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“Sure. If you need one.” He winked at me, then waved me off. “Nah, it’s all right. I got you.”

That was precisely what I needed. Maybe a hard hit around the head would help me get it back on straight.

More than one pair of eyes followed him to the bar.

Mine, too, were dragged along by the play of his arm muscles under the thin compression shirt with our sponsor’s logo on the front. Then, I locked in on his magnificent backside in the torn grey jeans.

The way he moved fascinated me. It was as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Dress him in furs and hand him an axe; he could be a Viking warrior wading through a sea of blood and bones.

And don’t get me started on Arne Bendixen on skates.

It ate me alive.

Watching Bo being all cute and funny with his boyfriend didn’t help, either. I wrenched my eyes away when a young woman struck up a conversation with Arne, one hand skimming down his biceps. I supposed she was pretty.

Well, she’ll help him nurse his bruised ego. No need to watch that.

I wasn’t used to feeling jealous. Seriously, did I think I was above it all?

Probably not, but that doesn’t make it any better.

A few minutes later, he joined us again, another beer for himself and my drink clutched in his broad hands.

“Here you go, Raven. Can I sit for a moment?” He set the glass in front of me and took a seat without waiting for my response.

“Sure,” I muttered unnecessarily. “Thanks.”

Arne clinked the bottom of his bottle to my glass and took a draught. “You’re welcome. Last one, okay?” He added in an undertone so nobody else could hear him.

I sniffed defiantly. “Trust me, I’m as good as sober.” I was. My metabolism dealt with alcohol so quickly I couldn’t get properly drunk.

Just a little tipsy.

My teammates back in Klagenhofen had found that so funny. I just found it depressing.

But maybe it’s a good thing you can’t use it as a coping mechanism.

I fiddled with the feathers on the inside of my wrist. It was one of my favourite stims, and it was one I could do stealthily whenever I needed to.

“I know you are.” His voice softened and my insides melted, as they always did. Turned to stupid, love-struck sludge.

Our eyes met over the drinks, hanging onto each other for a moment.

Don’t be stupid and don’t read into it. He’s your captain. That’s all. Your captain who you kissed. Don’t look at his lips.

“Aye, Captain,” I said before swallowing the bitter taste down with my rum-and-almond drink. I wrenched my eyes away. I needed to or I would do something fucking stupid, even by my standards.

“That’s my boy,” he mumbled, bumping his elbow against mine.

Goosebumps raced down my body, raising every feather in their wake.

Keep calm. Just change the subject.

“You gonna take her home?” I inched my chin over to the red-haired woman.

Yup, that went well.

“Nah. I’m good.” He drank from his beer again.