Page 48 of The Strawberry Patch Pancake House
‘He was …’ Iris didn’t really know what Archer wanted Olive to think about why he hadn’t been with her from the start.
‘You were a surprise,’ he said, startling them both.
Olive sat up. ‘A surprise?’
‘Yeah, your mom was doing such a great job that you didn’t need a dad right away. But then when your mom … uh…’ He glanced at Iris, panic clear on his face, like he wished he hadn’t waded into this conversation.
‘Your mom knew your dad would take such good care of you when she was gone,’ Iris jumped in.
Olive frowned.
‘You were a great surprise, Olive,’ he said, his voice rough. ‘The best one, really.’
Iris didn’t know how much of that he meant, but he was definitely selling it.
Olive brightened. ‘I was?’
‘Yep.’
‘And what about Iris?’ she asked, turning her attention back to Iris. ‘Did I surprise you, too?’
‘Big time.’
‘Really?’ Olive was clearly thrilled to be surprising people left and right.
‘Sure. I didn’t expect to actually like you.’
‘Iris, jeez,’ Archer huffed but Olive just threw her head back and laughed.
‘I thought you’d be terrible, actually,’ Iris went on. ‘I thought you’d be sticky and weird.’
‘I’m not weird!’
‘Oh, you definitely are, but so am I, so I like it.’
Olive was up now, hopping from foot to foot. ‘I surprised everyone.’
‘You sure did,’ Archer said with a grin, that dimple popping in his cheek. Iris looked away.
‘All right, kid, quit stalling. We need to finish the job.’
‘I’ll help,’ Archer said.
‘You just showered.’
‘Not everyone paints themselves when they paint a room,’ he said with a teasing smirk, his eyes roving over her paint splattered body.
Iris huffed. ‘Then they aren’t having nearly enough fun.’ She stuck her tongue out at him and he grinned.
And that conversation they’d just had in the kitchen felt like it was a million years ago and not at all relevant anymore.
ChapterNineteen
Somehow, in between haunting his dreams and painting his daughter’s room, Iris had convinced Archer to attend a Dream Harbor town meeting. He didn’t believe it would help, but he’d been the head chef at the diner for three weeks now, and he was still getting complaints about the pancakes. And even though some of his other menu options, like the veggie sandwich and the French onion soup, had taken off, he couldn’t get what Iris had said out of his head. The people came to the diner for comfort. Not elevated comfort food, just the comfort of a familiar place with familiar food. And maybe that was something worth giving them.
‘No, no, no. We can’t sit there.’ Iris tugged on his arm and led him away from where he was about to take a seat.
‘Why not?’
