Page 65 of An Espresso Machine’s Guide to Love & Mischief

“No!” I cry and push the cart faster. “I need it! If I leave it behind, I won’t have anything to hop back into.”

“It’s Janet. I need backup,” the tall, skinny man shouts from across the room.

Did Janet hop bodies, or are there multiple Janets here like in The Good Place? Seriously, this body hopping thing is confusing.

“McKay’s helping the raccoon shifter escape,” Janet cries.

No, I’m not, McKay shouts in my head. Damn it, Janet!

“They’re taking the espresso machine!” she shouts.

I slam the cart into the door that leads outside and try to push it through. McKay’s muscles strain, but they’re no match for the heavy cart.

Fuck, you’re weak, I shout at her.

Then leave! she shouts back. Hop into the raccoon.

Then I won’t have anyone to help me. Not going to happen, mmm ’kay? I push harder.

I don’t know how she expects me to body hop under pressure. I wanted to try after Asgard tackled me, but it’s not like I can reach a meditative state when my heart is racing and my adrenaline is through the roof.

“Move. I got this,” Asgard snaps and practically shoves me aside. His skin still feels warm and comforting against mine—or I guess, McKay’s.

He shoves the cart through the door and wheels it over the lawn and toward the docks at breakneck speed. I race after him.

“You’re making a mistake, McKay,” Janet shouts, but she doesn’t give chase.

“Tell Trevor he’s an asshole,” I shout back.

My legs lock and I fall face first into the grass. “Fuck!”

Do you know how much trouble I’ll be in? McKay cries. They’ll lock me up for this, if they don’t kill me first.

Why would they lock up a dead body? I ask her as I try to climb to my feet. McKay locks our knees. They’re body borrowers. Won’t they understand it’s not your fault?

Only if they believe me! Nobody’s ever hopped out of an object before.

I manage to bend one knee and get my foot on the ground, but the other stays very much under McKay’s control. Work with me here. If we don’t get away now, they’ll shoot first and ask questions later.

Shit, McKay says as she realizes I’m right. Stop talking and run.

Our knee unlocks, and I push her sneakered feet against the grass as fast as they will go.

Despite her weak core, her body can really move—until I trip over my own feet—or I guess her feet—and go flying face first into the grass.

Get up, McKay shouts.

I jump to my feet and run after Asgard as he pushes the cart onto the dock and toward the nearest yacht. It’s nowhere near as fancy as what I’m used to, but it’ll do.

I unhook the line securing the yacht to the dock before rushing up its gangway and into the cockpit.

I grab the controls. There’s a chair in front of the wheel, but I’ve always felt more in control of a yacht while standing.

I pause to glance back toward the yacht club and spot Janet standing in the dining room doorway.

“You better let me drive,” Asgard says.

“First of all, you don’t drive a yacht. You pilot a yacht,” I tell him. “And second, I can pilot one of these in my sleep.”