ll see you still have a bargain. Carry a printed version of your dollar versus their currency. It’s simpler to remember that way.’
She wasn’t sure she was ever going to enjoy bargaining but maybe she’d give it a go with a little more enthusiasm. She could write out a conversion table. ‘Okay.’
Or maybe she hadn’t sounded as convinced as she’d thought because he said, ‘Or look for fixed-price shops. There’s always one around and then you’ll get a fair price, not quite as cheap but they’ll take out the wild swings when someone really good reels you in.’
She glanced at his confident face. ‘I bet you don’t get reeled in.’
‘Not often. By the Balinese anyway.’ There was an added nuance she didn’t want to identify and thankfully their food arrived.
By this time it was darker, and even though her eyes had adjusted, the candle gave off small circles of light that didn’t include the platter beside her. The waiter brought two more tiny candlelights but she still couldn’t see what she was eating. ‘So this is a taste sensation, not a visual one?’
He laughed, deep and amused, and she felt like a trickle of that cool sand under her feet had slid down her back and along her arms. Well, she was on a beach. It was okay. But she had a strong premonition there was more trickling sand to come.
‘Want to see your dinner?’ She watched him shift his body and reach into his pocket and then suddenly there was a blinding flash.
She rubbed her eyes. He laughed again. ‘Sorry. Should’ve warned you.’ His smile beamed in the night as her vision began to recover and he handed her his camera. ‘It looks like this.’
Bonnie’s meal was captured for posterity and illuminated clearly on the camera
