Page 15 of An Espresso Machine’s Guide to Love & Mischief

I’d grimace if I could. I settle on turning my nozzles instead. The one time I’m wrong about a random weirdo, she’s a lost old lady.

“You don’t remember walking here?” Fletcher asks.

“No.” The woman’s voice is shrill with worry. “I was heading toward the Metro Toronto Convention Center and now I’m…” She looks around, brows furrowed.

“You’re at Union Station,” he tells her.

“I didn’t mean to come here.” She sounds dazed. “Why am I here?”

Neph and I both look at Fletcher. The ChorePossum is a local, so if anyone would know, it’s him.

“I’m not sure, ma’am. Is there someone I can call to come get you?”

“My daughter…” the woman hesitates. “But I don’t want to worry her. I know how to get where I’m going. Thank you for checking on me.”

She turns away and heads back the way she came.

“That wasn’t normal, right?” I ask.

“Maybe it’s a city thing?” Neph suggests. “I’d be so lost without Fletcher.”

I feel an irrational wave of jealousy. Neph has four mates. Well, three considering one of them is the other’s dick—long story. But, either way, she wouldn’t have set her sights on my—I stop the direction my thoughts are heading in. Fletcher isn’t my anything, and he never will be. Not even when I get that jetpack.

Maybe once I can afford it, I can look into artificial lips? I shove the thought away. Who would want to make out with a machine?

“People don’t usually get lost on routes they travel often. Unless it’s in the PATH. Everyone gets lost in the PATH.” Fletcher says. “Could be memory loss from old age, though. One of my regular chores is to read a chapter a week to seniors at a nursing home—they’re really short-staffed right now—and there’s one man who keeps asking who I am and why I’m starting the book in the middle.”

“I guess memory loss would explain it…” I say. But something about the situation doesn’t sit right with me.

Like that time a merchant in Bangkok tried to pass off counterfeit bags as designer, and I knew right away something was off. My friend didn’t believe me and bought one, but then her bag fell apart and she dropped her phone into a squat toilet while she was peeing.

Fletcher and Neph didn’t see how intently that old woman was watching us as she followed us all the way here. They didn’t notice the man in the suit, either. My gut tells me something’s wrong—I just don’t know what. Or why anyone would want to follow us.

“I guess we should go?” I finally say.

“Aye, aye, miss,” Fletcher says and winks.

He really shouldn’t do that, because I almost steam him.

Neph and Fletcher set off downstairs. We reach the platform, and as we wait for the subway to arrive, I spot something small moving along the tracks. Something gray and fluffy, with a long naked tail and adorable beady little eyes. And a wad of cash strapped to his back—way to go, little guy!

He’s such a handsome little rat, I think. Look at his sexy bare tail and his one chewed ear. That must mean he’s a strong fighter.

I want to pet him. I want to hold him close. I want to lick him, and kiss him and…

What the fuck, Diva? It’s a tunnel rat!

He seems to feel my gaze on him,, because he stops scurrying and stands up on his hind legs to stare back at me. My nozzles feel tingly, and I spin them wildly so I don’t blow any steam. Last thing I need is for Fletcher and Neph to drop me onto the dirty floor—or for them to stumble off the platform and fall on the tracks.

Tracks where that rat is. He could reach for me with his sexy little hands and turn all my dials. He could nibble on my nozzles while Fletcher sticks his tongue inside my water reservoir.

“Diva!” Neph gasps.

I stop the spray of steam shooting out of my nozzle and onto the train tracks. “Sorry, sorry. I saw a rat!”

“Someone wants a coffee,” Neph says cheerily. “That’s so cute!”

I feel a wave of jealousy for a second before it dawns on me that Neph definitely means ‘cute’ in a pet sort of way and not in an ‘I’m going to claim that rat as my mate’ way.