Page 46 of The Strawberry Patch Pancake House
His frown had only intensified with her protests.
‘Look, Archer. It wasn’t all you.’ She felt the flush rise to her cheeks. She hadn’t ever planned to meet this head-on, but here she was. ‘I was flirting with you, too. It was mutual.’
A muscle twitched in his jaw like he was grinding his back teeth.
‘But you were right,’ she went on. ‘We need to keep this professional. Which I fully intend to do. From now on. Okay?’ She really didn’t want to get fired. Not now. Not when things were going well with Olive and she had some extra cash, and she really didn’t want to find a new place to live.
He relaxed slightly, his gaze still holding her in its grasp. Finally, he relented. ‘Okay, fine.’
Iris blew out a sigh of relief. ‘Great.’
‘But, Iris…’
‘Yeah?’
‘You need to ask me before redecorating my house.’
‘Right. Sorry.’
He softened a little more, his brow smoothing out. ‘But I am glad you’re making Olive’s room more homey for her.’
Iris smiled. ‘You're welcome.’
He nodded. ‘Right. Okay, I’m going to shower before dinner, but you’re welcome to stay.’
Her smile grew. ‘What are you making?’
‘Nothing fancy tonight. Salad Nicoise with fresh sourdough.’
‘Not fancy? Sir, before I moved in I ate cereal for dinner five out of seven days a week.’
He looked truly horrified by that statement and Iris couldn’t help but laugh.
‘Dinner’s at seven.’ He stalked off to the bathroom and Iris definitely didn’t imagine him stripping down for the shower. She didn’t have time for that. She had a bedroom to paint.
‘You didn’t finish while I was gone?’ she yelled in mock dismay as she came back into Olive’s room. ‘What did I even hire you for?’
Olive laughed. ‘I can’t reach the top!’
‘Oh, right. You’re short.’ Iris frowned at her and Olive giggled some more. ‘I forgot.’
‘I’m a kid!’
‘That explains a lot.’ She ruffled Olive’s hair. ‘Come on, let’s finish up before dinner. Your dad’s making something good.’
Olive wrinkled her nose. ‘Good for you or good for me?’
‘You can’t survive on Pop-Tarts alone, kid. Trust me. I’ve tried.’
‘Hmph.’
Olive wasn’t painting anymore. In fact, she wasn’t even standing anymore.
‘You’re getting paint in your hair,’ Iris said.
‘I don’t care.’
Iris stepped over her prone body. ‘Suit yourself.’
