“Didn’t even make it through the appetizers,” I said, brightly enough that Dammit stirred. “To be fair, the second one was kind of my fault. I got into an argument with a pigeon in front of the restaurant. It was basically over after that.” Though my date had only heard my half of the argument, he’d been embarrassed by the whole thing. I couldn’t entirely blame him, but this was why I had “animal mage” on my FuCupid profile.

“Besides, a walk of shame implies that there is shame involved. Van doesn’t have any.” I handed his cup back to Van. “And stop calling me little. I’m perfectly proportioned. The rest of humanity is just freakishly tall.”

“I have nothing to be ashamed of,” Van said, hitting the grinders again, this time turning on both the regular espresso and the decaf. “Sex is a perfectly natural act.”

“Birds do it. Bees do it. Even monkeys in the trees do it—trust me, I wrote a paper on it.” And I got an A on that paper, thank you very much.

Trick ignored me, instead focusing on Van. “Surely that comment didn’t deserve decaf treatment?” Trick asked in only somewhat mock-horror. “Any sex shaming was unintentional. You know that.”

Van shook her head. “No, it’s a split shot. You get mean somewhere after the third shot, so I’ve decided this is a good compromise. I do this out of love, not punishment.”

“I can go elsewhere,” Trick huffed, and we all knew he was bluffing. Trick liked Van’s coffee and wouldn’t play espresso roulette with another barista.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Van said, placing Trick’s cup on the pick-up counter for him so she could make my coffee. I never ordered and Van never asked, but she somehow always knew what to make me. It wasn’t magic—Van just knew me well and was an excellent barista.

“He wouldn’t,” I confirmed, watching Trick march glumly up to take his coffee. He sighed, but also leaned over the counter to kiss Van on the cheek. “But if he did, that’s fine. Then he would be mean somewhere else and not your problem.”

Trick drank his espresso without protest, waiting at the counter until mine was done so he could fetch it for me. When he handed me my cup I took a grateful sip—butterscotch latte. I guess Van thought I needed the sweetening today, which I kind of did.

I’m glad I got my coffee when I did, because after that the bell over the door tinkled, and kept on tinkling. The next rush had arrived. Van strode quickly to the swinging door separating the back from the front. “Hey, we need you. The gates of the underworld have opened and coughed up its brethren.”

The other barista, Noah, hurried through the doors. “The customers can hear you, you know.”

Van returned to the espresso machine, shrugging. Then she brightened at the sight of Jim coming through the doors, turning his broad shoulders to make it into the shop. He also had to duck. Jim was a minotaur, mostly human in appearance, though his head and chest had a lot in common with a highland steer. They were built on bigger lines than humans, and had horns to boot, so ducking through doorways was an old pastime for Jim.