Page 39 of Her Billionaire's Baby Secret

Chapter 11

Once the two grandmothers had bought their dinner, Kane stepped up to the food stand and ordered two corn dogs. He handed one to Sariah and kept the other for himself.

“Are you sure?” Sariah took it from him. “I can pay for my own.”

“Let the man buy you dinner,” her grandmother chided. “He wants to do it.”

“Thank you, Kane.” She took a bite into the fried cornbread outer layer. “Mm. This is good.”

“Do you want any mustard?” He squirted some from the plastic bottle onto his corn dog.

“No thanks. I think it tastes great just as it is. I’m not much of a mustard person anyway.”

“How can you not be a mustard person?” Kane teased. “Especially spicy mustard. That’s my favorite.” It didn’t surprise him though. She’d turned down all kinds of foods while they’d dated in high school.

“The spicy kind is the worst!” Sariah said.

“I thought you liked spicy foods,” Kane said.

“I like spicy peppers. Not spicy mustard. There’s a big difference,” Sariah insisted.

Kane laughed. Her reaction was just exactly what he’d hoped for. “What about horseradish?”

“Are you kidding me? That stuff is disgusting. Some of the stuff people put on their foods shouldn’t be considered edible.”

“I never realized you were such a picky eater,” his grandmother said.

“I knew she was,” Kane said. “But she’s so fun to tease.”

“Hey! I’m not that picky. I enjoy plenty of foods.”

Compared to his varied diet, she didn’t. He liked to eat all kinds of strange foods. He’d eaten dishes from all over the world. But he didn’t fault her for her simple diet. She could eat whatever she wanted.

They walked around with their food and shopped at some of the booths of handmade pottery and jewelry. The two grandmas stopped at a stand that sold hand-beaded necklaces, and Kane kept walking with Sariah.

At the section for the local bookstore, he picked up a cookbook that featured recipes from around the world. “Maybe we should get this for you to help you expand your horizons.”

“Very funny. I think my horizons are just fine.” She swiped the cookbook from him and put it back.

He picked the cookbook up again and flipped through it. “Look, they have a recipe for chicken’s feet in here. I hear it’s all the rage in South America.”

“Eww! Chicken’s feet? Why would anyone eat that?”

“Plenty of people eat it. They would think you’re weird for not eating it.”

“Have you tried it?” she asked.

“Once. It wasn’t very good.”

“You actually ate chicken’s feet? Now I’m not sure I can ever kiss you again.”

He raised his brow. “Were you thinking about it?” His heart raced thinking about her mind being on kissing him.

She made a grossed-out face. “Eating chicken’s feet?”

“No. Kissing me.” He looked up from the book to her flushed cheeks.

“I’m not telling you.” She took the book from his hands and shut it, placing it back on the wire rack.

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