Page 76 of The Strawberry Patch Pancake House

How could he possibly say no?

Not to mention he’d be a fool to pass up the chance to see Iris in a bathing suit again.

ChapterTwenty-Five

‘What’s on the pancake menu tonight, chef?’ Iris asked, wandering out into the kitchen after tucking Olive into bed, and reading her extra stories, and catching and releasing the spider that was living in the corner of her bedroom, and bringing her fresh water. It was a whole thing. Sometimes Olive insisted Iris do it and sometimes she demanded Archer do it and sometimes she liked them to do it together in a way that was uncomfortably domestic for Iris. They’d started the bedtime procedure over an hour ago and Iris was only mildly convinced that Olive was going to stay put.

Archer was in his usual position behind the kitchen island in his usual after-work outfit of a fitted T and gray sweatpants that made Iris absolutely feral, but instead of cooking he was reading over his notes from the town meeting two weeks ago.

‘Just trying to figure out what to try next.’ He frowned. ‘Although half of these ideas are just new things people want to see on the menu.’ He looked up at her as she slid onto her stool. ‘Give it to me straight. Is this whole town just fucking with me? Like is there even an original recipe for these pancakes, or is this all some kind of joke to chase me out of town?’

Iris shrugged. ‘It’s hard to tell with this crowd. Probably a bit of both.’

His frown deepened.

‘Don’t get me wrong!’ Iris continued. ‘There’s definitely a much-beloved pancake recipe out there somewhere, but there is also probably a good amount of fucking with you going on,’ she added with a smile.

‘Wonderful,’ he grumbled.

‘You’re grouchy tonight.’ She wondered if the increasing amount of sexual frustration building up in her was also the reason for his grouchiness. The way he looked at her, she thought maybe she was right. His eyes were dark and a slight flush had worked its way up his cheeks. His gaze kept wandering to where her oversized T-shirt had slipped off her shoulder.

She remembered what he’d said about that. About wanting to graze his teeth over the skin there. And God, did she want him to do that.

Realistically, if she had met Archer in some other circumstance, she was certain they would have slept together and moved on by now. They were fighting their natures by avoiding the inevitable this whole time, and honestly, she wasn’t sure she could do it anymore.

Maybe she’d been blowing this whole thing way out of proportion in her mind. They didn’thaveto become some official couple and parade their relationship in front of the whole town and the freaking custody lawyer. What happened in this kitchen, stayed in this kitchen.

No one had to know.

Especially not Olive.

Fooling around with Archer did not have to be that serious.

She hopped off her stool and came to his side of the island, which, of course, was a terrible idea but Iris was no longer thinking with her brain. She was thinking with her lady parts. Her very keyed-up lady parts, who demanded to be closer to him.

‘I’m going to be your sous chef,’ she said with a smirk. ‘Teach me what to do.’

He stared down at her like he was fully aware of what she was doing, and also fully aware that it was a bad idea. But he didn’t tell her no.

‘You want me to teach you to make pancakes?’ he asked, his body close to hers, warm and solid. He always showered right after work, and he smelled like soap and the laundry detergent he used that made his shirts so soft. She was probably going to keep the one she slept in when they were drunk.

‘Yes, chef,’ she said, and his eyes sparked in delight.

‘Okay, Iris. I’ll teach you.’

Neither of them moved. They stood face to face just waiting to see who would break first. They were both sober tonight. Anything that happened now would be because they both chose it. Archer reached out and tucked a stray hair behind her ear, his knuckles brushing against her cheek and Iris’s eyes fluttered closed.

Thank God.

‘This hair makes me crazy,’ he said.

‘Because it’s a health-code violation to have it down while I’m cooking?’ she asked, opening her eyes and finding Archer staring at her hungrily.

He shook his head. ‘No, Iris. That’s not why.’

‘Then why?’ Her voice was just a breath.

He shook his head again like he wasn’t going to answer, but instead he squeezed his eyes shut and said, ‘Because I want to see it draped across my pillow; I want it wrapped around my fist. Christ, Iris. I want you so bad and I don’t know what to do about it anymore.’