Page 89 of The Strawberry Patch Pancake House
Iris huffed a laugh. ‘We don’t want her thinking I’m going to be her new mom just because me and you are…’
Her new mom.
‘Right, yeah, that would be too much because we’re just…’
The playful expression she’d worn in bed this morning was gone.
‘Archer.’
‘Don’t say it, Iris.’
‘You know we shouldn’t do this.’
‘Do what?! We haven’t done anything yet!’
‘I tried to be honest with you. I told you…’
He was around the island before she could finish, planting himself between her splayed knees. ‘You told me and I heard you. Just physical. I know. And we won’t tell Olive. It’s fine, Iris.’ She was right of course. Olive couldn’t know about this, and neither could anyone else. Would Kaori and the custody court allow him to keep his daughter if he was caught fooling around with the nanny? Would they question the environment he was keeping her in? He honestly didn’t know but he couldn’t risk it. Not now. Not when he knew he wanted to keep Olive forever.
She frowned. ‘I don’t want to hurt you.’
He forced a laugh. ‘You’re not going to hurt me. I know exactly what this is, okay? Olive is the one we need to protect. You were right. We won’t tell her, and life will go on as usual.’
‘With what, the occasional booty call?’
The smirk on his face was fake but maybe Iris wouldn’t notice. ‘It’s a great commute for a booty call. Right across the hallway. Can’t beat it.’
Iris was still studying him so he forced the smile wider. ‘It’s the perfect plan.’
She gave a little sigh, and he took the opportunity to kiss her, soft and sweet until her body relaxed into his.
‘Okay, as long as you’re fine with it.’
‘Totally fine,’ he lied, returning to his place on the other side of the island. ‘Now, mushrooms or peppers in your omelet?’
‘Both.’
‘You got it.’
Mushrooms, peppers, his whole damn heart. She could have all of it.
ChapterTwenty-Nine
It had been nearly a week since they’d had the SEX. It was always in big, bold letters in Iris’s mind whenever she thought about it. The SEX had been incredible, five stars, would recommend, but they hadn’t done it since. And she wasn’t sure why. And she wasn’t sure if she wanted to or not. Or if Archer wanted to. Or if he had lied about the whole being-fine-with-having-a-purely-physical-relationship thing. Or if she wanted things to be purely physical.
Or if she was completely losing her mind!
So, she’d been avoiding him as much as humanly possible while living in his house. Which was pretty damn hard. On Monday, she ran headfirst into his naked chest as he emerged from the bathroom, right as she was hurrying down the hallway to her room. He’d grabbed her arms to steady her and she’d just stood there, frozen like a deer caught in the headlights.
‘Good morning, Iris,’ he’d rumbled, his voice all raspy from sleep and Iris had stuttered some excuse about having to check on Olive, an obvious lie since Olive was still sound asleep, before running away.
On Tuesday, she’d managed to avoid him until he got home from work and then she was subjected to him in all his chef-coated, post-work, messy-haired glory. He’d been polite, asked her how their day had gone and that was it. He hadn’t pushed anything. Hadn’t asked for anything. She’d almost wished he had, wished he would just decide for her.
Wednesday was a real nightmare. She’d accidently peeked into Olive’s room and found Archer curled up beside his daughter in bed, reading her favorite bedtime story with all the silly voices and everything. That had nearly broken her, the two of them side by side, their heads tipped together. It was too much. She was so happy for him, for them, for how far they’d come. Archer and Olive were a family now. And why did that hurt? Why did she want to picture herself there with them? Her brain felt completely scrambled, this new version of what her life could be playing on a loop in her head.
She’d managed to run out of the house on Thursday as soon as Archer had returned home and hidden out at Kira’s house until past Olive’s bedtime. Although it didn’t escape her notice that she was disappointed to find the kitchen empty when she got home. She wanted to see him there, mixing up a new batch of pancakes. She wanted to sit and tease him. She wanted to discuss Olive’s latest therapy session and all the progress she’d made.
She wanted to be a part of his life. A real part. Not a hired-help part or a booty-call part. It was all very concerning.
