Page 21 of The Strawberry Patch Pancake House

Iris was currently dressed in nothing but an oversized T-shirt and a pair of panties. And that was it. Iris WAS NOT WEARING PANTS in front of her boss. Dear God, why? She tugged at the hem of the shirt like that would somehow help the situation when all it did was draw Archer’s gaze down to her bare legs.

One second and then two. Heat flooded every one of Iris’s limbs. Archer, her new boss and sexy chef extraordinaire, was staring at her legs, in his kitchen, in the middle of the night. Was this a pepper-spray situation? Was it a pepper-spray situation if shelikedthat her new boss was staring at her legs?

Maybe she should pepper spray herself.

Archer cleared his throat, tearing his eyes away from her bottom half. A new expression was on his face. Gone was the composed chef, the man in charge. And in his place was a man undone, if only for a second, only a breath before he schooled his features again, before his mouth flattened out again, before disappointment replaced … lust?

Iris swallowed hard.

‘You should probably put some clothes on,’ he said, voice rough but stern. ‘Or go back to bed.’

Her cheeks went up in flames, but she didn’t know if it was embarrassment or desire that heated them.

‘Right, sorry. I’ll get out of your way.’ She pulled her shirt down over her ass and hightailed it out of there. But it was a long time before she fell back to sleep.

* * *

Archer was gone by the time Iris had to wake Olive up for school, so it was just the two of them for breakfast. And thank goodness for that because Iris didn’t feel up to facing Archer after her pant-less performance last night. The look on his face as he’d stared at her, like he wanted her to be his next meal, had haunted her for hours. It still was actually and if she didn’t have a small child to tend to, she might have let herself luxuriate in it for a bit longer. But there was no time for that today.

Olive sat at the island, her short legs swinging under the tall stool, the lack of confidence in Iris’s ability to take care of her clear as day on her face.

‘So,’ Iris said, attempting her best I’m-a-professional-nanny-and-I-love-spending-time-with-small-children smile, ‘what would you like for breakfast?’

The little girl frowned. ‘I’m not hungry.’

Hmm. Her first hour on the job and already a conundrum. Was she supposed to force her to eat?

‘Well, you need energy for school, right? You don’t want to fall asleep in the middle of math class.’

This seemed to give Olive pause. She wrinkled her little nose as she thought about it. And Iris had to admit, she was pretty cute. Objectively speaking. Like a puppy. Small things were always cute.

‘I don’t like what he has.’

It took Iris a minute to parse what Olive was saying. ‘You don’t like what your dad buys for breakfast?’

Olive nodded.

‘You probably could have told him that,’ Iris pointed out before heading back down the hall to her room. ‘Hold on.’

She returned a minute later with a box of strawberry Pop-Tarts in hand. She never moved places without them. They were the perfect emergency breakfast.

‘How about one of these?’

Olive’s eyes widened. ‘I’ve never had one.’

‘You’ve never had one? Man, what were your parents feeding you?’

Olive froze. Iris froze. What the hell was wrong with her? How had she forgotten why she was here?!

‘I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry, Olive. I know your mom was the best. I’m sure she fed you all kinds of good things.’

Olive sat fiddling with the silver wrapping of the Pop-Tarts, a small frown on her face. Iris honestly didn’t know how a five-year-old processed grief or how much she understood about what had happened to her mom and why she was stuck living with people she didn’t even know.

All of a sudden, Iris’s heart hurt.

‘Hey, I’m going to heat one up for you, okay? And then you can try it and we can talk about your mom, if you want, or we don’t have to. Okay, Olive?’

Olive nodded but didn’t speak, her dark brown gaze following Iris around the kitchen. Iris didn’t know how to help a child process the recent death of their mother, but she was pretty good at distraction.