“The intern had just sent a company-wide email that said ‘Go tit!’ instead of ‘Got it,’” she said. “You can’t leave me waiting to find out what happened next.”

The double dimpler was back, and he continued the story, adding in little details about the people involved that made her giggle as he demolished the spanakopita like a man who’d missed breakfast and lunch, which by the sound of what his day had been like, he had. Without questioning, she got up and grabbed the two slices of baklava for dessert and put them both in front of Nash—they were medicinal at this point.

“Not only to everyone in the company but to the entire leadership team for the boutiques in South Korea.” He ate the last bite of the savory spinach pie and let out a happy groan. “It was a giant fucking mess, but I fixed it.” He shot her a cocky grin and started in on the baklava. “That’s what I do.” He let out a blissed-out sigh the second the honey pastry hit his tongue. “God, this is delicious.”

“And what about the intern?” she asked. “Did you fire him?”

“Nah.” He shook his head. “I worked with him on making a plan so this wouldn’t happen again and told him I’d see him back in the office after the new year.”

“You didn’t even write him up?”

“I could have, but the guy has a lot of talent and drive. He was overeager, that’s all. It happens,” he said with a shrug, as if 99 percent of the people in his position at Beckett Cosmetics wouldn’t have rained hellfire down on the intern without a second thought. “The important thing is that next time he’s going to reach out to his supervisors before clicking submit on the cancellation form. He’ll learn from this mistake, and hopefully, he’ll ask for help before making another one.”

“You’re nicer than a lot of people,” she said, meaning every word of it.

Sure, he still couldn’t help but mansplain his way into trouble, but like the intern, he was trying. Nash Beckett was a pain in the ass, but he was a really good guy. The kind of guy she wanted for the heroines in her books—not perfect but solid. Who would have thought she’d finally find someone like that when the relationship was about as real as the fictional ones she wrote about?

“But,” he said, interrupting the bittersweet turn of her thoughts, “not nicer than the woman who decides to organize a Christmas party for her whole building.”

“You mean a glutton for punishment who now has serious regrets?” So, so many regrets. The kind that had her gut twisted up in knots.

He let out a protective, rumbly growl. “I take it Suzanne and your shitbag uncle RSVP’d a yes?”