“This asshole is taking these back.” Asher picks up my plate and carries it over to the table.

“Hey!”

“If you’re going to slander me over the phone, you don’t deserve my pancakes.”

I don’t like that logic even if it seems perfectly fair.

“Asher,” I follow him across the kitchen. I’m a puppy begging for scraps. “Don’t be mean.”

“Says the girl who just called me an asshole.”

“I was trying to sound convincing.”

“Did it work?”

“Of course not.”

I’m all pouty lips and fluttering eyelashes. He won’t be able to resist me. Looking adorable as hell. Standing in his kitchen. In only his t-shirt and my underwear.

“You’re a menace.”

He puts my plate down on the table opposite of his. I grin and bounce up onto the tips of my toes to kiss his cheek.

Asher uses real maple syrup and not the chemically enhanced kind I buy at the grocery store. It’s organic and purely Canadian. I wouldn’t expect anything less from the man who once made me walk seven blocks back to a Greek restaurant because they put feta on his salad.

“What did Bree want?”

“Other than to accuse me of having a less-than-professional relationship with you?”

“Well, you are sitting in my kitchen in only your underwear and my t-shirt. That’s not exactly business casual.”

“Whose side are you on?”

“There aren’t any sides. I’m merely stating that our relationship isn’t exactly as professional as it should be. You’ve slept in my bed. You’ve kissed me. You’ve made countless sexual advances.”

I glare at him. “My sincerest apologies, Mr. McGowan. It will never happen again. Will you excuse me while I put pants on?”

“No, I will not, Ms. Langley,” he says. “Eat your pancakes.”

“But this is very unprofessional,” I say. “My boss should not be making me pancakes in questionably sized boxer briefs.”

“As my employee, you should not be questioning my authority.”

“Oh, I’ll question your authority.”

We both choke out a laugh and we’re red-faced and out of breath. Laughing with Asher over pancakes on a snow day from work. I didn’t realize this was on my Christmas list.

“What did Bree really want?”

“She can’t get in contact with Melodie Tran’s manager and Celebrity!Now! wants the statement on her engagement by noon.”

“Of course they do.”

“Tabloids don’t stop for snow.” I pull the fork from my mouth and smile.

We finish breakfast in silence. I’m okay with it. Sometimes saying nothing says enough. It’s comfortable. Normal. Like we do this every day.

“Alright,” Asher finally says. “You start writing the release. I’ll do the dishes.”

“No.”

He frowns. “Excuse me?”

“I’ll do the dishes,” I say. “You write the release.”

“Who’s the boss here, Ms. Langley?”

I lean over the table to grab his plate. “Me.”