Chapter Eight
“So, is this going to be a really long hike with a picnic at the end?” Nick asked as they walked up the road in the moonlight.
Grace laughed. “Not exactly.”
“Good, because I think we forgot the food.”
“Are you hungry again? Seriously?”
“Well, yes, and that’s a good thing. Which reminds me—when do I need to take more of that, whatever it was you gave me earlier? Your special blend of eleven herbs and spices? I still feel great, but I want to keep feeling this way,” Nick asked. “I haven’t felt this good in a while.”
“Me either.” In fact, Grace felt positively weightless.
It had to be the combination of the news about Tink, the wonderful meal, the wonderful bottle—bottles—of wine, and Nick, who she had only known for a day. Less than a day. Pathetic, Gracie-girl. Pa-the-t
