Page 35 of Fourth Base with the Alpha

“How about your feet?” she asks, pouring herself a glass of water from the bottle on the table. “Sore from dancing?” I snort. She peers around the restaurant, fidgeting on her seat. “It’s very dark in here.” She shades her hand above her eyes and gazes in my direction. “I can hardly see you.”

“They’re trying to create an ambience.”

“Right,” she mutters, sounding unconvinced and picking up a menu from the table. “What’s the food like?”

“French.”

“You like French?” she asks.

“Sometimes. Some of it isn’t too dissimilar from home.”

“Sweden?” She lowers her menu to look over at me. “What do they eat in Sweden? I only know about meatballs from Ikea. I like those actually.”

“Fish.”

“I can’t see any fish on the menu.” She wrinkles up her nose as she surveys the options.

“You don’t like it?” I ask.

“Oh, no.Me imagino que todo es muy lindo1…”

I lean back in my chair, surveying her through the shadows. She’s right, it is ridiculously dark in this restaurant and if I didn’t benefit from my enhanced alpha eyesight, I’d be struggling to make her out. “But not your thing?”

She lowers the menu with a sheepish smile. “I’m willing to give it a try.”

I beckon the waiter over and order us both chicken in a white wine sauce.

When it arrives she stares down at the dish, like it might reach up and attack her. She prods it with her fork then takes a tentative taste.

I dip my own fork in. The sauce is rich and creamy.

“Do you like it?” she asks me.

“Yeah.” I watch her take another forkful, her eyebrows pinching together. “You don’t?”

“I mean, it’s lovely, but …”

“But?”

“Not enough flavor for me.”

I nod, it’s pretty bland. “You prefer things spicy?”

“Excuse me?” she says, her eyes widening.

I’m lost. “Your food, you prefer it spicy.”

“Ahhh,” she nods. “Yeah. I like it spicy as hell. And not so …” she swims her fork through the sauce, “colorless and pretentious.”

My lips twitch in amusement. “You find the food pretentious?”

“I find the whole place pretentious.” She lifts her fork towards me. “Black cutlery?”

I lean back in my chair and chuckle.

“Have I insulted you?” she asks, with a pensive look.

“No, I agree with you actually. I hate places like this.”