Page 50 of Minnie

“I’m hungry.” Natty rubs his belly.

I grin on the inside. “Me too.”

I plug in my phone, turn it on, and spend at least five minutes trying to convince Natty to use the bathroom and wash his hands. Amber helps, and when we finally get back to the living room, Wes serves us heaping plates of stew.

“No onion or garlic in this stew, and only minimal salt,” he says, bringing out the pet-friendly stew in an egg dish for Tiptoe.

The mouse’s collar jingles as he races over, but he doesn’t seem bothered by it, so it’s the least of my problems.

Chase grabs two bowls, and heads for the door. “I’ll eat downstairs with Julian.” Which is probably as much a relief for Julian as it is for me.

Natty and I aren’t the best lunch guests as it is. Formula M only lets me take dainty bites, so I barely make a dent in my food, while half of Natty’s ends up on the floor. Eating with a three-year-old is a messy affair.

This time, though, Latte’s around to scarf it all up.

“More. More!” the pup begs, licking the floor clean.

“We should have called him Mop,” Wes says with a grin.

“Or Baby,” Amber chimes in. “You know, because he was crying all night.”

Latte wags his tail happily.

“Why were you crying all night, Latte?” I ask.

The puppy doesn’t reply. Stupid Formula M.

I try again. “You couldn’t sleep, Latte?”

Latte barks. “Dark.”

It all clicks. “Latte’s scared of the dark.” Probably because Julian and Chase put the poor pup in a gift box to surprise Amber. “Maybe you could get him a nightlight?”

Amber and Wes instantly agree and shower Latte with extra attention—and stew. When we’re done with lunch, Natty claps his hands. “Licious!”

“Simply divine,” I add. “Wes, darling, you truly have outdone yourself.”

Darling? Really, Formula M? Really? First I’m hitting on Julian, and now I’m calling Wes darling? Enough is enough!

But Amber’s eyes twinkle, and I’m glad she’s amused, not annoyed. And she doesn’t even seem to mind that I compliment the way Julian’s jeans hug his ass when she and I get downstairs.

“You do look hot, Juli,” she teases as the door above the cafe jingles, signaling the arrival of a customer.

I look up, and my eyes grow wide. A middle-aged man who has seen a few too many office days walks into the cafe. He’s got a receding hairline, beer belly, and silver-rimmed round glasses. There are bags under his eyes and his suit and briefcase are worn out. He looks like he needs a winning lottery ticket almost as much as me.

But what catches my attention is the pink fiery magic running from his chest to mine.

“Oh, man…” Julian shakes his head as he gapes at the mating bond. Which means that I’ve got five minutes, tops, before Amber, Chase and Wes all know I have a fated mate who looks like an accountant on the verge of burnout.

If Amber is confused by her mate’s reaction, she doesn’t show it. “Welcome to Jewels Cafe. Can I get you something to drink?”

“Actually, he forgot his wallet,” I say, sounding bored. “Or was it your phone?”

His eyes widen. “You recognize me?”

I roll my eyes. “Snakes and a cardigan don’t fool me.”

He nods, looking resigned—a look that, given the body he’s currently in, he pulls off well. “Minnie, we need to talk.”