Chapters (32)
- Cover
- Title Page
- Dedication
- Prologue
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Vanilla Crisps
- COMING SUMMER 2023
- Acknowledgments
- Discover More
- About the Author
The corner of his mouth inched up in a smile. “You’re welcome.” He set the basket down to spread out the blanket, then gestured for her to sit.
Serenity leaned over to look in the basket as he opened it. “I know I don’t smell fried chicken.”
“Yes, you do.” Gabriel waved the container past her nose.
Her stomach grumbled in response. “Did you get that from Ms. Ida’s?” She’d had the chicken there a few times and it was some of the best she had eaten.
“Not this time,” he said with a little laugh. “I wanted to make up for the whole candied yams thing, so I cooked this time—everything except the rolls.”
He’d said he could cook, but after the last time, she was a little nervous about trying his food. If it didn’t taste good, she didn’t want to hurt his feelings, especially since he’d gone through all the trouble to make the picnic special. “Um…you weren’t lying about being able to cook, were you?”
He laughed harder. “I promise I can cook. I’m still perfecting some dishes, but I went with a menu that I’m comfortable with.”
“Okay,” she said, still somewhat skeptical. “What are we having with it?”
“Potato salad and corn on the cob.” He unearthed the rest of the food, plates, utensils, and drinks.
Serenity held up a hand. “Wait a minute. Now, you know it’s bad enough to mess up picnic staples like fried chicken, but it is downright sacrilegious to screw up the potato salad. What’s the first thing everybody asks when they go to a picnic?”
“Who made the potato salad? I know.” Gabriel leaned over and gave her a soft kiss. “Do you want to fix yours first, or should I while you’re still deciding?”
“No, no, I’ll go first.” He watched her, seemingly amused as opposed to being upset, as she selected a wing, an ear of corn, a small scoop of potato salad, and a roll. She loved these particular rolls, so if nothing else, she could fill up on bread.
In contrast, he packed his plate with two pieces of chicken and a mound of potato salad. “I have bottles of iced tea and lemonade.”
“The lemonade, please.”
He opened the bottle and handed it to her, along with a napkin and a fork.