Page 1 of The Strawberry Patch Pancake House
ChapterOne
Archer Baer had just become a father in the most unimaginable way possible. Not that he’d ever imagined it at all. What was a confirmed bachelor, a workaholic chef like himself going to do with a child? He didn’t even have houseplants because he didn’t have time to keep them alive. And he was fairly confident that children required more upkeep than a ficus.
But according to the lawyer who had called him a week ago and disrupted his entire existence, Archer had a daughter. A little girl he had never met or heard about in the five years that she had been alive. And that her mother, Cate, had been killed in a car accident and now he would never get to ask her why she hadn’t told him about the kid but had listed him as the father on the birth certificate.
It was all still so insane when he thought about it. Even now as he strode down Main Street in this bizarre little town where Cate had grown up, it didn’t really seem possible. Archer, adad? It didn’t make sense. He shook his head in frustration, trying in vain to wake up. He needed coffee. He hadn’t been awake this early in years. Working in kitchens across Paris had left him practically nocturnal. He rarely got home before 1am. How in God’s name was he supposed to take care of a little girl?
The lawyer had been convinced that his daughter would be better off with him than her elderly grandmother, but Archer was not at all certain about that.
Wouldn’t she be better off with someone who knew what the hell they were doing?
His thoughts wandered back to Cate. Despite having not spoken to her in five years, he couldn’t believe she was gone and now he couldn’t ask her any of his hundreds of questions.
Cate Carpenter. He’d met her while working in an upscale restaurant in Boston. She was front of house, he’d been a trainee chef. She was beautiful and funny. They’d only slept together a few times. He had been leaving anyway, heading to Europe to chase his insane dream of becoming a Michelin-star chef. Was that why she hadn’t told him about the baby? Over the years she could have told him a thousand times, so why hadn’t she?
And what would he have done? Given it all up? His dream. His perfect job. His quest to be the best. Would he have ended up in this little New England town sooner? Would he have married her?
Would he have resented her for derailing the plan he’d so meticulously set out for himself?
He swallowed the hot lump in his throat. None of that mattered now, because Cate was gone. Christ, Cate wasgone, and he was here to meet his daughter. It was all so damn tragic. And Archer couldn’t deal with any of it before he had had coffee.
This was the first time since he’d arrived that he’d ventured into the town center. It was … quaint, like something from an old postcard. Quaint, and incrediblysmall. The tree-lined street consisted of a handful of stores and ran all of about two city blocks. And that was it. The commercial area quickly became residential. It was nothing like the pulsing energy of Paris. His hopes of getting a decent cup of coffee were quickly fading.
It was cold today, especially this early in the damn morning. The chill of winter still hadn’t let go, and despite the fact that it was only the first week of March, each shop door stubbornly displayed a floral wreath or faux tulips in the window. Every single one had a sign advertising an Easter egg hunt coming soon. It was all a little too … cutesy for him. Was he really going to livehere? Here, inside this commercial for New England charm. He wasn’t sure he could stomach it. He preferred his life to be grittier than flower wreaths and egg hunts.
Store owners were beginning to open their doors, and more and more people filled the formerly quiet street. And, unless Archer was totally paranoid, he was pretty sure most of the people were looking at him.
Wonderful. Just what he needed. Nosy, small-town folks butting into his business, when all he really wanted to do was sort things out with his kid and then head back to Paris, to his kitchen, to his real life. This bizarre street, with its forced, spring décor and its curious townsfolk, was not for him. He already longed for the anonymity of a city.
He passed a pet store, ignoring the bunnies in the window, along with the shopkeeper’s friendly wave. He didn’t pause at the florist’s or the ice-cream parlor. There had to be a goddamn coffee shop somewhere in this place!
Ah, there! Up ahead he caught a glimpse of a sign: ‘The Pumpkin Spice Café’. He frowned. They better have something other than overly saccharine seasonal drinks. He crossed the street and took note of the pub next door to the café. That could come in handy while he was here.
The chalkboard sign in front of the coffee shop was advertising a new kale smoothie and lemon blueberry scones. The smell of fresh roasted coffee seeped from the shop and Archer could feel his body perking up. Thank God. He could not meet his daughter, hisdaughter,he still wasn’t used to that word, while he was half asleep.
He reached for the door handle, not really paying attention, his thoughts snagging on that word and that responsibility, and on whether or not he wanted a scone, when the door to the cafe swung open and nearly nailed him in the face.
‘What the—’ His words were drowned out by the woman’s shriek, as thoughhewas the one charging out of the café with no regard for other people.
‘Oh, no!’ she yelped and then it was too late. The tray of smoothies she’d been carrying was tumbling toward him and her body was crashing into him and her wild red hair was flying around her face and Archer was steadying her with his hands on her arms.
‘Oh, shit,’ she groaned, staring at the place between them where smoothie was currently dripping down the front of him, with little green splatters speckling the front of her.
Archer nearly growled. God damn it! He did not have time for this. He didn’t have time to go back to the absurd little house he was renting to change his clothes. He couldn’t be late to meet his … his … hisdaughter. He had not factored in time to be run over by a human cyclone carrying kale smoothies!
The growl must have escaped him because the woman’s eyes had widened in alarm, her cheeks flushing pink.
‘I’m really sorry,’ she said. ‘I was rushing because I’m running late and I wasn’t paying attention and?—’
‘It’s fine,’ he bit out, even though it was absolutely not fine. He was going to show up to the most important meeting of his life in a smoothie-soaked shirt. A smoothie-stained father was not the kind of father that instilled confidence. And he was desperately trying to gain some of his usual confidence back.
‘It’s really not fine. Here let me help you.’
It was then that Archer realized he was still holding the woman’s arms and standing far too close to her. He dropped his hands and took a step back, hitting the now closed door behind him.
‘I don’t need help,’ he said, his gaze flicking to the café counter and the long line waiting there. He probably wouldn’t even have time for coffee at all now. He would meet his daughter with a stained shirt and a caffeine headache. Perfect. Just perfect.
‘Here, let me just dab the worst of it off you.’
