Page 9 of An Espresso Machine’s Guide to Love & Mischief

“You must come from a very high-end cafe to be so… shiny,” McHotterson pauses briefly, almost like he had planned to use a different word.

Jewels Cafe, high end? I snort, and a little trickle of water leaks from a nozzle like pee. Shit! Did anyone see that?

If Neph did, she ignores it. “We’re the best cafe in our town!”

“We’re the only cafe in our town.” I may love Neph, but I do not love the cafe prison I’ve been stuck in for the past year. It doesn’t even use real silver cutlery! The jewels on the cups are stickers, not real gems! Even semi-precious stones would be better than stickers.

“We’re so amazing, no one else would dare open a rival cafe,” Neph says.

“I’d love to check it out some time,” Sexy Sexanovich, MD, says. “Maybe I’ll visit. Small towns seem so… I don’t know. Different?”

I hold back a snort-squirt so I don’t wet him again. “Boring, you mean? I can’t wait until we get downtown and hit all the bars and clubs. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve dined at a Michelin Star?”

“You can eat?” Spicy O’Spice asks.

“No… But a girl can dream. And I can hit up a party or two while I’m at it.”

“I hate to break it to you,” he says, “but the area we’re heading to isn’t known for its parties. The address you gave me is in the Financial District, mostly suits and,” he shudders, “office workers. Everything closes by six.”

“Ohh, do you think we’ll get to see some designer clothes?” I say. I haven’t been within steaming distance of a good Armani since waking up in this body. If it can even be called a body.

“Umm….” Seductive Seductiveman runs a hand through his hair. I’d like to run a hand through his… everything. Maybe starting with his cock—which happens to be at eye level, and just within steaming distance—not that he would enjoy it. Too bad I don’t have hands. “There are some expensive stores in the area.”

Yes! Things are already looking up… mmm… I wonder if I can get his cock up? I eye his bulge as he walks alongside me. It doesn’t move. Of course it doesn’t; nobody gets hard from looking at a coffee machine, and his cock isn’t like Neph’s mate, August, the possessed penis. I’m assuming. It’s hard to tell if a cock is housing a ghost from outside a guy’s pants. I’d need to get closer to investigate.

If I had lips, I’d lick them. I settle for twisting some knobs instead.

When we reach the train station attached to the airport, Hunky Hunkosky picks me up in his bulging arms. His hard, muscular chest presses against my side. It sends electricity shooting through every wire and makes me feel alive for the first time since I died.

“Holy shit,” I say.

His jaw drops open and he looks around. “What? Where?”

“Nothing!” I say quickly. “Just… ummm… I like your shirt. It’s very soft.” I’m not sure if it’s soft or not, because I don’t have skin. My metal casing can feel, but it’s not sensitive enough to tell fabric apart, which doesn’t bode well for shopping.

“Thanks,” he says.

I snuggle against his chest—well, not really. I can only move my nozzles, and they’re not facing him, but I still feel like I’m cuddling against him.

I’m also starting to run out of sexy nicknames for Sensual McDude, PhD. “I didn’t catch your name,” I say as he carries me toward the train.

“Fletcher.”

“Fletcher,” I repeat, tasting the name on my… not mouth. Brain, I guess. Though I don’t have that either. Soul? “I’m Diva.”

“That’s a pretty name,” he says.

He almost sounds like he’s flirting.

“I like your name, too,” I flirt back. “It’s nice and strong… like your arms.” I wish I could snuggle closer against him.

“Thanks.”

Is it just me, or is he blushing?

I let out a puff of steam. I expect Fletcher to frown—or curse—but he smiles. His lips curve up, and my gaze drifts to his mouth. His eyes sparkle, and I can’t look away.

“Do you want to…” I trail off.