Page 5 of An Espresso Machine’s Guide to Love & Mischief

“You think I was born yesterday?” Mom huffs.

“It’s true. You don’t have to believe me. But I’m happy as a ChorePossum.”

“You were a chore possum when you lived under my roof—and you couldn’t do any of your chores right. I don’t see how anyone would actually pay you money to forget to take out the garbage and put off doing laundry.”

I spot a red-haired woman by the luggage claim eyeing a large box that’s sliding past her on the baggage carousel. Fuck, I am late. I hope she hasn’t been waiting for long.

“You have so much potential,” Mom cries. “Why are you wasting it?”

I dodge around other travelers as I dash toward Nephrite. I try to say, “I’m not wasting my life” to Mom and “hello, I’m your ChorePossum” to Nephrite, but the two lines muddle up in my brain. “Hello, I’m wasted,” I say to Nephrite, my breath coming out fast and short.

She blinks at me. “Excuse me?”

“You’re what?” Mom gasps. “In the middle of the day? This is what you’re doing while you’re working?”

I cringe. Great, now I won’t get a tip and Mom thinks even less of me than she already does.

“Horse manure,” the pony shifter says. “Are you too drunk to help me get that box on this cart?”

“I have to go,” I tell Mom and hang up on her, even though I’ll never hear the end of it.

“Go? But I need your help,” Nephrite says.

“Shit, no, sorry! I’m not drunk, and I wasn’t talking to you. I was on the phone.” I gesture at the cell phone before jamming it into my pocket. “I’m here to help.” I adjust my t-shirt and pull my shoulders back to look more professional. “Hello, I’m Fletcher, your ChorePossum for the day. How can I help you?”

She narrows her green eyes at me. “Are you sure you’re not drunk? We can’t risk dropping Diva. That’s the espresso machine.”

“Diva it is.” It’s not that weird that she named it. I call my PlayStation “Lord Dopa, Destroyer of Chronos,” after all. “I’m sober as a skunk! Well, at least if that skunk is Ben. He’s my roommate, and he doesn’t drink. Anyway, is this your package?” I don’t wait for her to answer and lean over the carousel to haul up the large box. It’s the only luggage here big enough to fit an espresso machine.

Fuck, no wonder she needed help, this thing weighs at least as much as I do. Nephrite must really love her coffee to travel with a huge espresso machine. I lower it onto her luggage cart.

“We have to take her out of the box,” Nephrite says.

I fish my keys from my jeans pocket and use them to slice through the tape. As I grip one end of the cardboard and rip it downward, Nephrite does the same on her side. The cardboard tears away to reveal a fancy red espresso machine.

Nephrite digs the power cord out along with a battery pack the size of a car battery. She plugs it in. Is she planning on making coffee here in the airport? I mean, I wouldn’t mind another cup, especially if it’s free.

The machine powers on, and my heart skips a beat. Then it starts pounding double-time. My palms get sweaty. I struggle to catch my breath. And I have no idea why the fuck I’m reacting this way to an espresso machine. All I know is I want her, and I want her bad. How, I do not know.

Chapter 3

Diva

My bestie Nephrite’s voice echoes around me as I power on. “Diva? Diva? Are you there?”

“Neph?” The last thing I remember is struggling to draw electricity as those bastards at the airport unplugged me from my battery. “I’m alive!”

“Thank the goddess!” She places a hand on my metal side, next to one of my knobs.

“They put me in a box,” I wail. “I hate being a ghost trapped in a machine.”

“I’m so sorry, Diva. I wish there had been some other way to get you to Toronto. Was it awful? How are you feeling now?”

“I’m…” I trail off when I notice the man standing beside her. “Wow.”

Neph raises an eyebrow. “Wow?”

“I mean, great. I’m great.” Especially when the man is hotter than all four of Neph’s mates combined—and she’s got herself some hunks. Weird hunks—one is literally a talking dick—but hunks nonetheless.