Page 4

Story: Beak Performance

The gravel crunched under my soles when I crossed the yard. Night wouldn’t be falling for another two hours. I breathed in the evening air and let my gaze rest on the land for a moment to ground myself. As much as I enjoyed living in a city, I’d grown up in a quaint Austrian village. The country was where I felt at peace.

Scotland was grittier, flatter, and less lush than Austria or the Fichtel Mountains, but it was no less beautiful.

The restaurant’s windows cast their warm glow out into the evening. I steeled myself and entered.

Okay, you can do this.

Most of the other guys had chosen seats over at the long table the staff had put up.

I picked a seat next to Decks and across from Arne, who gave me a small smile. Still, I didn’t join the conversation for most of the night.

I absorbed and watched. Mostly Arne. I wanted to memorise him.

As if you’d forget anything about that man.

Arne Bendixen was the stuff of my wet dreams. He had a chiselled jaw covered in dark stubble and a smattering of freckles on his straight nose. Expressive eyebrows overshadowed his beautiful blue eyes.

So gorgeous.

“Don’t you like steak?” Arne asked me in a low voice when Decks, Bo, and the others left to socialise with the other guests.

“No. I don’t know why, but I’ve never been able to eat it.”

My captain cocked his head at me. He had teased Decks for missing his fiancé‘s cooking.

Are you going to tease me, too?

I looked back down at my plate, piercing one of the green beans with my fork. I’d always liked those. I’d had a phase at age four when I’d eaten nothing but green beans, sprouts, spinach, and broccoli. Mum never tired of telling the story. That was when my parents realised I wasn’t a typical child.

“Do you want me to get you something else from the kitchen?”

My eyes snapped up.

“Sorry?”

“I’m sure their chef could whip up something else for you. I don’t like the idea of you not eating tonight.”

He wants to feed me?

“Oh, uh. No, it’s fine.”

Arne rose with a ferocity he usually only displayed on the ice, a Viking rising for battle.

“It’snotfine. What food can you eat?”

There’s no arguing with him.

“Chicken or fish is always good,” I told him, admitting defeat.

He returned fifteen minutes later carrying a rectangular plate with a large chicken breast and a piece of salmon. There was more rice and green vegetables on the side.

He brought me a plate of my safe foods.

“Here you go, Raven.” Arne handed me the plate. “Enjoy.”

“Thanks, Captain.”

“You’re welcome.”