Page 68 of The Strawberry Patch Pancake House

She took another sip of wine to fortify herself.

‘Archer…’

‘Yeah?’ He looked up from his wine and he looked exhausted. He’d stepped up today but he was worried, too.

‘I … uh…’

Maybe this was actually a terrible time to quit. It would be pretty shitty to abandon him now, wouldn’t it? He’d have to scramble to find new care for Olive in the midst of her being sick.

Maybe she could tamp down those tender feelings for a few more weeks.

‘I’m just sorry I had to call you to come home. Feels like I really dropped the ball.’

‘Iris, I know you don’t have a lot of experience with kids.’

‘I … well…’

He held up a hand to stop her. ‘And I hired you, anyway. You’ve been exactly what Olive needs. She’s happier. Shetalksto me,’ he said with a little laugh. ‘Did you see her holding my hand when she dozed off today?’

His face transformed as he talked about her. He wasn’t exhausted anymore. He was practically glowing.

Damn it, there was that tender thing again.

‘I did see it. You did a great job with her today.’

‘Thanks.’ His smile deepened. ‘I was totally just winging it. But I couldn’t have done it without you.’

Iris scoffed. ‘You had your dad, the pediatrician, and WebMD. I think you would have been fine without me.’ In fact, she’d done nothing today but panic and immediately call for back-up.

‘Fine.’ He shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t havewantedto do it without you.’

Oh, damn, damn, damn. Danger, Iris!

She smiled despite herself, and that tender spot grew.

‘I’m tired of pancakes,’ he said. ‘I thought I’d make us some real food tonight.’

‘Real food sounds good.’ She sat back and watched as he cooked, marveling at his hands and the deftness of his movements. She let him hypnotize her as he chopped garlic and fresh parsley. The kitchen soon smelled amazing as the garlic hit the hot olive oil in the pan.

‘What are you making?’ she asked over the sizzling sound filling the kitchen.

‘Aglio e olio,’ he responded with a panty-melting Italian accent.Thatcertainly didn’t help anything.

‘You going to translate that for me or just leave me guessing?’

‘It’s pasta with olive oil and garlic. It’s really simple, actually.’

‘Everything just sounds better in Italian.’ Iris sighed wistfully. She’d never had the money to travel, but she had a list of places she’d love to visit someday. Italy ranked in the top five.

He smiled and his dimple deepened. ‘Agreed.’

The pasta water boiled and he dumped in a handful of spaghetti and a large pinch of salt.

‘I thought you exclusively cooked French food?’

‘The last restaurant I worked in was French. But I’ve worked in a lot of places. I spent a year in Italy.’

‘That must have been amazing.’