“Peppers. Prosciutto.” Brent dropped both ingredients into the pan after removing the browned chicken. “Garlic.”
Quinn handed him the garlic he’d chopped, and then the tomatoes when asked. Brent poured in the wine and sprinkled in the herbs. After stirring the mixture, he put the chicken back into the pan, along with chicken stock, set the burner to simmer, and covered the pan.
“Half an hour,” Brent announced.
Quinn smirked. “We can drink the rest of wine while we wait.”
“Nope,” Brent replied, smacking Quinn’s hand when he reached for the bottle.
“But, but…” Quinn feigned a pout.
Laughing, Brent poured them each a glass, which they took out to the back patio.
“A beautiful evening,” Quinn said, leaning back in one of the lounge chairs. “I wish it could stay like this forever.”
“No k
