Page 6 of The Strawberry Patch Pancake House

‘Nonsense! You’re CPR certified, you’re creative, energetic, fun, responsible…’ Gladys ticked her qualities off her fingers. ‘And most importantly, you are available.’

Iris shook her head. ‘No way. I’m sorry.’

‘What other options do you have?’

‘I’ll probably… I could just…’

Gladys’s expression grew more smug the more Iris faltered.

‘I will figure it out.’ She’d pick up some shifts at Mac’s or maybe Jeanie needed a new barista at the PS Café or maybe she could sell a kidney or something. Anything but spending her day with a small child. Kira had already promised to hire her again for the holiday season, so she just had to make it another eight months or so. Easy.

‘You’re being ridiculous. Did I mention it would be a live-in position?’

‘Live-in, like I wouldn’t have to pay rent?’

That smug smile grew. ‘Exactly. No rent. And the girl is in kindergarten. She won’t even be home for a big portion of the day. You could still teach your classes.’

The math was rapidly shifting. If Iris didn’t have to pay rentandshe could keep teaching her classesandget paid for this nanny gig she could maybe, finally, for once in her life get ahead on her finances. Maybe she could stop scrabbling by.

Damn that sneaky Gladys and her good ideas.

‘So, what would I actually have to do?’

‘Well, I imagine you’d be getting her ready for school and picking her up. You’d be in charge in the afternoons, before her dad gets home, but I’m sure you could manage it, Iris.’

‘Why are you pushing this so hard?’ This whole town was filled with pushers and busybodies, gossips and well-intentioned folk just dying to get into your business, but Gladys wasn’t usually the type to interfere. She had her own husband, two daughters, more grandchildren than Iris could count and this diner to run. She didn’t have time for other people’s nonsense.

The woman’s face softened. ‘They’re struggling and so are you. Why not help each other out?’

She was about to say that she was not struggling, but the look on Gladys’s face shut her right up. Of course she was struggling.

‘That little girl lost her mother and the man in there is doing the best he can?—’

Another crash cut off Gladys’s words but her intention to tug at Iris’s overdeveloped heart-strings worked anyway. What was she supposed to say? No, I won’t help the poor little girl who lost her mother? That would be terrible.

That, combined with the threat of all-night trumpet practice, pushed Iris into saying, ‘Okay, fine. I’ll do it.’

Gladys beamed. ‘Wonderful! I’ll tell Archer. Oh, here he is now.’ Gladys’s gaze slid to the kitchen door as it slammed open. It washim. The angriest man Iris had ever seen emerged from the commotion of the kitchen. If it was possible to scowl with your whole body, that was exactly what he was doing. Even his distinguished, white chef’s coat did nothing to soften the glower in his dark eyes. Dirty blond hair flopped over his forehead like he’d been tugging at it and it had finally given up. His brow was furrowed, and his mouth was a disapproving slash across his face. Tension radiated off him. It was the same guy who’d looked like he had wanted to murder her for coating him in kale smoothie. Not exactly the nurturing-dad type.

‘Archer!’ Gladys called, her voice filled with the good cheer of her success. ‘I found you the perfect nanny!’

Archer’s storm-cloud glare turned to Iris.

She gave her potential new boss a weak smile and a wave.

If he recognized her from the smoothie incident, he gave no indication. ‘Send your résumé,’ he barked and then turned and stormed back into the kitchen.

What the hell had she just gotten herself into?

ChapterThree

It was only quarter to six when Archer got in his car in the back parking lot. The diner opened early for breakfast and lunch but was closed by three. So even after cleaning up and making sure things were ready for the morning, he was heading home earlier than he had in years.

Just one more reminder of how upside down his life was since moving here to this weird town. He used to be headed into work at this time of day, not going home to another silent dinner with his kid.

Hiskid.

God, he still wasn’t used to thinking of her that way. Was that awful? Should he have fallen in love with her right away? He didn’t know. He didn’t know what was normal. Did people love their red-faced, screaming newborns right away? Maybe they did. Maybe he should have felt some biological pull toward Olive, but so far things had just been incredibly awkward.